#there is no war in old men fuckers city
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you would fuck that old man. i would fuck that old man. we are the same. hold my hand
#there is no war in old men fuckers city#aaaaaaaaand drum roll on the old men i'd fuck!#kevin mcdonald#dave foley#mark mckinney#bruce mcculloch#the kids in the hall#john larroquette#james spader#harry anderson#brad dourif#david cronenberg#dennis christopher#scott bakula#conan o'brien
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Prize money
Mob/casino owner Bucky x server innocent reader
Warnings:kissing, stalking, creepy men, groping, unwanted sexual contact, minor character death, mob violence, let me know if I missed anything! 🩵 kinda safe for work? No smut
The smoke filled air with people’s slurred yells from the table games were what occupied most of the young girls nights. The 20 year old server walked up and down what felt like endless isles of slot machines, yelling over the shouts of frustration, music and much more.
“Snacks, beverages, cigarettes, anyone?” she yelled walking down an aisle.
“Yeah hey!” A man sitting at one of the many machines called her over.
“Hi sir what can I get for you?” The server asked him. The girl knew him, he frequently was seen in the Cash Pit casino.
Just as she was pulling out her notepad the man groped her bum.
“Nice outfit sweetheart”
“You need to get your hands off of me sir,” the server said sternly. Trying to mask her fear.
“What!” the man reached out to pull her closer by her waist “Common I’m a nice guy”
“I will not be serving you” Ripping herself from his grip the young woman walked straight to Sam one of the security guards.
“Sam” she weakly spoke
“Hey, I gotcha,” he said bringing her into him with one arm wrapped around her shoulder. His other reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out his walkie-takie raising it to his lips he spoke into it. “Steve I need you in section five ASAP bring Barnes with ya too. Natasha pull up the tapes in section five around three minutes ago and look for y/n. Once you find the clip write a report and put the fucker on the banned list”
“What am I looking for?” Natasha another security guard spoke back through the line.
“You’ll know when you see it.” was all Sam said. y/n had been working for the cash pit casino since she turned 18, now 20. She didn’t like the crime or the sin-filled place but she needed money, after leaving her mother's house due to the dysfunction and her mother always putting her cheating boyfriend over her own children y/n fled. She looked for jobs that didn’t require her to wear slutty uniforms (like the cash pit casino) but nothing paid like the job she had now.
The casino was run by an undercover mob boss James Barnes, James’ father started the family-owned casino but once it was passed down to James he added…a little side business. The casino was the perfect cover-up, before James established his power he would watch the city's gangs pimp his father for so-called protection. James promised himself he would never let people tell him what to do with his fucking money like his father did because his father didn't believe in breaking a few laws. James’ father was murdered when the casino was being robbed by the gang Hydra. That was 15 years ago and James is still in a war against them.
James was a cruel man. He was a womanizer, he never was satiated with one woman his endless cash flow brought in many women that he loved to play with…that was until his doe-eyed cotton tailed bunny came hopping through his casino doors in need of a job. At first, James just thought his obsession would go away, no woman could hold his attention for long. But she did, yet he knew the kind of world he lived in. It was no place for an innocent little bunny like her, he knew it was better to protect her from a distance. And so protecting her from a distance meant loving her from too. James never let anything happen to his servers, dancers, or any woman who worked for him, especially be unsafe in his building. But when it came down to his bunny, his girl, his love, and his obsession, he ordered she never be out of any of his men's sight. He made his men follow her everywhere, he even had a tracking device under her car. He would burn the world down for the one girl who made him soft.
James tried to be friendly to all his employees at his casino, talk to them, and make a legitimate workplace so no one would be suspicious. James lived for his short conversations with y/n, her giggles and shy smile made him want to kiss her all over her face. So when Steve his right-hand man threw open his office door with enough force to make it smack against the wall James was immediately pissed.
“Hey! What the fuck was that for!” James yelled at his best friend.
“It's y/n come upstairs.” James flew out of his chair grabbing his gun from under his desk top he and Steve started to walk to the main floor. No questions were asked when it came to girl.
“What the fuck happened” he asked.
“I don't know, sam said something happened with y/n and that we needed to get up there fast”
“Fuck! I swear to god if she’s hurt!”
When James and Steve made it upstairs his eyes searched for Sam and y/n. Sam had pulled y/n into the private smoke lounge that was empty.
“I feel so gross” y/n cried into sams shoulder
When Steve pointed at Sam and y/n James made a b line straight to her.
“What happened?!” he asked as he and Steve stepped through the curtain, Steve closing it once both were in the lounge.
James sat on the couch next to Y/n, pulling her into his arms his eyes softened.
“I-I was in my section asking if anyone needed anything and some guy asked me to come over s-so I did and he grabbed my bum and wouldn’t listen to me when I told him to stop”
“Steve go get him out of my casino” James ordered then his voice turned soft “Bunny baby look at me. It's okay now I'm here” he rocked her slightly in his arms, sam got up to step out to give y/n and James some privacy.
“There's my girl” he cooed at her when her eyes met his “You’re safe, he won't ever touch you again, no one will for that matter”
“Thank you, Mr. Barnes” she whispered to him, their eyes locked in on each other until he slid down to her lips. Her breathing got more shallow as James moved his left hand to the back of her neck. He pulled her closer onto his lap, his lips met her softer ones. The kiss was otherworldly, she had never being kissed like that before. Yet as soon as it happened it was over, the cold look in his eyes reappeared. James was hungry for his little bunny, but importantly he was scared. He was scared because he wanted her yet keeping her at a distance protects her from his mafia world but it doesn't protect her from everyone else’s . He had to make a choice, either let her go forever because of his ruthless world, or bring her with him, risk the danger but protect her better than any other man could.
James picked her up “Wh-what are you doing?” she asked confused
“I’m taking you home” When James said that she immediately thought of her home.
Walking through the back of the casino so no eyes could pray, once outside he continued to his newest black Audi. Putting her in the passenger seat, leaning down to buckle her up. y/n sucked in a breath, being so close to him had her reeling to reality. His cologne smelled so good, her in his arms made her almost forget that he was her boss. She had always thought he was handsome a not-so-small crush on him, she was especially flustered after their kiss. Just as he was finished buckling her up his cold blue eyes met her for an intense moment before he closed the door and walked around the front of the car. Opening his door and buckling himself, he started to pull out of the parking lot that was located behind the casino which was only for employees. James made his choice.
The drive was awkward for y/n she was shaken up by the creepy man and confused because her boss had kissed her but was now acting so cold. So caught up in her thoughts she didn't realize that he wasn't driving her to her home but to his. Only when the car pulled into a private driveway did she become aware.
“This isn't my house?” she hesitated to say.
“I know it's mine” he replied shortly. “Im confused, why are we at your house?”
James parked his car he turned to look at her, his eyes besotted on her, they would never leave her. James knew his eyes would never look at someone like they do for her, that he would look for her in every room for the rest of his life even though he could be miles away. He would never twant another person, she was his love, lamb, bunny, life, and soul, his future and he would die without her.
“y/n look at me. I want you to know now that after tonight I can't hind. I can't hide my feelings for you, I love you more than I could ever express with my words so please ju-just stay with me. Come inside, come home. I’ll love you for the rest of my life with or without you, but please doll be with me” he begged, pleaded, his eyes hoping with everything in him.
y/n stared at him, her breath gone. She couldn't believe he would ever want her. Yet her heart felt the same as his did, she longed for him, to see his rare smiles more frequent. She wanted to know him, to learn, to crave him, and never be able to live without him.
“Bunny, baby you’re killin’ me, say somethin’ let me be yours” he took her hands in his
“I love you James” she whispered before she let go of his hands and reached for the sides of his face. Pulling him in for a kiss, this one even more passionate, full of words now spoken, this kiss longer. Coming up for air from her magic James smiled against her lips chuckling.
“I love you y/n,” James said before getting out of the car, once on her side of the car he opened up the door holding her hand in his, he brought her hand up to his lips kissing it. y/n blushing while they walked into his their home.
The night was spent eating takeout in PJs (James' shirt and sweatpants that were hilariously too big for her) cuddling, kissing, playing, giggling, and learning about the love they would share for the rest of their lives.
The end
I had this song of repeat while I made this because it gives off shy but scary but sweet Bucky to me
#bucky barnes#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes oneshots#marvel#james bucky barnes#soft dark fic#soft!dark!bucky#dark!bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#yandere bucky barnes
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Snippet - Spread Her Wings - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO
The prospects of Jinx's dating life loom like a future graveyard...
Forward but Never Forget/XOXO
Snippet:
"They'll be working together?"
"Separate spheres. Same goal."
"Nothing stays separate in close quarters. Especially with a teenager’s hormones in the mix.”
Silco's stare locks on hers.
"You said it yourself," Sevika says, "She singled Viktor out. Might be a coincidence. Or..."
"What?"
"Maybe the girl's got a crush."
Silco makes a soft sound expressive of disgust. "Don't be ridiculous."
"It's a theory."
"She does not have a crush. She was testing him."
"Testing him?"
"Assessing his value. As an ally." The thought occurs to him. "I suppose she's growing bored with Magnus. The dog has his uses, but he can't engage the mind."
"And Viktor can?"
"His intelligence is a match for hers. Shocking, considering their age difference."
"That's my point." Sevika's features, upside down, hold a smileless amusement. "Viktor's not a child. He's not a dog. He's a grown man. And Jinx..."
Silco preempts the rest. "She is only seventeen."
"Only? How many seventeen-year-olds are capable of blowing up an entire city, or taking down an Enforcer cavalcade singlehandedly? Let's not forget the time she hijacked a fucking airship. Or the time she took out a roomful of Slickjaws armed with nothing but six color pencils. You've set her loose on the world. She's got the experience of a war veteran." Her jaw sets. "The baggage, too."
"Your point?"
"My point is, her tastes are different from the average girl's." The corner of her lip curls. "Older men get to be a nasty habit. They're all about control. And when you're used to being a little monster, you enjoy getting put in your place. It's a headfuck. Like playing chicken with a loaded gun. And we both know how much Jinx likes guns."
"You're saying Viktor would take advantage of her." The words are clipped; the tone, icy. "That he'd play into her trust."
"If not Viktor, then someone else. She's not a kid anymore. She'll be a woman soon. And she'll catch the eyes of every fucker out there, sooner or later." Her hand never ceases its small caresses. But her stare holds his: challenging. "She's gonna catch the eyes of a certain type in particular."
"What type is that?"
"You know. The hellraisers. The risk-takers. The ones living for a thrill to top all thrills." Quieter: "Like you at that age."
A vein pulses in Silco's left temple. "You are implying she'll find a lover soon."
"More than one."
"Hardly."
It comes out sharp enough to take a head off the shoulders. Yet the creeping tide of possessiveness is very real. All that dilutes it is the knowledge that Jinx has—so far—seldom expressed an interest in either boys or girls.
It isn't that she is oblivious to her own charms or their effect on others. Silco has taught her to weaponize her appearance with the same deft precision as a blade. Yet she's never shown an inclination to go prowling, either. Certainly not the way Silco used to at her age. A casualty of premature initiation, or his own base nature; his mind was always acutely attuned to the sensual.
Typically, his own child's budding sexuality is a subject best avoided. The few times it's come up has been pithy summations from his network: She gets off on booms, not bodies.
Unspoken but blatant: Freak.
Most are convinced Jinx is a rare species of deviant. Someone more gratified by mind-fuckery than the primal simplicity of teenaged hormones. If she were, Silco wouldn't be shocked. Hell, he'd encourage it. There are few more intoxicating modes of control than insinuating yourself into peoples' thoughts, playing hell with their emotions, seeping into their psyches in an act of irreversible infusion. In face of that, sex pales in comparison.
But outsiders have always tenaciously clung to the notion of Jinx as a monster.
So, Silco concedes, has he.
Jinx is still a growing girl. A girl exposed to every stripe of brutality—and yet spared the worst by virtue of his own aegis. She's never before declared it smothering; never rebelled against his rules. The issue has always been unwanted people wanting her.
Now Sevika is telling him she might want people back. Not just want them. Crave them. The same way Silco had craved Vander, or Nandi.
Until it'd all soured in a bath of blood.
"Viktor is not Jinx's type," he says. "Nor is she his."
"Yeah?"
"The boy's never touched a woman. Let alone bedded one."
"You're saying—?" Sevika's brows wing sky-high. "Huh. Explains why there's never been rumors."
"My sources are reliable. The boy lives like a monk. The closest he's come to a relationship is Talis, who is so obtuse he missed a mile-wide opportunity." He lapses into musing. Her nails lightly raking his scalp have a strangely meditative effect. "I'd wager that's part of the reason Viktor and Jinx found each other. They're both outliers. The odd ones out." He thinks of Viktor's expression at the gala, when he and Jinx bid each other goodnight: courtesy that hid a strange kinship. "He won't touch her. Not that way."
"And the next one who does?" Sevika looms in. Her dark hair sluices over her shoulders, like a pair of wings. She's letting it grow, finally, past the nape of her neck. It suits her. "The next one who sees her and wants her and goes for it?"
"Jinx can take care of herself."
"What if she wants 'em to touch her back?"
Silco's good eye narrows. "Are you under the impression I'd forbid her?"
"I know you would." Her tone brooks no argument. It's a blunt statement. "But that's not the point. You can't treat her like a little girl forever. She's got too much curiosity. Soon, she's gonna start exploring. And it won’t stop at sex. It'll be the world, next. Once she's had a taste, she'll want it all. She's a firecracker, Silco. Always has been. The question is: are you ready?"
"Ready?"
"For her to spread her wings?"
#arcane#arcane league of legends#arcane silco#silco#forward but never forget/xoxo#forward (never forget)/xoxo#arcane jinx#jinx#arcane viktor#viktor#arcane sevika#sevika#arcane ekko#ekko#sevilco#silco x sevika
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Instrument of War
Frank Castle is old now and the streets of New York know when to be afraid. Petty criminals and the scum that run the streets know.
The crunch of his boots and the clink of his casings hitting the dirty pavements have become as regular as church bells but there's always more to clean up. The city's never clean and as the years roll past he wonders what will become of it after he's dead.
Men like him don't usually live this long.
Vietnam and all the shit before and all the shit after. . . men with his kind of anger and his kind of temper. . . but somehow he's still here. Everyone else is dead but he's still here and so each night he goes out and tries to reclaim a bit of the streets, tries to right the wrongs that have already passed.
He see's visions when he closes his eyes.
His wife.
HIs children.
Burned villages and dead men.
Blood on the streets and stars pinned to chests when they should be in the sky.
He's always been angry but he'd been normal once.
He'd had parents and some vague idea of what his life was supposed to be like.
The streets here are rotten though, the people unfriendly. They don't want to be saved and maybe they shouldn't be.
He'd once tried to be a priest.
Maybe if he'd stayed with it he could have saved someone but it hadn't been in him and he hadn't stayed.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
He unloads half a clip into a rapist and knows why he couldn't be a priest.
There are people that think the death penalty is wrong, people that want due process and a jury made of peers but he's looking at the woman on the ground, eyes wide and shocked, blood that isn't hers splattered across her face and blouse. Those people don't think about her.
She's blinking like she can't make out what she's looking at as she stares at him.
Where there is hatred let me sow love.
Only when he holds out a hand she screams and slaps it away. "Don't touch me!" She shouts, kicking backwards away from the dead body between them. "Don't fucking touch me! Help!"
He let's his hand fall.
Where there is offense, let me bring pardon.
"You should get to a hospital." He say's.
White fingers claw at her face, smearing her would be rapist's blood. "What have you done?" She chokes.
Relieved the streets of one less piece of shit.
"Oh God what have you done?" She has red stains over her face now, across her lips and cheeks.
Where there is discord, let me bring union.
She's in shock.
He doesn't blame her and so he leaves her there, not trying to save anyone. Just trying to make the streets better. Just trying to leave the world a little less shitty than when he came into it.
Where there is error, let me bring truth.
He stops at a pay phone and calls an ambulance.
They'll take care of her.
He hangs up when they ask for his name and walks on.
The rapist wasn't on his agenda but he always has room for one more and tonight he has a meeting.
A mob boss, lower level- ambitious but not important will be celebrating his birthday at a local pizzeria.
It's a front but it makes a good pie.
He might not have given two shits about such a low level but the bastard is ambitious and he has potential in spades. He'll do a lot worse than he already has and he already isn't innocent.
Twenty-three and he's had four men killed.
Where there is doubt, let me bring-
What does a city like this believe in any more? Gleaming glass and steal and dirty pavements. . .
He doesn't pretend he's saving anyone.
This is revenge and that's all it's ever been.
Where there is despair, let me bring-
He can't remember the words. Faith, hope, light, joy. . . he can't remember the words any more. They've fallen behind him like all of the bullet casings he leaves behind. Scattered and lost. Down alleyways and into storm drains and sewers.
Where there is darkness, let me bring -
Let me bring what?
He spots the mob boss from a roof top across the street, from a roof top across the street on his belly through the lens of a two year old scope.
The smug little fucker is laughing with someone.
Four men dead and he's laughing and eating like anyone else.
Where there is sadness-
Frank squeezes the trigger and the man drops, face first onto the table, shot straight through the chest.
The other men shout and Frank can't imagine pardon or understanding for them. Twenty-three years old and he'd made his choice.
He doesn't believe in rehabilitation.
Not in this city.
Not in this life time.
He packs up while they're scurrying around and is gone before they reach his roof. There will be no pardon tonight, not for any of them.
Frank's bones hurt more and more from this, his body doesn't like getting down on the ground any more.
He wonders how many years of this he has left.
How long until his vision and hearing and reflexes go and he's just another face, withered in a nursing home?
The dawn is coming and so he heads home, hearing some song he hasn't in decades and thinking of a time when people pushed flowers down the barrels of guns like it meant something. He knows now why he was never on the side of the flowers. Why he always held the gun.
He's lived long enough to know that he could never be an instrument of peace.
Not him, he never had it in him.
He's an instrument of war and it's too late to turn back now.
#the punisher#frank castle#fanfiction#marvek#comics#based on the comics#haven't seen the show#will get around to it one day#violence#one shot#murder#vigilante#crime#introspection#dark#death#canon typical violence
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GENSHIN DUDES AS CAT BREEDS. GO.🐱
⚘ — GENSHIN MEN AS CAT BREEDS.
i. SYNOPSIS : tired cat mom talks about genshin men as cat breeds - and basically as cats as a whole. ( various x gn ! reader )
ii. WARNING(S) : nothing much save for some crack, cat behavior, mentions of dead animals, more cat behavior, me having to look up certain breeds because i only have experience with short haired alley cats like my two babus lots and lots of cute shit. NOT PROOFREAD.
# masterlist
&& . tartaglia | childe
starting off with him because he's the easiest, i'd either say the siberian ( from my mothers ye old tales of having taken one of these abandoned fluffers in, said abandoned fluffer leaving behind her two kids for the humans to deal with ) or kin...who is actually MY cat but trust me, if childe were a cat, he would be kin. petty to a point where he will leave a gift behind on my dad's bed solely because they hate each other? yes. somehow win the affections of my cat-hating aunt? yes. attention seeking and annoying? yes. ginger? yes. he's one cat very prone to getting zoomies so the moment he's excited, he's nyooming all over the place at mach speed.
&& . arataki itto
the maine coon, that's it. the moment i thought of cat itto, i thought of this breed. these fuckers are HUGE almost comically so ( and i mean it, they are bigger than most small dogs for crying out loud ) and they do seem to come across as playful and friendly. he seems like the kind of guy who cares little about your desk space and will climb up to demand your attention then just stretch out over it with a happy purr. he will ALSO unironically hunt down any bugs within your vicinity...only to bring them back to you ( rip if you're terrified of arthropods ). it's hard to stay mad at him though, with how sweet he is.
&& . diluc ragnvindr
a ragamuffin seems to be the first one that comes into mind. when i was still a big city girl, i volunteered at a shelter for a while and i saw one over there ( poor thing was pretty overheated since indian summers are relentless ). but the little guy was pretty laid back for the most part and somewhat standoffish and excessively preeny. ragdolls are pretty fluffy too so he would make a really nice cuddle buddy...until the fur gets all over your clothes. he also tends to set out at nights pretty often and gets back gifts for you to leave at your doorstep ( he learned not to bring them inside ) and very pointedly expects you to make use of it the next day. so uh...bury the poor things when he isn't around.
&& . kaeya alberich
birman. it's the pretty blue eyes, yes i am a basic bitch in her ideal habitat come at me. but as someone who also loves ironic and undeniably mean symbolism sometimes, the birman nearly went extinct in europe during world war ii ( and yes i actually had to look that up ). he latches on to your lap. the lap cat. you sit down? he's going to casually approach you and take his seat without batting an eye. don't question it or put him down, he will look painfully offended and may ignore you for the next two hours before he returns to sit on your lap again.
&& . xiao | alatus
devon rex. the face does it for me, and the big ears and eyes. xiao is already a bit of a stereotypical cat person in my eyes - distant, quiet, a little standoffish. and he does come across as that for the most part, either latching on to you or anyone he fully trusts. with anyone else ( especially strangers ) he flat out avoids them and watches them from a safer distance, either from behind a wall or from under a table or chair. it's advisable you don't pursue him till he get's used to you and the environment first or else he will get hissy. contrary to belief though, he keeps scratching to a minimum ( he's polite that way ) and only does so when he feels extremely threatened.
&& . venti | barbatos
the la perm is an easy win. we had one of these guys when i was still young and she was the loudest little thing ever. as a cat, he's going to be off on his own pretty often, wandering around the neighborhood only to return around mealtimes and chats up a storm with you. funnily enough, he only makes one nightly trip before he comes back home, chats up another storm when you're trying to sleep then settles down for a nap beside you. he tends to be a little in your face and carefree but he's pretty easy to manage apart from that and puts up less of a fuss around people, unlike xiao.
&& . zhongli | rex lapis
okay he's the last one because i am very conflicted between a few breeds. i think he's either be a burmese cat or a somali ( or perhaps even a mix between both ). almost painfully bougie and refined, he's more of an indoor cat who takes small walks around the neighborhood around the evenings. he also likes to collect your things o if your keys are missing, it's probably in zhongli's basket. he's also particular to certain tastes so he's a very fussy eater, has certain spots he likes being scratched and yes, you MUST give him a good brush down after the mentioned walks. he will stare into your soul if you happen to forget. otherwise? he's pretty calm and laid back and seems to take new arrivals better than you'd expect.
AINE | 2022. do no plagiarize, repost or rework this piece.
#&&. my writing !!#&&. mailbox !!#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#arataki itto#diluc ragnvindr#kaeya alberich#xiao#venti#zhongli#tartaglia#xiao x reader#zhongli x reader#diluc x reader#kaeya x reader#venti x reader#itto x reader#childe x reader
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Stucky Fic Rec List #34
Tuesday, April 26
🍲This is Home by @hazel-wand - [Teen; 7,5k words]
[Shrunkyclunks; Bodega AU; War Veteran Bucky; Amputee Bucky; Touch Starved Steve Rogers; Steve Rogers Needs a Hug; Fluff and Angst; Alpine the Bodega Cat; Happy Ending]
The voice - deep, soft and, oh, sad - pulls Bucky back to his actual job behind the counter of this shitty old bodega which, actually, he kinda loves. He looks up, then regrets it immediately, because Biceps McShoulders has ocean-blue eyes that Bucky could stare into for a creepy-stalker length amount of time. The guy’s beautiful.
In which a sad Steve Rogers walks into Bucky's bodega.
🍹A Very Specific Type by @yammz - [Explicit; 19,5k words]
[Modern AU; Silver Fox Steve; Age Difference; Past Relationships; Getting Together; Explicit Sexual Content; Bottom!Bucky; Blow Jobs; Anal Sex; Dirty Talk]
Natasha places a well-manicured hand on Sam’s thigh as she explains, “Bucky has a type and they’re terrible men.”
Bucky makes a face. “No, Bucky has a type and it’s older blond men.”
“Who are all terrible,” Natasha adds.
Bucky meets one more older blond man after swearing off of them forever. This one may be special.
🍪 where momma hides the cookies by @rooonil-waazlib - [Explicit; 13,7k words]
[College AU; Sports AU; Hockey; Enemies to Lovers; Pining; Explicit Sexual Content; Bottom!Bucky; Happy Ending]
The thing is, ever since Bucky’s been on the UNNY team, a guy named Steve Rogers has been on the Halverton team. He’s captain this year, as Bucky is for UNNY. They’ve faced each other three years in a row, now. Bucky hates that guy. He’s too perfect for his own good.
💘something about your love and affection by lavenderbucky - [Gen; 475 words]
[Canon Divergence; Established Relationship; Domestic Fluff; Banter; Schmoop; Forehead Kisses; Forehead Touching]
Bucky takes Steve's head in his hands. He tips his forehead against Steve's, closing his eyes. "I love you," he says. "Keep yourself safe for me."
Or: Steve and Bucky take time to connect before Steve heads out on a mission.
🧊 he said, there's a paradise beneath me (she said, am i supposed to bleed) by @voxofthevoid - [Explicit; 23k words]
[Canon Divergence; Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes; Modern Steve Rogers; Canon Typical Violence; Hurt/Comfort; And They Were Roommates; Minor Steve/Wade Wilson; Minor Steve/Sharon Carter; Recovering Bucky; Getting Together; Background Daddy Kink; Kink Negotiation; BDSM; Light Spanking; Oral Sex; Anal Sex; Bottom!Bucky; Fluff and Smut]
“If you kiss me like that, Rogers, you’re gonna have a hard time convincing me you want to fuck me.”
“Can’t have that,” Steve says and—
And the fucker bends Bucky back like this is a goddamn romcom and kisses the everloving shit out of him.
Bucky doesn’t think he reciprocates all that well. Yeah, he remembers the bare bones of how to smash mouths, but it’s been a long time, it’s been seventy years, and even the cocky shit he used to be wouldn’t be able to do more than cling to Steve and gasp against his mouth because the mad motherfucker is holding him parallel to the floor like Bucky’s not nearly three hundred pounds of muscle and metal.
Steve breaks the kiss, and Bucky’s left panting in the aftermath, but Steve’s not much better off, breathing hard with dark eyes and wet lips.
“Convincing enough?” Steve asks between rough breaths.
Bucky just stares at him. He thinks he’s in love.
That’s when Steve tries to straighten up, loses his balance, and sends the two of them crashing to the floor in a painful tangle of limbs.
-
And they were roommates.
🦌The Pajama Party Incident by follow_the_sun - [Teen; 1,5k words]
[Modern AU; Meet-Cute; Firefighter!Steve; Amputee Bucky; Fluff and Humour]
A pajama party goes horribly wrong, then wonderfully right.
🐈9-1-1... THAT'S your emergency? by cablesscutie - [Gen; 1,4k words]
[Modern AU; Firefighter!Steve; Meet-Cute; Disgruntled Jogger!Bucky; Fluff and Humour]
“New York City Fire Department, how may I help you?”
“Hi, um...It’s uh...not an emergency per se, but there’s this cat in a tree in Prospect Park.”
“Sir, if this is a prank call -”
“No! No, I’m serious."
Bucky is mugged by a cat. Steve comes to the rescue.
🍑 Blush Pink by voluptuous_panic - [Explicit; 3,9k words]
[Canon Divergence; Established Relationship; PWP; Dom/Sub; Bottom!Steve; Barebacking; Dirty Talk; Nipple Play; Feminization; Felching; Desperation; Multiple Orgasms]
Bashful has always been Steve’s best look.
🖇️The New Guy by Venusdoom3 - [Explicit; 12k words]
[Modern AU; Meet-Cute; Workplace Relationship; Getting Together; Fluff and Smut; Explicit Sexual Content; Office Sex; Hand Jobs; Blow Jobs; Hot Tub Sex; Rimming; Bottom!Steve; Happy Ending]
"I wonder if he's single."
Steve loosened his tie; the temperature in the office had seemingly risen since James arrived. "If he is, he's mine."
Wanda laughed in disbelief. "You don't even know if he's gay!"
Steve's voice dripped with certainty. "Oh, that won't matter."
🌻sweet music playing in the dark by hiljainen - [Explicit; 3,3k words]
[Canon Divergence; Established Relationship; Porn With Feelings; Fluff and Smut; Recovering; PTSD; Laughter During Sex; Crying During Sex; Communication; Explicit Consent; Oral Sex; Anal Sex; Bottom!Bucky; Post-Coital Cuddling]
Steve and Bucky have sex for the first time since they found each other again.
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Impressing Thomas Shelby
A/N: Alright, here it is. I hope you all enjoy this. Also, this a scene mentioned in the one-shot I wrote called Devilment Mustn't Win. You don't have to read it to understand this one.
Summary: Y/n wants revenge against the Lees; but Inspector Moss interrupts them before they can.
Characters: Tommy Shelby, Inspector Moss, Finn Shelby, Polly Gray, Shelby!Reader
Warnings: language
Word Count: 1,590
Gif by @nofckingfighting
Today was like any other day in Small Heath. Men shoveling coal, women doing laundry, more men drinking away their nightmares from the war and children playing, with Y/n Shelby leading the way.
Y/n had promised her gang they would take on the Lee kids.
"This is the day those fuckers pay for picking on my baby brother." She announces as soon as everyone has gathered.
"How?" A boy who is Finn's age or a year younger asks.
Y/n smiles proudly as she pulls her weapon out of her pocket. The smile grows as kids gasp and start to inch closer to get a better look.
She raises the stolen gun high above her head. "They'll never see us coming."
Stealing the gun from Scudboat had been rather easy. All it took was a glass of whiskey and some of her aunt's leftover pudding, and she was off with the bagman's gun.
"To the cut!" She shouts.
"To the cut!" Her gang shouts back.
"What the fuck is going on here?"
Every pair of eyes turn to the familiar voice, their eyes wide.
"Scatter!" Finn yells and the group of children start to disburse before the youngest Shelby finishes the word.
Inspector Sergeant Moss splutters a string of curse words as the children run. He decides to grab the child closest to him. At least then he can know what the fuck is going on.
Unfortunately for Y/n, the closest child to the officer is one Finn Shelby.
"Gotcha!" Moss yells proudly as he wraps both hands around the young boy's arms.
The smile falls when he sees exactly who he caught. "Finn Shelby? What the bloody-"
"You let my brother go, you bastard!"
The next thing Moss knows, he's being attack by his least favorite Shelby.
Y/n and Moss have never seen eye to eye. Moss thinks the little devil is crazy and Y/n likes to make the inspector believe he is right. The man believes he runs this city; even though he works for Tommy. Y/n just likes to remind him that he is nothing but a piece of dirt on a Shelby's boot.
"Get off me, you crazy devil!" Moss yells as he lets go of one Shelby to grab another.
When the man grabs the twelve year old, Y/n tries to twist away and as she does, a gunshot echoes through the small alley of Small Heath.
"Shit!" The inspector yelps as he lets go of girl who is also in shock by the noise.
Y/n immediately drops the gun. "I-I didn't mean to. Honest." Her eyes narrow as fear and anger start to rise. "Y-You shouldn't have tried to grab me."
"Come on, Y/n." Finn pulls on his sister's sleeve to get her moving. "We have to go before someone sees us."
"I've bloody well have seen you!" Moss yells angrily.
Y/n starts to argue with the officer, but Finn pulls her away from the man.
"Let's go!"
***
Two hours.
It's been two hours since Moss was shot and Y/n is about to lose her shit.
Finn had dragged her home, her mind and body going numb from the terrifying event.
The younger brother set his sister on her bed in their shared room before getting their aunt. He didn’t want to tell on his sister but she has spoken a word since they left that alley.
Y/n couldn’t speak because her brain was spouting out question after question.
What if she just killed a man? What will happen to her? What will Aunt Polly think?
What will her brothers think?
Y/n buries her face into her pillow as she throws herself down on her bed.
What will Tommy think?
Y/n loves each of her brothers and will till she dies; but Tommy and her have a special relationship. Sometimes she feels like he's more of father than a brother. Arthur and John will boss her around sometimes, but it's more in a protective older brother way than 'I want you to learn and grow from my orders' way.
Tommy is the one raising her. He takes care of her; even when she's sick and hates staying in bed.
He’s always been there.
Except for when he was in the war; but no matter how many times she reminds herself of the truth, she knows, deep down, it wasn't his fault he had to fight.
"Y/N SHELBY! Get your fucking arse down here now!"
Y/n closes her eyes as her brother's voice echoes up the stairs and down the street of Watery Lane.
Slowly, the twelve year old stands to her feet and heads down the stairs to the kitchen where her very angry brother and aunt are waiting.
"Tommy, listen to your sister's explanation before you to decide to thrash her." Well, at least her aunt isn't too angry with her.
Her brother scoffs. "Oh, she's getting a thrashing." Y/n gulps as Tommy glares at her. "But lets hear what the little devil has to say." He announces as he points at one of the kitchen chairs; a silent order to sit.
Y/n does so without protest. "I didn't mean for the gun to go off, Tommy. Honest. I didn't think-"
"You fucking didn't think at all!"
"Thomas." Polly quietly admonishes. "Let her finish."
When it looks like her brother is going to listen to their aunt, Y/n continues. "Moss grabbed me. I was trying to get free when the gun went off. I didn't even know it was loaded! And I was never planning on using it" She silently pleads for them to believe her.
Sure, she took the gun for the fight against the Lee kids; but she was only planning on scaring them with it. It never even crossed her mind to actually fire the bloody thing.
"Why did you have a gun, Y/n?"
"Huh?"
"Why did you have a gun?" Tommy repeats, his mouth pronouncing every syllable as slow as humanly possible.
Y/n shifts in her chair, unsure of how her brother and aunt will react to her forming a gang. "Well, last Tuesday some of the Lee kids decided to attack Finn; and I bloody well couldn't let that slide." She tells them, her voice hardening at the reminder of the bruises on her little brother's face. "So, I decided to form my own gang to get even with them."
"What gang?" Polly asks.
"Just a group of the kids from Small Heath."
"How many?"
Y/n turns her attention to Tommy. "How many what?"
"How many children did you get to join your little gang? Tommy has no idea how he feels about his baby sister forming a gang. He knows he should feel fear and disappointment; but all he can feel is pride.
"There was eleven of us altogether." Y/n answers timidly; having no idea that her words made her brother more proud of her than mad.
"I've heard just about enough." Polly announces as she turns to leave number six and head to her own home. "Y/n Shelby, forming a gang at age twelve. I've seen it all." With that, the head lady of the Shelby family leaves her niece in her nephew's care; knowing the man is now in control of his emotions.
Y/n silently watches her aunt leave, but inside she's screaming for her aunt to come back. How could she leave her youngest niece to face her brother's wrath alone?
Speaking of her brother, she cautiously turns her attention back to him.
Tommy had lit a cigarette while their aunt made her grand disappearance, waiting for his sister's attention to fall back to him.
"Any chance you're going to forget about the thrashing?"
Tommy exhales a breath of smoke as he chuckles softy. Only his baby sister would have the courage to him ask him such a question when he's already promised her one. "No chance in hell, little sister." His slight amusement drains when he sees her last bit of hope slip away.
Clearing his throat, he asks a question he already knows the answer to. "Where did you get the gun, Y/n?"
Y/n scoffs as she answers her brother. "I know you already know I stole it from Scudboat."
Tommy nods, silently congratulating her for not lying to him. He takes a few minutes, enjoying his cigarette before sitting down across from the little devil who holds his heart in her hands.
"I'm proud of you."
"You're fucking what?" Y/n blurts out before she can stop herself. "Sorry." She mumbles when she receives a glare for her cursing.
"I'm proud of you for having your brother's back. Finn was ambushed and beaten. You came to his defense and was going to do everything in your power to avenge him. You responded like a Shelby." He raises an eyebrow. "The gun was unnecessary, but forming your own gang at twelve.” He takes a long puff. “I'm impressed."
As she processes her brother's words, a smile starts to form on her face. He's proud of her. He's impressed.
Thomas fucking Shelby is impressed.
Nothing could ruin her mood; not even a fucking beating.
No matter what repercussions today will have on tomorrow. Y/n fucking Shelby will rule the day, because no one can take her family or her gang away from her. Not with Tommy Shelby in her corner.
And he always will be.
Forevers: @desiredposion @theseakrakence @simonsbluee
Peaky Blinders: @psychkunox @theshelbyclan @supermouse @lilymurphy03
#tommy shelby x sister!reader#finn shelby x sister!reader#shelby!reader#peaky blinders one shot#peaky blinders fic#tommy shelby#finn shelby#polly gray#inspector moss#peaky blinders
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Hey guys!
From now on I’m gonna tag all my war related posts with #itsalmostspring tag. I know many of you don’t want to see all of this. I'm not offended, I swear! for some, this is a trigger and an ordeal for the psyche, someone just doesn’t want to read the horrors of real life, sitting in the cozy bed. I repeat - I'm not offended. it's your decision. it’s on you, anyway. just informing you about the tag!)
I’ll start with the most important!
while our governments solve issues at their level, ordinary people can also do a lot. and they do!
Lately, I've been receiving more and more messages, not only words of encouragement and promises to pray for us (which is also very important, believe me!), but also concrete actions! “Hey, I wrote a letter to my government, I demand NATO to close the sky!”, “Hey, I joined the red cross and we help refugees!”, “Hey, today I volunteered to help collect humanitarian aid to be sent to Ukraine!” PEOPLE YOU ARE THE BEST! I LOVE YOU!!! Keep it up!
Believe me, everything will come in handy! but the main thing now is medicines and protective equipment. I'll explain why. army is army, but people in every city, in every village of Ukraine are uniting in territorial defense groups. I don’t know if I need to explain what they are doing?) ok, they patrol the territory, duty at checkpoints, and in some cases…. yeah they can kick ass!) most importantly, they are trying to identify and stop the activities of sabotage groups, there’s a lot of those fuckers on the territory of Ukraine (I will describe what these groups do a little later). on the first day of the war, a LOT people signed up for TD (territory defence) groups, many were given the necessary things, but, of course, there wasn’t enough for everyone. many of them are men, such as my grandfather, for example (72 years old), or dad (58 years old). I think it’s also clear that for now mobilization captured mainly reservists and stronger, younger guys, but NOBODY wants to sit idle, believe me!)))
Someday I’ll tell you guys about some phone conversations with my daddy, dude is hilarious!)) yeah, phone calls. he and mom are not with us now, they decided to stay were they are and help.
Also. I don’t remember if I told you this, but I’m from Kyiv, this in my native city, and I live 20 mins walking from city centre. So, uh, yeah. When I woke on feb 24 from my sister’s phone call, she kindly asked me to grab my shit and (most important!!) my cat and come to her’s apartment, so we could at leats be together. We left the city later in the evening. idk how is should end this paragraph… I probably gonna write about this some other time. it’s fucking too heavy on feelings and it’s not the point right now. Ha. Most likely you won’t hear a thing about crying and panicking from me. I’m not scared. Constantly worried, angry, but not scared. Keep thinking what I can do and keep doing what I can. I finally had proper sleep today, so now I’m even fiercer.
So yeah, if you can donate - donate! This saves lives! I posted about activity of my colleagues recently here, they doing great so far yay! now it’s much wider, than only helping with medical supplies. they take a lot of calls and messages, they shared the responsibility for receiving and processing the information, and they do good! it seems there was a small glitch with paypal, because there were a lot of payments, but now everything seems to be fine! we are not the only ones who do this, so if you want to help, do not hesitate, look for local volunteer organizations, contact the Red Cross, for god’s sake!)) - the Ukrainians will not forget you!
As I was saying, everything will come in handy! and when we will (AND WE FUCKING WILL, VERY SOON!!!) get back to our streets and start clearing them of shit, blood and stench… we’ll be same proud of you guys, as we’re proud of ourselves!
Русский военный корабль, иди нахуй!
Love you all!
❤️ Anz
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whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)
read part one here!
a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)
prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.
warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)
Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.
But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.
It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.
Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.
***********
You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.
However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.
Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.
You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.
You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.
What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.
"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.
John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.
"It's not impossible."
"He's just not right for her, yeah?"
"And you are?"
John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."
"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.
"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."
His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.
"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.
"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"
"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.
"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.
"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."
He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.
"But something nearly happened, right?"
"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.
"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"
"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."
"I wanted to. I do want to."
"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.
Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."
"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.
"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"
"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."
His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.
"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.
"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."
"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.
"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"
John remained silent.
"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.
"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."
"John, I’m not-"
"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?
He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."
You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.
Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.
He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.
Just once?
You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.
Just once couldn't hurt.
***
The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?
Far better to keep his mouth shut.
Far better to play safe.
As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.
Just once?
He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.
Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.
***
to be continued!
#john shelby fluff#john shelby#john shelby x reader#john shelby imagine#john shelby reader insert#peaky blinders fluff#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders
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Gavin and Nines’ first encounter
Hank’s scars
Gavin’s scars
The Red Guard and the Snow Angel
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
Gavin is looking at the last fire Hank and Connor lit. The ashes are cold and damp. He looks at the footprints, they're barely visible but he can still identify Hank and another person's footprints.
Gavin : Where're you going old man ? And who's coming with you ?
*Noises behind him.*
He reaches for his sword but the other person is too fast.
Gavin : Who the fuck--- A Golem ?!
Nines : Be quiet, human. And don't move, or you'll lose your head.
Gavin : What the fuck you doing here, snowman ?!
Nines : Why are you following this track ?
Gavin : None of your fucking business!
Nines : Where did they go ?
Gavin realizes.
Gavin : … You can't track them… you don't know how. How long have you been following me, bastard ?
Nines : Answer me, human, or I'm killing you.
Gavin : You know what ? Go to hell.
x
Hank : You hear that ?
Connor : What ? I can hear many things, unlike you. Be more precise.
Hank : The wind. It's rising. A snowstorm is coming.
Connor : So ?
Hank : We need to find a cave or something, and gather wood to survive.
Connor : You're fucking kidding me ? We can't stop again ! We need to go forward !
Hank : Do as you want. I'm not risking the Frostbite for a fucking golem.
Connor : What the hell is a Frostbite ?
Hank : There is a snow spirit in these woods… it curses us, humans, whenever they’re caught in a snowstorm. It bites us and his magic freezes our blood.
Connor : ...Humans are so weak. I should have gone through this wood by myself.
Hank : As I said, smartass, do as you want.
x
Gavin is gagged and attached on his horse. Nines is walking in front of them, guiding the horse. The wind rises up.
Gavin : Hmmmpf !!! Hummmmppf !!
Nines : Be quiet.
Gavin : Hmmmhmmmmhmmpf !!!
*Nines sighs*
Nines takes the gag down.
Nines : What.
Gavin : A snowstorm is coming ! We need to find them before it starts or we'll lose the track ! Anderson must be looking for a shelter, we have to join them or we're gonna catch the Frostbite.
Nines : What nonsense are you saying…
Gavin : I'm not dying because you don't take it seriously. Untie me !
Nines : If you try to escape me…
Gavin : I'm not suicidal, snowman. This storm is gonna kill me faster than you.
Nines stares at the human suspiciously but finally unties him
Gavin : That way, and hurry up, snowy prick !
x
The storm is violent outside. Hank is in the cave but he checks his body and he's got the frostbite on his arm.
Hank : … shit.
Connor : … You've got it ? How ?
Hank : Humans… truly can't go through this forest it seems. Not since the magician vanished.
Connor : There must be a remedy! I can't lose more time going back to find another human for this quest.
Hank : Yeah, people say silent stars can cure it. It's … a white flower that grows in the forest… But I'll die from this curse before the storm settles.
Connor : I'm immune to snow magic! I'll find that flower. I need you, human. You hear me ? Don't die yet.
x
Connor is walking in the snowstorm.
Nines : Connor !
Connor : … Nines ? What… are you doing here? And who's this ???
Gavin is unconscious, thrown on the back of his own horse like a potato sack.
Nines : I found him following your track a few days ago, I used his knowledge to find you.
Connor : He's barely conscious… he must be covered with Frostbites…
Nines : … Oh yeah, he said something about this… curse or whatever. It doesn't matter now, I don't need him anymore.
Connor : Take him to the cave, it's just a few steps behind me.
Nines : What ? No, Connor, I'm here to take you back to Jericho.
Connor : I said I wouldn't go back before I find the magician. We have a chance to stop this cycle of hatred and violence, we have to try.
Nines : So where are you going ?
Connor : The human I choose to come with me, he's got Frostbite curse like yours. I have to find silent stars to save them.
Nines : You wanna save the humans ?
Connor : Nines, we need them.
Nines sighs in front of Connor’s stubbornness, but takes the horse to the cave just behind his brother.
x
Gavin : Hnnn… Where… Where am I…
Hank : In a cave.
Gavin : Bear Paw ?... I found you…
Hank : Why did you do that ?
Gavin :... Thought you were capturing golems... wanted to claim half of the merit…
Hank : Of course.
Gavin : I always thought… I'd die on the battlefield.
Hank : Yeah, me too. With some chance, we'll get a remedy.
Gavin : Sure, old man… it's gonna fall from the sky.
Hank : The golems went out to get some silent stars...
Gavin : Oh well, we're screwed … they're gonna give us up...
Hank : …
x
Nines : You don't even know where exactly he is.
Connor : But I know where to look. He's a powerful and eccentric magician. I'll find him one way or another.
Nines : If you die trying to find him, Jericho will lose a ferocious defender, and Markus and I will lose a brother.
Connor : Stop treating me like I'm unconscious! This situation is going to kill us all. We all need a long term solution, we can't keep… running into a wall like this !
Nines : We… You mean, humans too ?
Connor : I just said we needed a long term solution. Don't overthink it.
Nines : …
Nines is silent for a short moment, looking at Connor's back as he keeps walking in the snowstorm.
Nines : I'm going with you then. If the human tries something against you, I'll kill him and we'll go back to Jericho. Deal ?
Connor : I can take care of an old guy like him by myself, thanks.
x
They arrive at the cave.
Connor : Hey. We have the flowers.
Hank : …
Hank looks at the golem in confused disbelief.
Connor : Well, you look surprised ? Come on, do your potion or whatever. Hurry.
Hank : … Uh.
x
Hank : The storm settles. We can leave tomorrow in the morning.
Connor : Alright. I checked out the surroundings yesterday, we should go southeast, it'll be easier for Sumo.
Gavin : I'm coming.
Hank : Out of question. You go back to Detroit, Fowler's gonna need more hunters now I'm gone. It's finally your time to shine.
Gavin : You not my father, old man. If you really find Kamski I want to be part of it. If you don't, well, we can still take those two fuckers back to Detroit. I won't let you have all the glory.
Nines : I agree. I don't want to let the little human go back to his city with the informations he has. We keep him or we kill him.
Gavin : Hey, watch your mouth snowman ! I'm average in height.
Nines : Be grateful, little human, we saved your life.
Gavin : You mean you left me for dead. And don't fucking call me little !
Connor : Here we are ! Braverive…
Gavin : Finally. I need a bath. And a bed.
Hank : Be careful, alright ? If anyone sees you're golems, you're screwed.
x
The four men get to walk through the forest and reach the human outpost, Braverive. They find an inn to spend the night. The golems don’t need to sleep so they just take two bedrooms, for Hank and Gavin.
Hank enters his room.
Hank : You sure you don't need a bed ?
Connor : I can go in stasis standing up. I don't need to though. We barely need rest, but stasis is recommended at least once a week.
Hank : Alright. I'm worn out... G'night.
Connor watches as Hank takes his clothes off, until he only wears underwear. He has many scars, and the Golem can’t help but admire them in silent admiration. He knows those scars have been made by Golems but still... they show how skilled and ferocious of a warrior the human is. Connor admits those scars are... hot, in a way.
Hank sits in the bed and looks up.
Hank : Hey.
Connor : Hm ?
Hanks tosses him some cash.
Hank : Here, take your brother and use that money to buy a… decent outfit.
Connor :... What's indecent with this one ?
Hank : I'm sleeping. Don't talk to me.
x
Hank is awake, he looks by the window. Connor comes back from the market, where he seemingly bought human's traveling clothes, and enters the room.
Connor : You can't sleep ?
Hank : Hm… I sleep better when I'm… outside.
Connor : I thought humans enjoyed beds and comfort.
Hank : Sleeping in a bed… reminds me of a night I wish I could forget.
Connor : The night of Freedom ?
Hank : The night your people set fire to my neighborhood in order to escape. The night I lost my family. Remember that part, Connor ? When you killed innocent people...
Connor : … You blame us for fighting for freedom… I know... you're right. Many innocents perished that night. Not only on my side, I admit that.
Hank : … So… all I can do is… blaming that stupid war ?
Connor : … I'm sure we can put an end to it. I'm sure Kamski will… give us a solution. For both our peoples.
x
Gavin is sleeping, the sun is getting into the room. He's naked and has a lot of scars on his body, and bruises everywhere the Frostbite curse struck. Nines watches the marks silently. Golems can’t get scars... so it kinda mesmerizes him to see those darker lines on the human’s body. Somehow, it feels like Gavin is wearing other people’s marks on his body... That tells a story, not a pretty one, but a story nonetheless. Nines wonders if Gavin remembers who did each one of his scars... He wonders if he could mark him as well. Like... a trophy.
Gavin : You like what you see ?
Nines snaps out of his contemplation. Gavin sits up, rubbing his eyes
Nines : All of those are battle scars.
Gavin : Jealous ? No one who has let a trace on this body has survived, so be careful to not damage me in the future.
Nines : How many of my brothers and sisters did you kill ?
Gavin : I lost count.
Nines : … Who did the one on your nose ?
Gavin : ...Who cares. He's dead anyway.
#detroit become human#DBH#detroit become human au#dbh au#dbh connor#dbh hank#dbh gavin#dbh nines#hank x connor#hancon#hankcon#reed900#The red guard and the snow angel#TRGATSA
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If you are still taking meet ugly prompts, sternclay 22 nsfw???
Here you go!
22: you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship.
Note: I interpreted "first date" loosely. Slight content warning for mentions of blackmail, including blackmailing someone into a relationship.
It’s hard to tell where the sting of gin on his tongue ends and the sharpness of the pines through the window begins. The combination would invigorate him were it not for the conversation playing out at the other end of the short bar.
“...Last time, I’m not leaving.” The bartender, a mountain of a man who Joseph would love to climb, has been dealing with a persistent suitor for the better part of an hour. They’re the only people in the place; ski season is far behind them and summer isn’t here yet.
“C’mon, you’ve got no reason to hang around.”
“Yeah, actually, I do.” The bartender finishes cleaning glasses, turns to put them up.
“Don’t you fucking turn your back on me! I’m not through with you, oughta drag you outta here by your hair you cheap, dull-”
The next word is an unkind name for men who, like Joseph, prefer men in their beds. The bartender doesn’t respond, though his hands tighten around the glasses. Damn it, the world did not go for a second war just for him to let everyday evil slide by.
“That’s enough.” Joseph stands, moving to where the other patron wobbles on his stool, “him being uninterested doesn’t give you the right to abuse him.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty boy.”
“I know that if you don’t leave, I’ll escort you out.”
The man throws up his hands, spits at Joseph’s feet before stumbling and stomping for the door, “Three years, Barclay, you’re throwing away three years in one night, and you’re gonna regret it. I’ll make sure you do!”
“Don’t think you will.” Barclay mumbles as the door slams. He’s twisting his dishrag to the point it’s ripping.
“Three years? Good lord, I thought he was just a run-of-the-mill drunk.”
“Nope. If you can call him tracking me down every few months a relationship.”
“I’m sorry.” Joseph pulls out his handkerchief, kneeling to clean up the spit, “still, I apologize for getting in the middle of a, um, lovers quarrel.”
“Please don’t, I’m glad you stepped in. Don’t know what I woulda done if you hadn’t.” His brown eyes study Joseph more closely, “have I seen you here before?”
“Through there.” He indicates the pass-through to the kitchen, “I come here as often as I can since the food can’t be beat.”
“Thanks.” Barclay smiles, starts wiping the counter, “yeah, Dani usually tends bar after the kitchen closes but her wife is down with the flu. Only seemed fair to let her take time to look after her.”
A big heart to go with a big frame? Joseph’s in big trouble.
“You, uh, you up here for the lakes or…” He’s now directly across from Joseph, sliding a fresh gin and tonic in front of him.
“I’m a private detective, a one man operation as of 1949; Kepler’s the optimal spot for me, since it’s between the mountain towns and the eastern edge of the city. That’s a lot of people who might need help. Not to mention lots of the residents closer to the lakes are wealthy, the kind where they’re always looking for someone to trail a straying spouse or track down the pearls their no-good layabout son sold for dope.” He lets a little bit of scorn enter his voice in hopes of letting Barclay know he doesn’t always agree with his clients, but that a man has to make a living.
Barclay rolls his shoulders, then leans forward, “any fun cases so far?”
Joseph pulls off his jacket as he thinks; if Barclay’s really interested, they might be here awhile.
---------------------------------------------------
He’s an early riser, so the banging on the door to his house (and office) interrupts his breakfast and not his rest. Joseph opens it and then fights to keep it that way.
“Detective Hayes. This is a surprise.” He smiles.
“I’m not here to catch up, Stern. I’m here so you can answer one, simple question: where were you between eleven-thirty and midnight last night?”
“In the dining room at Amnesty Lodge, talking with the bartender. If you need to verify that, just go to the Lodge and ask for Barclay.”
Hayes glowers in a way he recognizes as, “this won’t be an easy case like I assumed” and turns without a word. Two officers follow him. The third, Dewey, hesitates. He’d always been a pal. Joseph shoots him a confused look.
“Guy got shot in the woods near the Lodge last night. His only known contact in town was the bartender, and everyone else we questioned said the two had been arguing for a few days. Hayes thought the cook was a shoo-in to book but, well, his alibi aligns with what you said. Plus, some ranger Owens talked to said he saw Barclay talking to someone in the dining room at the time of the murder. Guess he was walking by the window on his way to-”
“Dewey! Get the hell over here!”
As his informant scurries up the hill to join the others, Joseph steps back inside to finish his toast. He only gets through one piece before the phone rings, summoning him to the managers office at Amnesty Lodge.
Madeline “Mama” Cobb sits behind her desk, whittling with the kind of force that suggests she’s doing this in place of putting her knife to another use.
“Barclay tells me you’re a detective.”
“That’s right, Miss. Cobb.”
“Great. I’m hirin’ you to find out who the hell killed his useless ex and is tryin to frame him for it.”
He sits down, intrigued, “I thought the police were handling the investigation.”
“I ain’t inclined to trust ‘em. Barclay can’t think of someone who’d set him up, and the police don’t think he was. Yet. But I happen to know there were scraps of a shirt Barclay owns on the trees nearby and that the fella who died had this on him.”
She holds a crumpled paper out. He unfolds it, reads, “Come to the old mill at a quarter until midnight. B.” He looks up, “meant to stand for Barclay, one would assume?”
“Yep. Whoever wrote that did a decent job forgin it.”
“How can you be sure it’s fake?”
“Because I got plenty of documents where Barclay describes a time. He just uses numbers, not words like ‘quarter until.”
“Did you suspect a set-up before you lifted this from the body so the cops wouldn’t find it?” Joseph tucks the note into his inside pocket.
“Course I did. You’re new in town, but there ain’t a person here who’d say Barclay is anythin but gentle. He ain’t about to shoot someone in cold blood, even that fucker.” She sighs, takes off her hat and runs a hand through greying hair, “that boy is as good as a brother to me. I know he’s been through some rough shit. He don’t deserve to get caught up in some goddamn murder scheme. So name your price, Mr. Stern; so long as it keeps him outta trouble, I’ll pay it.”
---------------------------------------------
He’s elbow-deep in Barclay’s dresser when the cook returns from his shift; he gave Joseph permission to search his room for signs of whoever took his shirt, but still, the other man doesn’t seem pleased with his presence.
“I’m sorry, but I have to be thorough. I’ll be out of here as soon as I can.”
“S’fine.” Barclay slumps down on the bed. After a moment he murmurs, “I know Mama hired you, but is there anyway I can convince you to quit? She, the Lodge doesn’t have much cash to spare this time of year. I don’t want anyone going without on my account and, and maybe this will all blow over if I just lie low, y’know?”
“It might. But until I think that’s the outcome, I’m inclined to agree with Miss. Cobb that we should work to keep you clear of this. And” he watches Barclay stand, moving to the window so he won’t have to see Joseph rifling through his life, “I promise that if it comes down to getting paid or bankrupting the Lodge, I’ll stop taking my fee. This is a good place and, um, it clearly means a lot to you. That makes it worth some belt-tightening on my end.”
“Thanks.” Barclay stares into the woods, then looks over his shoulder, “Joseph, I-”
It’s only because the mirror is above the dresser that he sees the black barrel peek from the trees. With no time to yell, he dives forward, pulling Barclay to the floor as the first bullet makes shards of the window.
“What the fuck?!” Barclay covers his head as another shot flies over them
“I think we just confirmed Miss. Cobb’s theory!” He pops up, fires once, and drops back down. Whoever’s in the trees isn’t expecting someone armed, so in place of another bullet they get breaking branches.
Joseph gives chase, leaping out the window and sprinting into the trees. Were they in downtown L.A, hell, even if he was still in Chicago, he’d have a better chance of staying on his target. But there’s no paths, no short-cuts, and every tree looks the same at this speed, cloaking the shape in the distance. Worst of all, he discovers that instead of dead-ending at a brick wall, he dead ends at a rockface.
Oh, and his hand is bleeding. He must have cut himself jumping out the window.
It looks like his investigation just took on a bodyguard element, and his wish to spend more time with Barclay could end with them both looking like swiss cheese.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
“You could talk to Duck.” Barclay finishes bandaging the slash on the back of Joseph’s left hand, “he works in the state park near here and knows a ton about the layout of the woods. There, not too tight?” He sits back on his heels as Joseph tests the tightness of the bandage.
“It’s great, big guy. Um, I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”
“I don’t mind it” he winks, “pretty boy.”
His visit with Duck the next day, while informative, doesn’t give him much insight into how their assailant disappeared, especially when Duck points out that the rock face he ran across is over a mile long and hard to climb without equipment or a death wish. At least the ranger outfits him with a map with written-in details; most are about trails that are likely to be muddy (and thus hold prints) or spots where a person might be able to hide. And some hike recommendations, just because.
He tries not to think about taking Barclay on the one to a secluded lake and fucking him under the stars.
His schedule alternates between sitting in his office taking and making calls, shadowing Barclay when he’s out on errands or otherwise vulnerable (he’s spent more than a few nights on the floor of his room, that velvety baritone talking to him until they both fall asleep), and scouring the woods for clues.
A jay heckles a squirrel, which surrenders it’s pinecone and scrambles along the rocks. He’s wishing he could be so nimble when it climbs up and then...disappears. Following it, he discovers what he dismissed as endless rock is an optical illusion; the rocks above and behind align with the ones in front and below to make it seem as if it’s a flat face. But when he climbs over the bottom rock, he finds a narrow slot canyon. One big enough for a human.
Fifteen minutes of granite scratching his back later, he’s at the other side of the rocks. Smoke curls up his nose, and he trails the scent to a cabin which, according to Duck, is on a strange pocket of private property, just up a frontage road. Stranger still is the sign out front.
I.C All
Tarot, Palm Reading, and Other Psychic Services.
He knocks as wind chimes sing lazily around him.
“Come in!”
The first room is divided by a curtain, the half he’s in a rather eclectic waiting room. The dining room and kitchen are probably on the other side of the pink and yellow cloth.
Waiting for him in the next room is a man with a distinctly beatnik air about him, from his red glasses down to his brightly colored shawl and shoulder length hair. Laid out before him is a tarot deck, crystal ball, and several black candles. But that’s not what concerns Joseph.
“Before I sit down, can you ask your friend hiding in the bureau to come out?”
“Fuck” the beaura hisses, “uh, I mean, uh, there ain’t, uh, fuck-”
“It’s alright dearest, I suspect we may all benefit from this.” He gestures for Joseph to sit, “Apologies, but my hope was you were either a client I could turn away or one in search of a brief reading that I could perform before returning to more...pleasurable activities.” He grins as none other than Duck Newton steps from the creaky wooden bureau, looking like he’s been wrestling a very amorous tiger.
“Afternoon, Joe.” Duck sits on the nearby couch, “didn’t take you for the fortune tellin’ type.”
“I’m more interested in whether Mr…”
“Cold, but my friends call me Indrid.”
“Whether Indrid has noticed anyone coming and going on his property without permission?”
“I can’t say that I have, though it’s hard to do so; the walkway is guarded by Beacon, our dog, and everything but the walk up to the cabin is fenced off or, well, a massive wall of rock.”
“...Come with me.”
Soon, Duck is studying the slot canyon while Indrid worries his lower lip.
“I had no idea this was here.”
“No one did. It ain’t on any of the maps, and I never heard of anyone findin it on accident.” Duck pulls back, popping his hat on as he turns to Joseph, “this got somethin to do with Barclay?”
“I think whoever shot at us used this to get away. For all we know, the person who killed Mr. Douglas did the same.”
“To think, I encouraged Barclay to come here even more often once he told me his predicament; I thought no one could approach us without me seeing them coming. No, no this will not do at all” he shakes his head, “he needs to go see her.”
“You know he won’t, sugar.”
“He must. It’s the safest place for him. And the last anyone will look.”
Joseph looks between them, but before he can ask Indrid simply says, “You should ask Barclay about the Greenbank House. That story isn’t ours to tell.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------
“Home sweet home.” Barclay grumbles as he and Joseph step out of the car and into the shadow of a mansion in the most exclusive neighborhood in Lakeshore. It took all of his friends telling him he should go--and Joseph assuring him it’s location meant it wouldn’t look like he was trying to run away from the scene of the murder--for the cook to agree to a stay at his family home.
“What are you afraid of?” Joseph keeps his tone gentle as they climb the front steps. His friend had simply said he had unhappy memories of the house and would rather live in a mausoleum then stay there.
“It’s more dread. You’ll see when we get inside.” He knocks on the front door. It’s opened by the least congruous face imaginable; a man with greying hair and a groundskeepers clothes. When he sees Barclay, a smile bursts across his face.
“Barclay! How are you kiddo?”
“I’m...I’m okay. It’s good to see you Thacker.” He offers a genuine smile as he opens his arms and gathers the older man into a hug. When they separate, Joseph offers his hand and introduces himself. Having an extra guest delights Thacker, and he ushers them in with a promise that he’ll have rooms ready to go in a jiff.
“How’s Maddie doin’?”
“She’s good, and she’ll still slug your arm for that nickname.”
“Good old Maddie.” Thackers cheer falters, “do you wanna go see your ma? If I didn’t know you were comin, gonna guess she didn’t neither.”
“Yeah. Yeah I should go see her. Joseph, you don’t, uh, you don’t need to come with me if you don’t want to.”
“It’s only polite to meet my hostess.”
Barclay leads him up a flight of stairs, then down a hallway where dust substitutes for walllpaper. Waiting for them in a red and orange toned bedroom is a woman with greying, black hair and a face not unlike Barclay’s.
“Dear heart” she rises from her armchair, drawing her son to her, “you came back.”
“Just to visit, Ma. Uh, this, this is Joseph. He’s a friend of mine. He’ll be staying here too.”
She studies him with a critical eye; Joseph thought Hayes had a judgemental gaze, but she could beat him any day.
“Hmm. The more the merrier, as she always said. How long will you stay?”
“A few weeks.”
She nods, regards the photo of another woman above the mantelpiece as if seeking council, “You’re not here for pleasure.”
“No.” Barclay rubs his arm, “I...I got into some trouble. Andrew Douglas was shot the night I broke things off with him. The cops are leaving me alone for now but someone else wants me dead.”
The woman’s face suggests she both recognizes and despises that name, “We will keep you safe.”
With that, she sits once more and picks up her book. Barclay hesitates, then bends to kiss her forehead before pulling Joseph from the room.
--------------------------------------------------
“How long ago did your mother die?” Joseph kicks his legs up onto the ottoman. Barclay alluded to her passing previously, but never gave details.
“When I was eighteen. Car accident. She went off the Kepler bridge. They, uh, they never found her, and just found part of the wreck.”
He intends to leave it there; they’re on the back porch overlooking the garden (“Thackers pride and joy”), early summer dusk on their skin and their arms occasionally brushing from the edges of their chairs. No need to kill the mood further. He just wanted some kind of context for the house and the widow within it.
“Ma never recovered. She loved mom so much that losing her was like losing a lung; she can get through her days, even enjoy them, but it will always be hard. She tried to keep mom around however she could; the whole goddamn house is the same as it was the day she died, even my room. She wanted me to stay too, but Mama offered me the job and I just...I couldn’t live in a haunted house anymore.”
Joseph tips his hand to the right, extending his fingers into the space between them. Barclay takes it and holds tight.
“I’m so sorry, Barclay. You had every right to leave, to make your own life.”
“I know.” He runs his thumb across Joseph’s knuckles, “okay, pretty boy, my turn for a tough question; why’d you really leave the police force.”
It’s not that tough a question, not when he knows the man he’s confiding in won’t go running to Hayes, “I joined the force because I wanted to solve mysteries and help people. But it turned out there was a lot less seeking justice and a lot more chasing off drunks who just needed a place to sleep off benches and harassing certain neighborhoods. Then I worked out that the chief was taking bribes from all kinds of places and was naive enough to think someone might listen to me and help me when I told them. Instead they threw me off the force. In hindsight, it could have been worse; they could have killed me and covered it up.”
“Jesus.” Barclay polishes off his drink, contemplates the ice, “glad they didn’t. Both because, y’know, world is better with you alive, but, uh, also because if they had we’d never have met.”
Joseph meets his eyes, smiling in a way that makes the other man blush, “that would’ve been a damn shame.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is turning into one of the stranger cases he’s worked, in good ways and bad. The good is that his work days, when he’s not on the phone or digging through his notes, are spent with Barclay. His friend insists on cooking, has even brought him lunch at his desk, and usually the two of them have dinner with Thacker in the garden. They read or play chess in the study, take walks through the labyrinthine grounds, and even swim in the open air pool. Barclay in his swim trunks is a fine sight indeed. Joseph wonders if he ever brought boyfriends here, ever kissed them in the blue water or let them have their way with him in some hidden patch of lawn.
But it’s not all roses and revelry. The more he roots around in Andrew Douglas’s past, and in Barclay’s, the more questions he has. Why did Andrew come and go? What happened to large portions of Raquel and Sylvia (Barclay’s parents) fortune? And who wants to kill someone with no criminal record, no known enemies, and no heirs? If it’s the same person who murdered Andrew, killing Barclay would remove their fall-guy, so that makes no sense as a move.
His best lead comes when he learns Barclay’s family and Andrew Douglas lived in San Francisco at the same time. A friend in the city agrees to do some sniffing around there for any information that might point towards their killer. Two days later, he calls back and says he’s sending Joseph a “fucking brick” of evidence in the mail.
It’s been several days and he’s still waiting. He dozed off in his room after dinner, intending to cat nap, but it seems he’s overshot; it’s after ten. At least the mail must have come by now.
“Barclay? Did anything come--you have five goddamn seconds to explain yourself.”
His friend stammers from his seat on the bed, surrounded by papers, photo’s, newsprint, and a manila envelope with Joseph’s name on it.
“I, uh, I, it isn’t-”
“This is all evidence collected for the purpose of protecting you, so if you have something you’re afraid of me finding you’d better start talking now.” He snaps, looming over the other man from the edge of the bed.
Wordlessly, Barclay hands him a piece of newspaper. It details a kidnapping, one that ends--happily--with the victim being returned to their family. Four names are mentioned, but none of the perpetrators are the man in front of him.
“I was sixteen. A stupid kid. I had this perfect life and I got a little stir crazy, a little bored, and fell in with some other rich kids who felt the same. It started out harmless. Then James, the guy in charge, decided we should dream bigger. I was so, so fucking in love with him, I didn’t try to stop him. Not right away, anyway. I...I was their look-out for that kidnapping. But I couldn’t let them keep it up.”
“You struck a deal.”
Barclay nods, “Best part is, I managed to do it without either of my parents getting wise. We moved here soon after. I thought I could put it behind me.”
Joseph takes a closer look at the paper. The byline for the article is one A. Douglas.
“He blackmailed you.”
“Not at first. He, he” Barclay takes a shaky breath, “he went to mom first. Asked her how much she’d pay to keep my name out of the papers. James had told him about me and he was going to spread the story. That’s why she was on that fucking bridge in the middle of a fucking storm; she was meeting him.”
“Oh, Barclay.” Evidence crumples under his knees as he sits to comfort his friend.
“Then he came to me; now not only was I paying to keep the story quiet, I was paying to keep him from telling Ma why Mom died.”
“She died because of a blackmailer, wet cement, and a weak guard rail. Not because of you.”
Barclay looks at him, eyes coffee cups of sorrow, and simply shakes his head. Then he crumples forward and Joseph catches him, holds him tight while he finishes his story through his tears.
He paid off Andrew for three years. Ned Chicane, owner of the Kepler Museum of Curiosities, helped him with the family accounts so Raquel wouldn’t notice anything suspicious. Whenever Andrew came around, he demanded Barclay act as his “boyfriend” for the duration of the visit.
“Everyone must think I have terrible taste in men.”
Once they establish that, as far as Barclay is aware, only Ned knows about the blackmail, Joseph cups his face and says, as firmly as gentleness allows, “From now on, I need you to be truthful with me. You said you didn’t want me putting the pieces together because you were ashamed, but all I want is to help you. I can’t do that if there are big things you’re hiding from me. Understand?”
Barclay nods, and apologizes the entire time they’re gathering the strewn pieces back into the envelope.
“Barclay?” Joseph cuts him off and eases him down until he’s on his back, “I forgive you. Now please go to sleep before you pass out from stress.”
The cook smiles at him, eyes already fluttering closed, “You’re the boss, Joseph.”
He ignores all the urges that kickstarts in him and leaves his friend to sleep in peace.
-------------------------------------------------------
“Y’know, kind of wish we’d known each other back then.” Barclay looks up from where he’s helping Joseph sort the new evidence on the floor, “when I was in San Francisco, I mean.”
“It would have taken more than just a change of scene for me; my family does alright, but I’d have been way outside your circles.”
“So? Maybe then I coulda had a boyfriend who was ‘disreputable’ for bullshit reasons instead of real ones.”
“I’ve never once been disreputable.” He looks up from the photos in his hand, “and is that your way of telling me something, big guy.”
“Yes. I, uh, you can tell me to knock it off, but I, uh, I think you’re swell. It’s okay if you don’t feel that way but you said I should be…” he trails off as Joseph leans into his space,”honest.”
He kisses him once, so brief it barely counts but the larger man whimpers and tries to grab him before he pulls away.
“If we’re going to do this, I need you to promise me that you’ll tell me to hit the brakes if you need to; it won’t change my dedication to the case.”
“I promise.” There’s no dishonesty in his face, just boundless hope and affection.
“In that case, big guy” he lunges forward, pinning him to the rug, “you’re all mine.”
An unexpectedly high whine leaves his lover.
“You like when I’m rough?”
“Uh, uh huh, so much, people always want me to be and I don’t want to, wanna be, wanna beAHHHhhnnn” he arches his back as Joseph bites the patch of skin just below his beard.
“You’re so gentle, big guy, I thought you’d go straight to making love but” another bite, another gasp, “I think I’d better fuck you instead.”
“Please.” Barclays hands glide up to cup Joseph’s face and guide him down into another kiss.
Joseph rolls his hips forward and his sleeves up as speaks, “Now that you mention it, I can see how things would’ve gone if we met earlier. I was an obedient son but not beyond sneaking someone into my room when my parents were away” he undoes Barclay’s shirt, keeps grinding against him and licking his lips as he feels him getting hard, “or maybe we met down here, and you’d sneak me into the backyard.”
“Fuck, yes.” Barclays chest heaves as Joseph cards his fingers up through the dark hair to tease his nipples, “god, if how I, fuck, feel now is a clue, I’d have been so fucking mad for you.” He makes a charming groan as Joseph tongues his nippls and then nibbles his way up to his ear.
“It’s funny” Joseph kisses his cheek, “I knew so many guys like you on the force. Not you now, used to hard work and worry, but you then; spoiled and softer than a boiled egg.” He allows himself a moment of savoring their cocks teasing each other through their pants before continuing, “always wanted to discipline them, because it was clear no one ever did.”
“Please show me how.”
“Why?” He grins down at him, toying with his left nipple until it’s bright red.
“Because I wanna be good for you, Joseph. Wanna be every fantasy you ever had.”
“...Lord god almighty how am I supposed to say no to that?” Joseph undoes his suspenders, laughing at Barclay’s triumphant smile, “you’re a dream, big guy.”
He crawls so he’s straddling Barclays face, cock dripping pre-cum onto his lips. Barclays tongue keeps peeking out from between them, but doesn’t go further without permission.
“Since this is disciplinary, you don’t get a say in how it goes. You’ll take my cock as long and as deep as I want it, because I’m superior to you and you’re here to do what I say”
“Fuckyeah” Barclay paws Joseph’s thighs, opens his mouth so he can guide the head in.
“That, ohyes, that being said, if it’s really too much, tap my thigh twice.”
Barclay nods to show he understands, but is already pre-occupied sucking his cock like he’s starving for it.
“A good start, big guy, but if I just wanted my cock wet I’d have gone swimming.” He cups the back of Barclays head in both hands, “I want something to fuck, and your face is it.”
The man beneath him moans, fucks the air uselessly as Joseph pushes further in. He finds the resistance of his throat with a half-inch to go, and decides that’s good enough. He pulls halfway out, pushes back in, repeats the process a few times before finding his rhythm. Weeks of wanting mean it’s hurried and greedy, but the resulting moans suggest Barclay approves.
“You look so good like this, Barclay. God, if you’d been some fresh-faced officer, one look of those doe-eyes is all it, shit, would’ve taken for me to make this the only discipline you ever got. Any time I needed to put you in your place or just, fuck, just needed to let off some steam, I’d do this, get my, my cock in your mouth so often you’d run out of spit and be thankful for my cum in, in it’s place.”
Barclay is groping him again, eyes bright and lips managing some upward curve as his cock forces them apart.
“Then again” he tenderly massages Barclay’s scalp, “there’s no reason I can’t do that in this universe. Oh, ohshit, Barclay-” his words desert him as he cums, the other man swallowing eagerly and sucking him clean before he pulls out.
Joseph glances over his shoulder, “Can I take care of that for you?”
“Fuck, please?”
He rolls off of the cook, stays on his side and slips one arm under his shoulders. Then he sets his palm on the monstrous bulge in Barclay’s jeans and sets to work.
“I, I should unzip-”
“No” he kisses him, “we’re surrounded by evidence that I can’t have you cumming on. Don’t worry, I’ll clean up the mess you make cumming in your pants like a teenager.”
“Promise?” It’s an odd thing to say, but Joseph thinks he understands.
“I promise.” He quickens his pace, Barclay’s grunts growing louder when he does, “I’ll take care of you, big guy. I’ll look after you. You don’t have to lift a finger when I’m around.”
“Joseph.” Is all the reply he gets, Barclay already turning as cum spreads across his fly and clinging to the detective. His breath is hot, stays shaky even as his cock stops pulsing.
“Barclay? Baby, are you alright?”
“So fucking good, babe. I, I uh” he holds him tighter, “this is the first thing to make sense to me in years. Loving you, having you in my life, I get how we fit together so easily. Everything else, the murder, Ma, this person lurking around the last place that feels like home waiting to hurt me or hurt Mama or someone there, all of it, it’s so goddamn tangled I’m worried it’ll never get straight.”
Joseph rests their cheeks together, “We’ll figure it out, big guy. I promise.”
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Chapter 41
of the wwx emperor au that’s back to being called Emperor Wei WuXian And His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40
The South Lakes courtyard is wrapped in gloom.
Wei Ying feels guilty for his late arrival. For the second day in the row he had promised A-Yuan that he would visit, and had failed to show before the boy had been put to bed.
The lingering feeling of regret over placing Jin ZiXuan in the dungeons disappears completely. Had the ridiculous peacock not made a scene outside the council hall, Wei Ying would have gotten at least fifteen minutes with A-Yuan, even if those fifteen minutes only allowed him to put the kid to sleep with an obnoxious fairytale or two.
He comforts himself with the knowledge that tomorrow is the Gifting Ceremony, which means that every clan and sect should be preparing to leave the Immortal Mountain. Of course, having placed Jin ZiXuan in the dungeon, Wei Ying must bear Jin GuangShan’s presence a little longer. He is sorely tempted to release the brat just so he can see Jin GuangShan’s backside pass through the Five Phoenix Gate with all the other sect leaders.
He will not do so. He cannot show lenience to someone who had so blatantly disrespected him in front of half the Council.
It does not bother Wei Ying so much that Jin ZiXuan had drawn his sword; they had seen each other compete mere days ago, and Young Master Jin had to know that he had no chance of winning, even if Wei Ying had been alone and unprotected. It does bother him that Jin ZiXuan had acted in such an unreasonable and stupid manner. Perhaps the engagement had meant a great deal to him. Perhaps Jin ZiXuan does care for shijie more than he is capable of displaying thought that thick veneer of narcissism and arrogance.
But despite his earlier words to uncle Jiang, Wei Ying has never truly believed Jin ZiXuan to be stupid. Smug and self-important, yes. Vain and haughty, heavens yes. But stupid enough to attack the Emperor in front of dozens of guards and Sect Leaders? Sect Leaders who may fawn over his father on good days, but are perfectly capable of turning on him the moment the Jin Sect fortune begins to decline?
Wei Ying does not think Jin ZiXuan stupid, but he does think the boy’s pride and arrogance are likely to leave him vulnerable to the wrong type of influence. He would wager that the true instigator of today’s events was not Jin ZiXuan, but someone standing directly behind him.
But to what purpose?
“Finally,” Wen Qing’s voice comes from the darkness, “I was about to send guards in the search of you.”
Wei Ying pauses, half-way across the courtyard, his stomach twisting in anticipation,
“Wen Ning is back? We have a response?”
“We do,” she says, and he can read nothing from her voice, or her vague silhouette near the pavilion door, “come inside. It has taken me nearly an hour to decode it; I had to ask Granny to help. She is very upset with you, by the way.”
Wei Ying grimaces. It is not that he does not trust her, or Granny Wen, or Wen Ning and Uncle Four, but the more there are of those who know a secret, the less likely it is to remain a secret. He supposes that all the years of Nie HuaiSang’s influence could be blamed for his overabundance of caution. A-Sang is a firm believer in telling people only those things that they absolutely needed to know.
“Jiang Cheng knew,” she says, her tone now accusing.
“I was not the one to tell him,” Wei Ying says.
He leaves out the part where he would have told him, regardless. He would have felt guilty about keeping anything of such magnitude from Jiang Cheng, but it had been A-Sang who had decided that Jiang Cheng should be informed. Wei Ying had simply... not questioned the decision.
“Get inside,” she says “You have a lot of explaining to do.”
Wei Ying expects to meet Granny Wen’s accusing glare the moment he steps into the pavilion, but the only people waiting for him are Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng. He heaves a sigh of relief, even as he habitually moves to prevent Wen Ning from bowing.
“Uncle Four?” he says.
“Stayed behind,” Wen Ning says, then rushes to explain, “we were not sure what the message said, and he would not try and decode it in YiLing. We thought-- if things turned out badly, it may help to have him outside the Immortal Mountain.”
“The message,” Wei Ying says, impatient, “Where is it?”
Jiang Cheng hands him a piece of paper. Wen Qing’s lovely lines are obvious in each character, the ink still slightly damp in places. He takes care not to smudge it; A-Sang will want to see it as soon as possible.
It is an agreement. Wen RuoHan has agreed to his proposal.
Wei Ying’s knees feel weak; he fights the urge to sit down on the floor.
“Where is the original?”
Wen Qing is the one to hand it over, Wen RuoHan’s signature large and stark, his personal seal nestled next to the red Sun Seal of the Wen Sect.
He grins at Jiang Cheng, and finds Jiang Cheng grinning back. The grin is wide, making him look young and careless, the way he had not been since all of them were children together, hunting imaginary demons through Iron Palm Palace halls.
“Uncle Four has gotten two more messages from his men in the Nightless City,” Wen Ning says, “The rumor is that the Second Young Master of the Wen Sect has gotten himself into some trouble with the YingChuan Wang Sect. The Sect Leader’s youngest daughter. Some rumors say that he has already been married, quickly and quietly, as the trouble is-- uh-- time sensitive. Other rumors state that the wedding will take place soon."
“Granny thinks that Wen RuoHan will send an official letter to the Immortal Mountain,” Wen Qing says, “as a means of informing the Emperor of his youngest son’s indiscretion, apologizing for the Wen Sect absence, and asking for forbearance in these trying times.”
“That old fucker,” Wei Ying says in delight, and does not even mind when Wen Qing slaps him on the shoulder.
Even a year ago, he would have thought it impossible to feel even a grudging sort of respect for Wen RuoHan, but the man has managed to throughly impress him.
“He should be in prison for treason,” Wen Qing says, “Instead, you have provided him with everything he has ever wanted.”
She sounds vaguely disapproving; it is impossible to tell if she objects to the plan, the methods used, or the fact that he had not consulted her ahead of time. Still, Wei Ying is far too happy with the outcome to feel guilty for keeping secrets.
“Good,” he retorts, tucking the letter into his sleeve, “and may we never see another war or a rebellion as a result. Where is Granny? I am more than prepared to be scolded now.”
“She is with Song Lan,” Jiang Cheng answers in Wen Qing’s place, “he arrived not long before you did.”
“Song Lan? Why is he here?”
Before anyone has had a chance to answer the question, the man himself is already hovering at the entrance to the receiving hall. Elated by their success with Wen RuoHan, Wei Ying does not immediately notice the tightness of Song Lan’s features, or the wary set of his shoulders. The moment he does, however, his earlier euphoria vanishes in an instant.
Between Lan Zhan, the Council, and Jin ZiXuan’s stupidity, he had forgotten the initial reason behind Song Lan and uncle XingChen’s arrival. Now, seeing the troubled expression on Song Lan’s face, he feels a heavy sense of foreboding.
“He is here,” Wei Ying says, “the person you are hunting. He is in the Immortal Mountain.”
It is not a question, and Song Lan’s curt nod does not fill him with surprise. It seems expected somehow, that this news would come at the heels of the other, as if the string of events was somehow predestined.
He grins humorlessly, and rubs the side of his nose.
Destiny is not set in stone. Perhaps in the course and culmination of human life, there exists some objective certainty that is both transcendent and beyond human control, but his approach has always been a rational one, and now that same rationality offers a different answer.
This is no preordination. Wei Ying has simply come to anticipate that any success, any accomplishment, any occasion in which he may find joy and contentment, will come with a cost.
The realization is bitter and unhappy, and he pushes it away.
“Tell me what you have discovered.”
#the untamed#cql#mdzs#ficlet#m#wwx emperor au#they made me stay up to get swabbed AGAIN today#my nose is suffering#but no sleep means some writing#about 5 chapters left#i've stopped adding up the word count i don't think i wanna know#ily chickens
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I think it’s time to show some lines and how much I’ve improved eh?
“ You see, we're all living our lives confined in this little, locked room, we store our thoughts here, our dreams, our doubts, our darkest confessions. But the right people come along with a key and find the real us quivering in a corner of ourselves we fear with all our fuckin' might. All of humanity fears. And so in the span of a blink life created death to separate what is bad, and what is good. “ - Shawn Werdelstein
“ I look deep into my eyes and I swear I can see her darkness flickering in my damn eyes, she took my heart in her murderous stride, flaying me of all my salvation, tellin' me I was nothin' more then livestock on her farm of delicacies and delights. “ - Lupin Rinderez
“In the end I was never really human in the eyes of those who hate me, was I? I was always a toy to those more wicked then I, and so I have rotted in a chest of forgotten dolls and stitched together souls lost to time." - Ingretta Shazowlla
“ Some men are born for prison. They're raised in a cell, and told this is all you can ever be, and when they finally scratch their way out of that prison, they start to get homesick, so they find themselves a new cell, a new Hell, a new home away from home. Chaos is peace ta the broken man. “ - Francis Killvawhile
“ Karma doesn't care about how small the sin was, she just reaps. “ - Scarla Scottaine
“ There's something foreign about an empty bed, something unfamiliar about holding my own hand, it's like love is a language we speak, and when it leaves us we can no longer speak the language of the loveless, because we're already native in the country of love. “ - Finn Desandra
“ The darkness of my past caught up to me and killed the kind pure hearted man I thought I'd forever be, I was always doomed to become a reflection of my father. But with these bloodied and cracked pieces of me I'll bleed him with broken pieces of his reflection. “ - Alviro Conritz
“Isn't it funny? How men and women alike will pull a trigger on another when faced with a gun at their own heart, held steady in the hand of a man who never misses?” - Remington Burlwitz
“ I am Eve luring Adam to his fate.” - Belle Nalroma
“ I am a grave of fireflies and ravens whom head out to war, a wolf of death and anguish that drove me to madness. Don't you call me a freak, I'm just a little bit different, my mind is an eternal state of flickering emotion and madness that has never left me be. In truth the firing of this rifle is the only thing that keeps me alive, it is the beating of my heart and the howl in my soul, so dare you fire back with pieces of your heart shattered in the bullets? “ - Luther Woolhaun
“ I feel like a blank slate that's always re-written. “ - Wendell Ace
"I look at who I am with judgmental eyes.” - Earl Mumford
“ Believe the tales of dead men, they have a perspective like no other. “ - Earl Mumford
“ Stepping up to me ain't a fucking war, it's an execution disguised as such. “ - Saul Northutt
“ Decaying and gentle I shall be lain to rest as the Devil the world mourned. “ - Jonkiv Kramteil
“ Look, the truth is a hard pill to swallow, but swallow it you will. “ - Simon Rossburg
“ I'm a killer and a cheat, if my dagger is unstained remember, there's etches of lives lost on the handle, do you really wanna become another scar on the wood of my blade? “ - Killgrove Butcher
“ Mercy is a surefire way to meet God, so I sling an old club wrapped in barbed wire over my shoulder and watch the river spill crimson. “ - Olivia Juarez
"They call kindness weakness, so I must be the strongest bitch in town.” - Olivia Juarez
“ My wrath comes down like a cold rain of daggers when faced with the wicked, if they ain't ready to die then they best fucking prepare for it, cause those who use the powerless as a simple stepping stone to Heaven don't deserve the breath in their damn lungs. “ - Lucille Ramaswami
“ That man, that wicked fuckin' man, 'e's an old vulture sittin' atop the Church waitin' for the holy ta fall down the steeple, 'e swoops down and picks their bones 'a love, 'a holiness, 'a morality. And den, the holy become the damned. “ - Maxwell Soderstrom
“ The Devils and snakes in the grass should fear the gardener with his shovel ready to bury the pests." - Guarva Plucker
“ Don't call me your hero, cause heroes don't kill good men." - Al Hunderson
"Brother, there's somethin' sinister brewin' in the bones of humanity, has been since the Neanderthals huddled in caves, lighting fires underneath the murky walls of a place they could call home. I'm afraid you're gonna have to be a little more specific." - Roman Hemlock
"Ya can always spot the little, tinges of darkness in the bad man's eye, the little seams of pain that follows 'em." - Sandro Colorfeid
"I slither and slide into the darkness, a basilisk hiding in shadow and sin, biting into the forbidden fruit of Eden with glee and cruelty flickering in my snake likes eyes." - Vexine Hatchet
"I stood with blood on my hands and a snarl on my lip. It was from that moment on, Nico no longer were." - Nico Litchenfels
“ I'm a cutthroat fucker with his heart bared open and cruel on his trench jacket's sleeve. “ - Nico Litchenfels
"I stood like a question never asked, and then before I had the chance to give myself an answer in the echoes of my insanity, she smiled and asked who I was." - Zachariah Rinderez
"I have died a thousand times, Minerva. But you make me want to live again." - Simon Drogace
"I'm not lucky enough to be me." - Simon Drogace
“Do you ever feel like, your mind is a hammer?” - Simon Drogace
"He stood there, like a wicked omen of what never should've been, a testament to all humanity tried to kill." - Neal Marrows
"Losing yourself is a game no one can win." - Neal Marrows
"You know me, just a grave of who I was, grasping the soil wondering why it always slips between my fingers." - Sam Dellwotfire
"Someone once asked me what life before war was like, and truthfully, I've never known." - Hunter Creasey
"You spend your whole life under the shadow of death it starts to become you, and as you let the light it in, as you let your heart burst in seams of color and little figments of love and joy, that's when the shadow casts itself over you the longest. As soon as you start to live, death comes on by to greet you as if she were an old friend, and as I live through the essence of love and peace, I can see a smile filled with the lost lives of all whom ever walked greeting me on a road all too familiar." - Hunter Creasey
"I'm the mad man's greatest friend, but in the eyes of the sane, in the eyes of all whom stand against cruelty, I'm a weapon, an atomic bomb that'll level the city of peace to dust." - Moores Thomas
"It is in madness and grief we find who we really are. So who's to say humanity was supposed to live in peace? After all, even our mind tells us things we could never dream of with intrusive thoughts, and in the end some of us succumb to the darkness every single mind brews." - Moores Thomas
"You see, madness starts with a small seed the human race calls trouble, it comes in many different variants, some get in very small dosages all their lives. But mad men get a taste of trouble long before they know what the word means." - Moores Thomas
"The way I see love, it's an interesting sort of medicine. One moment it stitches together the loose threads of your heart, and in the very next it unravels you like a spool of thread." - Cornelius Combs
"I walked into the Church only to be spat out, falling down the sinner's steeple coughing up bloodied pieces of my faith." - Takizen Fruivein
"Challenging what I've become is a fools game, and my friend, I am no fool." - Allinza Harzvi
"Humanity is not inherently kind, everything we've seen, and everything we are, is proof of that testament." - Allinza Harzvi
"We are never in the same boat, we are in the same storm, facing life's darkness with different privilege's." - Caldvain Lucelo
"You know, someone once told me you have control over your own mind, but as it drifts away from me as smoke in the dying embers of a midnight wildfire, does that statement still hold true?" - Harvin Scoviney
"God does not help. He observes." - Victor Da Ville
“ You can't explain what evil means without mentioning the feared name of Cassidy Vanderberg. “ - Cassidy Vanderberg
“ I'm a hero, and I know, it's a heroes curse to go down in history, shooting her glory through the chamber of a revolver, leaving the world with the gunfire smoke of her gun, but so be it man, so fucking be it. “ - Miella Fang
“ Tragedy runs through my veins like the blood I bleed.” - Harkman Burtrow
“ You can run your hands through these cracked and yellowed pages, wondering when I lost my mind, but you won't find any answers in my chapters. “ - Mortelo Vonenwoft
“ ”You ever feel there’s jus’ this empty box where your heart’s supposed ta be? I've shoved all my monsters in this box, my addictions, my anxiety, the thoughts that don't go away. But sometimes, the box starts ta open, and I can't even push the door back, cause I'm too busy with this ghost followin' me like a yappin' chihuahua. “ - Isadore Rast
“ Everyone is always sayin' you're strong, for fightin' past that hurt, but am I? I didn't fight, I fuckin' stumbled, I fell, it wasn't just a battle, it was a god damn war I still wage. The gunfire echoes and cocaine ghosts will never leave me be, cause I made the mistake of losin' myself ta the bad side of life, and I just can't forgive myself for that kinda shit. “ - Isadore Rast
“ I'm not a recoverin' addict, I'm just a fuckin' ghost. “ - Carrigan Hopva
“ I met myself on a dead end street, she looked distraught, with chunks of hair missing, cigarette on her lip, trying to light a match in the rain, eyes troubled with memories of what would be. She told me to keep my enemies close, cause god damn, they were everywhere, but she never told me I'd be standin' in a house of mirrors. “ - Rain Morvosina
“ I tell myself, I could've done better, I could've saved the circus, but truthfully, not a single man can stop fate in its tracks, he would become another splatter on her railroad within a series of seconds and terrible events. “ - Bortosley Velltwo
“ I'm guilty ‘a first degree, of lil ol' me." - Howard Wraith
“ Oh mum if ya could see me now, sinnin' on the other side 'a paradise lookin' for reasons ta stain me teeth the color of me jacket. “ - Davy Blight
“ I ain't the poor lil' boy who shot at 'is brother with orange capped revolvers and plastic swords, mate, I'm the real fuckin' deal. This venom 'a trouble and sin flows like blood in me veins, corruptin' the essence 'a who I fuckin' was. “ - Davy Blight
“ I'm the darkness your mother says ta stray away from, the boogeyman ya're mum tells ya snatches away naughty boys and girls in the dead 'a night, and worst of all mate, I'm Lind fuckin' Blight, bastard son of the seas. “ - Lind Blight
“ I'm just old honey whiskey sitting on the shelf gathering dust and mildew, locked in this little cabin of darkness and decay, wondering why no one cares to pop open my cork and let this darkness and mold spill to the soil of a freshly dug grave. “ - Roxane Vanderberg
“ I met her in a garden 'a roses, and there she stood as the only thorn. “ - Kayella Wisp
“ I've gunned bad men down on the streets, cackling and sinful they died, cruel and wicked they lived. “ - Hoshino Akinori
“ I once went into an old confession booth, sins sat heavy at my shoulder, salvation far off as it always seemed to be, and as that preacher listened to my darkest secrets I was sure he would damn me. But he told me salvation is for all, and that God loves whosoever follows the path of the righteous. “ - Erika Vans
“ I used ta live with one foot in the grave, wondering when the hell I'd become my last name, but then I met a wise man in the woods and found myself once again. Sometimes, we're lost, and we don't even know it. So I think destiny sends us a Messiah to lead the way ta who we are, and as Pennington took my hand in the darkness, I knew I'd found who I am past all this trouble. “ - Alonzo Graves
“ I traverse this labyrinth of my heart and soul, trying to find myself in the midst of all this trouble, but these mirrors are starting to look like enemies, and this maze is starting to become a prison cell. “ - Andre Jollows
“ Deep in my soul is the sound of war calling me home, and death whispers in my bones that she wishes to hold me close as I fade gently into the stars, but I sigh strapping my boots on in the morning, putting this old gas mask on my face and facing another venomous day. For I am a curse, wondering where my blessings went." - Max Caldiph
“ If my heart were a painting, it would be a starless night sky, the trees wilted, stripped of their leaves standing as threadbare omens of the bones etched in darkness that hold me up and the roses would be black, decaying with some dead scent of mercy burning whosoever walks into this garden of death's nose. “ - Apollos Quinn
“ Who I am ain't even me, he's just someone I've been for too long.” - Drew Dreadful
“ I died halfway to Heaven and too close ta Hell. “ - Dylan Huffers
“ I was living a life of trouble and cigarette smoke, chasing lies as if I were just a harmless little kitten, batting my hands at another yarn ball, always wondering why it ran away from me, but as my mother held me in a gentle embrace and showed me the way to paradise, I found out that it's better to be you then somebody else. “ - Scottie Bloodvallo
“ My mama once told me sometimes you gotta fall and stumble to learn who you are, because it's as trouble and peace wage war that we discover who's side we're on, and as those old foes grabbed their rifles and loaded their cannons, I came to realize I never wanted trouble to become who I am. So I picked up my guns and fired a couple rounds of peace into my head. “ - Marty Thievekit
“ You wanna run with the wolves, but brother you're sparrin' with chihuahuas, ya wanna play with the big boys, but you're frolicking in a garden full of gnomes and fairies, you wanna go knuckle to knuckle with your demons, but brother you surround yourself in angels. Do you really expect to kill a man while you're swingin' plastic blades and firin' bullets from a cap gun? “ - Walton Burke
"The truth will always sound like a lie to he who doesn't want to admit he's wrong. “ - Stewart Astoria
“ I'm tied up and tangled in the webs of madness, cackling at the midnight sky as these bastards try to fire bullets of sanity my way. But god damn baby, I'm bullet proof. I take what I want when I want it, so as I slam these bullets of madness into the echoed chamber of my revolver and put a few holes in my mind do you think it'll be me seepin' through the corners of this old mental ward, or will the ground pool crimson with my sanity? Guess there's no way of knowin' til I pull this trigger, sanity and purity spilling like crimson ink in my mind. “ - Ares Malstone
“ Forevermore I shall stand as a threadbare omen of the unholiest parts of mankind, drifting away from myself like the wildfire smoke of a dying confession.” - Alastair Sambridge
“ My mother once stared me dead in the eye and said I was not so holy, one day I would sputter up all the pieces of me and succumb to the Devil inside, and I must say, the old wicked witch was right. My father told me I was just a sin, drifting forevermore into the midnight sky, and as I pulled the trigger upon a battlefield I came to realize fate vows for promises made by wicked people. So by God, I vow to die, I vow to choke on these holy pieces of me and sputter up my dying breath. “ - Alastair Sambridge
“ Who I am is such a far cry from who I was, if you looked at a photograph of me at ten years old you wouldn't recognize the eyes that smile, for as you look into the cracked lenses and into my eyes, it is not me you find. But rather, it is the insanity that swam in Calzell's eyes when I met him." - Ackilzo Thyme
“ My mother once told me that rage whispers into the ears of the broken that they deserve nothing more then this unsteady heart beat of broken bottles and cracked knuckles, but it's the ever smiling lip of peace that brings the sorrowed man back to himself. So I oughta wonder why peace keeps on scowlin' at me. “ - Varvaina Escobar
“ It seems it is the nature of humanity to point blame at those who are howling with regret, love beating empty in an open chest. “ - Sarkelus Johnson
“ Sometimes, life just fades before your eyes and ya don't have enough time to catch it, so you slowly drift away from it yearning for the gentle touch of death. But you know what? We all need a hero every once and awhile, and as Barbara lays her head against my chest, dancing her fingers across my shoulders and cheek, I think I damn well found my hero. “ -Rob Percstand
“ I don't wanna die with dreams, I wanna die with memories, man. “ - Revie Scollinew
"In the outback of Montana my tale began in crimson stained history. I look to my aunts and uncles and see murder deep inside of their hearts, but they should've thought twice before taking my heart in their rough hands, for there is something dark that's brewing inside of me, and if I were them, I would start looking underneath the bed for monsters." - Enoch Avoxin
"There's a certain truth, to madness." - Zachariah Rinderez
"Hold honor close to your heart and you'll end its beat." - McKormick McReavey
"You know, everybody says, this won't happen to me, I'm just your average everyday person, collecting my paycheck, paying my bills, living my day to day life just like everybody else. But what we seem to forget is that we're all normal people, we're all just a little bit average enough to stand out. And when these tragic things do happen to us, we stand in a stunned silence our whole world falling apart, and all we can utter is, "This can't be happening to me." - Ray Burzfoll
"If I could strip the emotion from my mind I fear I would do so in a heart beat." - Wyatt Demouchett
"Love comes and goes but power drifts on by and stays." - Dastallio Sanchez
"Darkness has intertwined itself within my heart sputtering the light from out my throat." - Cornelius Shmackelstein
“I am not myself, so what the fuck am I?" - Coraiza Scotchfuel
"Living in reality is the most cruel form of torture for a mad man." - Draven Scotchfuel
"It is as if she makes my black and white heart burst with some form of color it's never seen." - Armello Vanrick
"Perhaps it was always a mirror hiding inside of my closet." - Julie Forkroad
"The world went dark before it fell, we were just playing a waiting game." - Brooke Bergmeir
"I've got more fighting days left than you have years." - Maximo Guanch
"If everything exists, nothing does, really." - Arthur Wellburn
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February 19, 2021: The Phantom of the Opera (2004) (Part 1)
I love musicals.
Hands down, when talking cinematic adaptations of musicals, my favorite is Little Shop of Horrors. I’ve seen it MANY times, and will see it many, MANY more. And I’m not the only one. I mean, obviously, but in this case, I’m referring to my girlfriend. She’s chosen to represent herself with a GIF from her favorite musical, Hairspray. So, here she is:
Ravishing. Now, because it’s currently our anniversary, I let her pick today’s movie from my list. And so, she chose a musical that neither she nor I have seen: 2004′s The Phantom of the Opera. And some of you may now be saying, “What, this guy said he liked movie musicals, and he hasn’t seen TPotS? That’s like saying you haven’t seen Grease, or Singin’’ in the Rain, or, PFFT, West Side Story!”
...About that...
Yeah, yeah, I know! It’s insane, and I’m a hypocrite. I’ll be getting to the rest of those eventually, and one of them’ll be coming in the next couple of days, I promise. You can probably guess which one. Anyway, fact of the matter is that we’re gonna watch it tonight, and I’m looking forward to it.
However, there’s another factor to this, and that’s the fact that this film...doesn’t have the best reputation amongst fans of the original musical. And, yeah, this should ideally be the Michael Crawford version, but the Butler version is the one I have access to, so we’re going for it. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!
Recap (1/2)
Paris, 1919, back when the whole city was in black-and-white for a year. They lost the budget for color after World War I. Anyway, at an old opera house, an auction is taking place, and items found within the theater are for sale. One of these is a music box with a monkey on it, an item which sponsors a bidding war between an older woman, and an older man in a wheelchair. I’m sure we’ll find out who they are eventually.
Anyway, a broken chandelier is also up for option, and was involved in the mysterious disaster of the “Phantom of the Opera” fiasco. They turn it on with electric light, and as they raise it to the ceiling, the organist goes fuckin’ NUTS. The song’s so loud that it REVERSES TIME, and we’re now in color, in the year 1870 at the same opera house.
The theatre, managed by the soon-to-retire Monsieur Lefèvre (James Fleet), has just been purchased by Richard Firmin (Ciaran Hinds) and Gilles André (Simon Callow), who are there to observe. On stage, a rehearsal for the opera Hannibal is taking place, and the costume’s are already...like, a LOT, not gonna lie. The headliner for the show is soprano (and drama queen supreme) Carlotta Giudicelli (Minnie Driver), and is being funded by patron Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny (Patrick Wilson).
The background dancers are instructed by Madame Giry (Miranda Richardson), and include her daughter, Meg (Jennifer Ellison), and her adopted daughter, Christine Daaé (Emmy Rossum). As the rehearsal takes place, an accident happens on stage, almost injuring Carlotta. Enraged, she leaves, and refuses to perform.
Meanwhile, Madame Giry finds a letter from the Phantom, who demands his normal monthly salary of 20,000 francs, as for Box 5 to be left open. While the new owners think that this is ridiculous, they also note that it’s pointless without a lead singer for their show.
However, Christine is volunteered, and shows that she is indeed a talented singer. The show goes on, and Christine is a smash, much to Carlotta’s dismay. At this point, Raoul also discovers that this is his long lost childhood friend (and possibly long lost love) Christine, which she also noticed earlier.
But this is because of a mysterious teacher, who sings to her from the walls of the theatre. Meg comes in to congratulate her (through song), and asks who her tutor is. Meg responds...in song (”Angel of Music”).
Afterwards, Madame Giry also congratulates her, and tells her that the Phantom is pleased with her. Right after, Raoul also pays her a visit, and the two reconnect on shared memories of times in an attic in the summer. She tells Raoul that she is visited by an Angel of Music, and cannot go to the dinner that night with him. And the Phantom agrees, as he locks Christine in her room. YIKES.
And as literally every person in the theatre except Christine leaves, the Phantom serenades her, angered by Raoul’s presence, and Christine’s potential dalliance with him (”Mirror”). And through the mirror, he takes her to a mysterious crypt beneath the theatre. And as they sing their strange duet in the form of the title song (”The Phantom of the Opera”)...I try to resist talking about Gerard Butler until later. And it’s hard. It’s SO hard, guys.
But, OK, he takes her away on a...sewer horse...how the FUCK did he get that horse down there? And wait, WAIT, does he put her on that horse to walk her, like, 20 feet to the gondola? Like...WHY DO YOU HAVE THE HORSE? That is...monumentally wasteful. Where do you keep the horse? Does he feed the horse? How much? How often? With what? Does the horse eat the sewer rats? Is there naturally growing sewer hay? Does the Phantom’s salary go towards buying food for the horse, or buying new horses when the original ones DIE OF STARVATION - WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THIS HORSE?!?!? WHOMSTVE THE FUCK
And yes, I love this fuckin’ song (not the singers, but we’ll get there), but this is distracting me alongside the statues of naked men in the sewer, because...well, Joel Schumacher. What can I say, it’s kind of his aesthetic. Anyway, we get officially introduced to the Phantom of the Opera (Gerard Butler), a very handsome-looking man who likes wearing a half-mask.
I say handsome, because the Phantom in this movie, looks...fine. HE LOOKS OK. HE LOOKS LIKE A DUDE WEARING A MASK. What, did somebody throw a hot candle at his face once, and he freaked out over it and ran into the sewers forever...WITH A HORSE? NOT OVER THE HORSE SHIT.
Look, the Phantom is supposed to be HIDEOUSLY scarred. Famously, in one of the film adaptations of Phantom, actor Lon Chaney Jr. purposely distorted his own face using adhesive face in order to play the role of the hideously disfigured character. Now, other versions have just given him severe, and I mean SEVERE burn scars. But behind the mask, Butler looks...fine. HE LOOKS FINE GODDAMMIT. He looks like he’s wearing the mask because it looks edgy and shit.
But OK, what’s happening in the movie? Oh, right, more serenading (”Music of the Night”), with another song that I like quite a bit. This and the previous song were songs Id heard before, and that I’d already had on my playlist. They’re great, what can I say? Now is Butler doing it justice? Ehhhhhhh, we’ll talk about that in the Review.
During this song he kinda seduces her, or attempts to, and also shows her a wedding dress. She sees herself in it and IMMEDIATELY faints, Jesus! Curtain falls on Christine while she’s in a bed, and we go back to her room, where Meg is looking for her. She finds the mirror, and is about to go back there, but her mother finds and stops her.
Meanwhile, stagehand Joseph Buquet (Kevin McNally) tells the chorus girls of the legend of the Phantom, and describes a physical description that doesn’t match him...even a little. We cut back to Christine, who wakes up in what my girlfriend refers to as a “bomb-ass HQ.” Which is fair, let’s be honest. Anyway, she heads over and tries to unmask her new masked lover (?).
He’s not the biggest fan of this, and he emos all over the screen (”Stranger Than You Dreamt It”). And then, as he puts his mask on, we suddenly (and I mean suddenly) jump to 1919, where the old woman, Madame Giry, bids farewell to...wait, that’s Raoul? HOW DOES HE LOOK SO MUCH OLDER THAN HER, WHAT???
Back in the past, inexplicably, the theatre owners and manager sing about the theatre and the Phantom’s demands ("Notes..."), and are soon joined by Raoul, who brings them a separate note, saying not to look for Christina any further. THEN, Carlotta joins them, delivering a letter of her own from the Phantom, warning her not to return to the theatre.
In his letters, he details how his theatre is to be run, threatening a disaster if Christine is not cast in the lead role, and if Carlotta is not cast in a silent role. However, the theatre owners and Carlotta refuse to obey, and Carlotta is cast in the role, as the owners try to appease her (”Prima Donna”).
That night, during a performance of Il Muto, Carlotta’s singing the lead role. Additionally, Box Five is full, and the Phantom is PISSED. So, like a Phantom do, it’s time for some good old fashioned petty revenge! He switches her throat spray, causing her to lose her voice on stage, and causing the audience to laugh when the show ends abruptly. They quickly and publicly recast the role, giving it to Christine instead. Well, mission accomplished by the Phantom! Guess we’re good without retribution. And then he hangs the stagehand.
Well...fuck, man. Realizing that the Phantom is EXTREMELY dangerous, Christine goes to save Raoul, who she...is in a relationship with now? Wait...wait, hold up, the fuck did I miss? I mean, yeah, he probably is gonna kill Raoul, but there is, like, NO lead-up to their connection before this point.
Anyway, as Christine explains that there is a Phantom when Raoul says he doesn’t exist...wait, WHAT? MOTHER FUCKER BUQUET JUST NOT MURDERED IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY WHAT IN THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN????? YOU LITERALLY HEARD THE...you know what? Break. BREAK. This is...this one’s tough.
See you in Part 2!
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What to do after death; Vampirism
Preface -
I feel the name says it all.
But, I will elaborate anyhow.
I don’t intend on becoming a Vampire, at all. It’s a raw deal and one-way passage into a hell of my own making.
I suspect should I actively pursue becoming a Vampire I will lose my soul to damnation. Vampire’s are often the results of the foulest of magic and consorting with satanic entities with depraved offerings or just as often the results of those black souled individuals who find happiness in the torment of others.
If I am not planning on becoming a Vampire, why I am I making this list?
Easy, it pays to be prepared. Just because I don’t seek undeath doesn’t protect me from being turned against my will. I am of the belief, once you have become a Vampire against your will you die and lose your soul, leaving a husk behind. A husk that has all your memories, personality, and desires, but none of the restraint, humanity or compassion. A sociopath with supernatural powers and a need for life essence of others to maintain my own parasitic existence.
I am making the list to give myself direction after death so as to prevent as much suffering as I can, and if possible, try and help humanity grow.
I can only hope my husk listens to my will.
My family is well armed otherwise, they will do what must be done, as I would do for them.
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The List
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Step One - Leave home, let’s not take any chances hurting my loved ones, or former loved ones, I owe them that much.
a) Construct a note though, tell them all how much they meant to me and why I am leaving, be through and leave nothing out, but don’t tell them where I am headed. Leave the code-word I have with our elder brother so he understands and tell him he’s free to what I leave behind.
b) Make a pack, get one of our knives in there and get a gun. Get some blankets so I can cover-up during the day, actually many blankets and some stones so that they’ll be weighted down. This is a temporary solution however.
c) Empty my bank account as much as possible. Cash and coin will be more beneficial if I’m going off the grid.
d) Leave town.
Step Two - Head north and head to a bigger city
a) Buy a sleeping bag and tent at the closest opportunity.
b) Keep an ear to the ground, find out who can go missing and people would be thankful that their gone. Pick my targets carefully, never more than one person at a time and always when their not expecting it, I’m a predator I should act like it. I might have supernatural powers, but I can’t be prepared for everything and people will know my weakness if I get found out.
c) Aim for the scum of the earth, get rid of them, but not until I have conclusive evidence. But, when I do have it, it’s feeding time, make sure to take their valuables, will need it for future plans.
d) Do that for about a month and move on, can’t stay anywhere for too long. But, before we leave buy a couple books on architecture, vampires, morals and ethics, stone-working, physics, building ect. We’re going to need it.
e) Find out if I can sustain our-self off animal blood.
Step Three - Rinse and Repeat. Go from city to city in our state till I’ve cleaned out what I can. Hopefully I’ll have a duffel-bag of money and valuables, along with those books.
a) Study those books. Find out what kind of vampire I am, make sure I learn about building castles.
b) Take some time to practice building.
c) Practice hunting; Hunt some animals to drink their blood if that helps, practice skinning and chopping up the parts. Donate the meat if I can, or leave at a poor home, they probably won’t be able to afford throwing it away.
d) Learn about interior decoration.
e) Get some better guns, drop off the gun we borrowed from our family along with a chunk of changes, leave them another note that we’re doing fine.
Step Four - Time to move. By the time I’ve hit this step I should have hit all the large towns, which depending we’re counting above or below ten thousand as a big town could take us from anywhere three years to around four if I cut off at nine thousand in population for a big town. It’s hard to say how much money I’ll have at this point, but It must be at least ten thousand dollars at a minimum if I’ve spent all my time eating, murdering, and robbing scum of the earth at least once a month for three to four years.
a) Head north. I need to get to Detroit. That place is so crime ridden no will notice a vampire. If there already vampires there leave, go find another crime-ridden hell-hole. I assume vampires get stronger, or at least craftier with age, I am not fucking with any old monsters.
b) On the way there repeat the Step three on any big cities on the way there, cover my tracks.
c) Make sure to pawn off what I can. Invest in urban camo and a bullet-resistant vest.
d) Keep practicing stone masonry, and improve my gun skills. I don’t need to chase anyone down if they can run, plus I can suck the blood from the wounds, it’ll be like a water fountain.
e) Read that book on physics and other science books, I am playing the long game, look into magic too. Nothing is better than magic or science than knowing the rules to both. Don’t fuck with demon’s though.
Step Five - Settle down for a while and then move again, once I get to my crime-ridden hellhole of my choice take some time to start eliminating the seedy elements. If not, start going for the low hanging fruit, I can’t help everybody, but I can help somebody.
a) Find some random kid and become their guardian, a great way to kill time probably.
ai.) By guardian, I don’t mean parent, I’m talking more guardian spirit. A vampire rasing a child is a recipe for disaster.
aii.) Don’t get too attached though, after their in a good place leave. I’m not doing it for good, I’m doing it to maintain a little humanity.
b) By now I should have enough to fund a new identity and since I now live in a corrupt hell-hole it should be easy to enter the system. If I don’t have enough money, then attain it. Don’t try and intimidate anybody just yet me, I don’t have enough influence yet and it’ll just end up screwing me over.
c) Buy an actually house, fake a life for about ten years, then move to another corrupt hell-hole. Start saving valuable, no, start a war found, we’re going to need it.
Step Six - Start prepping for the End. Humanity has conflict in it’s blood, it’s only a matter of time before we go nuclear. Use the funds we have to buy some land in the mountains. Use the stone masonry skills and architect skills I’ve attained over the last several decades to build a fortified castle with space age materials.
a) Create a underground vault for my mortals.
b) Install anti-air defenses, install ground defences, booby-trap my land.
c) Creating a sustainable area for farming if possible, if not work on making sustainable green houses.
d) Start preserving all of human history, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Movies, games, books, porn, all of it. It needs to be preserves. Put it all in the vault. Record all the science, by hand if neccasary.
e) Start stealing relics so that they can be preserved by me. I am definitely going Trazyn the Infinite.
f) Start recruiting people for my cause, screen each and every one.
g) Put my room at the top of the mountain with as long stair case as possible, If these fuckers want to kill me while I sleep I want them to have leg cramps while they do it. Also put booby trap my coffin room.
Step Seven - Rebuilding Society or keep playing the waiting game. If the world has torn itself apart, I will then do what I feel is the best choice. Create bio-augmented techno-knights, or not.
a) Hopefully decades of research on physics, matter, and engineering will allow me to create powered armor knights, but if not, just keep researching.
b) Make a secret castle deeper into the mountains no one else can reach without significant resources, or supernatural abilities. Start moving my lab, my vault, my copies of human history and media, plus my stored blood there.
c) When I finally succeed leave my first castle to my servants and teach them what I have to offer, leave them the blue prints for becoming techno-knights and leave. I no longer have a place among men or their future, I will merely safeguard the past and record it.
d) Go to my new castle and spend eternity studies reality and building more castles.
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Afterword:
The probability of me becoming a vampire is close to zero, and the idea of my soul-less husk following is these steps is even less, but should it work it will have been worth it.
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Big Jim’s Big Secret (Short Story)
When Big Jim Anderson finally uttered his final breath, well, King’s Creek had lost a true legend. That son of a bitch was renowned for his ability to drink anybody under the bar. No shit. And when Big Jim started tossing back cold brew, there was no way of knowing whether you would get the friendly old man or the cocksucker who loved to tease. Regardless, it was all in good fun.
I swear to god, there had been this one occasion when these degenerate punk rockers rolling on through. Apparently, they had a show that night in the valley, their name was “The Shit Kickers” but they pulled into town and made a short pit stop off at Mitch’s Pub to wet their palate. Clarissa had been tending the bar when the Mohawk weirdo began making a ruckus.
These punk rockers just love to get under the skin of working-class folk in the Bible Belt, and so there he was, spouting off obscenities and blasphemy for shock value. The spectacle was nothing more than the run of the mill asinine, juvenile behavior.
Big Jim heard the whole thing but felt that this wast his battle. So he ignored the punkers the best he could, but throughout the night they continued to get louder, drunker and more obnoxious. Enough was enough.
“I’m going to ask you boys to bring it down a notch or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Clarissa spoke loud and clear so that there was no mistaking anything.
“Fuck you, redneck slut.” the one with four lips rings responded before pouring his beer all over the floor. “You better clean that up less you want a lawsuit.”
This made Big Jim get all crazy. That big fucker rose from his barstool, picked it up in a calloused mitt and began to bash one of those jokers in the back of the dome. The Punker went down like a sack of horse shit, I mean knocked out cold. Another pulled out a switchblade.
“Oh, so you want to play games.”
Big Jim retrieved his large sheathed blade. The sight of this menacing bastard was sufficient enough to make a Civil War veteran shit his knickers and piss all over himself. That fellow knew full well that he was fucked. Luckily so did Dennis Lee, who quietly got up and bolted shut the bar entrance, ominously flipping the sign around, letting patrons know that they were closed.
“Big Jim, carve this fucker up real nice.”
And he did, ramming that mean steel blade right into the city boy’s esophagus. He was deceased before he knew it. Big Jim then made his way over to the unconscious man, yanked his head up by his hair and slashed him ear to ear. That night Clarissa, Dennis, and Big Jim would haul those bodies to Robert Turner’s farm to get rid of them.
Yeah, Big Jim was no joke and when he passed from a heart attack, well it just brought every eye in town to tears. The funeral was held at his house. Understandably, the better part of the town showed up to pay their respect and all were in the bark yard where the service was being held. That is, except for Big Jim’s grandson Waylon. That’s because he had snuck off to the basement.
Big Jim had a heart, and he was an open book, more or less, that is except for his private room in the basement. This room is where he spent a considerable amount of time and when he was in the basement, the old man was not to be disturbed.
The mystery of that room captivated the young boy’s mind. What was in that room? All sorts of scenarios went through the kid’s head. Hell, at one time he thought that his grandpa had a space alien locked up in there. I’m serious, that’s how secretive he was about how he spent his time.
Waylon knew that the room was fastened by a simple padlock and luckily for him he knew just where to get a pair of bolt cutters, which he snuck over there and hid in the bushes close by. As he stood in front of that ominous door all sorts of shit went through Waylon’s twelve-year-old head but he knew that this was his only chance he’d get.
The bolt cutters worked like expected, but Waylon froze for a moment. What if something so awful was being imprisoned behind this door that his grandfather took it upon himself to shield his family from it? And what if, by opening this door, that evil were to escape and wreak havoc? There was no point of contemplating at this point. The lock was busted and his hand was already on the door knob.
Now, before we proceed any further with this story, there is something we should address about Big Jim. His wife was Bridgette and in her day she was hell on wheels. As Big Jim told the story, he fell in love one night way back when they were both in their early twenties. Brigette was a Tom Boy and boy did she love to fight men. I mean, she was ruthless, and she had a particular distaste for pedophiles and rapists. That year Frank Reed had been arrested for molesting a sixteen-year-old girl, but since we all know that the court system is a joke, he got off on a technicality. Now Brigette never would admit to it for obvious reasons, but it is presumed to be true that she went to Frank’s house one night in the summer and cut his dick off. Frank lived, but she took the dick with her and fed it to her dog. The police never could get an answer out of that man as to who done it but when Big Jim caught wind of what Brigette had done he knew that this was the woman for him.
Brigette saw Big Jim as a wildcard with a heart, and that appealed to her. So when he announced that he was going to have a secret space for himself many years ago, she asked no questions. She trusted her husband was doing nothing more than blowing off steam, probably drinking beers and tinkering with the model cars he was obsessed with making.
Despite all the young Waylon’s planning, he did not anticipate Brigette’s keen sense of awareness. So when she saw her son’s kid sneak back into the house, she knew damn well what he was about to do. For fuck’s sake, everyone in town knew about his secret room and we all wondered what was in it. Brigette didn’t care that her husband was dead, she intended to keep the promise she made to him years earlier, to never step foot in that room. She’d be damned if she was going to let some snot-nosed brat disrespect her deceased husband.
By the time she found an opportunity to slip away unnoticed, she took it. Once in the house she moved quickly to the basement but when she got there, it was too late. The door was open, and the boy had disrespected a dead man’s wishes.
“Now you really did it Waylon.”
He seemed unfazed by her voice. The boy wasn’t even startled by the unexpected company, he was too focused on what he saw. As Brigette descended the stairs her anger turned to curiosity. What was in that room to steal her grandson’s attention so much that he couldn’t even hear the ass whooping he was going to get when she told his father? When she saw the tears in his eyes her curiosity turned to concern.
“Waylon?” she called out. He turned his head toward her and she saw trauma. It was that same look Frank had on him when she sliced off his willy.
“Grandma, I’m sorry, but I had to know.”
“Well, you went on and opened it. So what’s in there that has you so upset?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Boy, you better tell me.” Anger was returning, but when she got to the doorframe she too froze. “Holy shit.”
Big Jim’s secret room was a secret no more, and what the two of them saw was nothing short of disturbings. The room contained a shrine of sorts. Every inch of wall space was covered in Polaroid pictures, and in those pictures were children. In some pictures she could see parts of Big Jim which she identified by his chest tattoo, which was of a confederate flag. In all the pictures, the kids are naked, some crying. As horrifying as these were, they didn’t compare to the ones of her husband performing various sexual acts. Big Jim was a pedophile.
How does one recover from such revelations? She knew that Waylon couldn’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut and once word go out that she was married to a kid diddler, well, she couldn’t bear the embarrassment.
“Waylon. I want you to go back to the funeral. Say nothing.”
The poor kid was so shocked that he obeyed without so much as a whimper, making his way back like a soldier suffering from shell shock. Once alone Brigette dropped the touch act and began sobbing. Her entire life with Big Jim was a disgusting lie. She slept in the same bed with this filthy monster. There was no stopping this. Word was sure to spread but what she can do is make certain that nobody ever sees the contents of that room.
After getting back her composure, Brigette made her way to the garage where she retrieved two cans of gasoline. With a broken heart, she poured it all over that room. Every inch was dripping with gasoline. Once both cans were empty, she grabbed a box of matches from the kitchen. Without hesitation, she struck a match and tossed it into the room.
Brigette stood there, watching the room burn with all its contents until she no longer could stand the heat. As she made her way back to the funeral, the flames began to spread to the rest of the house.
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