#always happy to talk about these weirdo dumbass books (affectionate)

[cosmoshunger]

HEY. help me. can you describe aftg to me with as little spoilers as possible

The main character is a boy on the run called Neil Josten. He gets an offer to join a famous collegiate sports team called the Palmetto State Foxes and he can’t resist accepting even though he knows the fame will be dangerous for him. (The sport in question is a made-up sport called exy. It’s explained just enough that you can follow along the matches and get excited about strategy, but since the sport kind of takes a back seat to the other stuff going on, it doesn’t spend too much time going through rules and stuff.) The Foxes are infamous because they’re a kind of rehabilitation team - the coach recruits players from difficult backgrounds to give them a second chance through exy. Because of this the characters are all damaged people who do shitty things, and as they delve into the backstories of various team members MANY TRIGGER WARNINGS APPLY. In the vaguest way so as not to spoil anything, the main conflict is that the world of exy has…a lot of connections to Neil’s life before he went on the run, which puts him even more at risk.

Essentially it’s this messy combination of sports and thriller and messed up found family that somehow works just enough to keep you really invested. It’s not perfect and it has more than its fair share of problematic elements, so you kind of have to go into it with as few expectations as possible and just sort of go along with it until it clicks. Boy is it fun though.

[romaniassexdungeon]

Shattered Romanticism of a God - chapter 9

Pairings: SuFin, NedDen,

Vidar - Norway // Tolli - Iceland // Luca - Luxembourg // Adriaan - Netherlands // Gunner - Denmark

Sorry this is late. I'm a slow dumbass. I would like to try to keep this updated regularly, though, as it has a whole load of support and I feel bed when I can't update due to being a sleepy bitch. There's some dumb jokes in here, but no funny business. Hope you enjoy.

Read on AO3

Vidar would make a good manager.

He was cunning, ruthless and incredibly intelligent, and the music industry had no idea of the storm that was coming. He could and would calculate his way to success, using whoever he needed, and dumping them in the gutter when they’d outlived their use. He was a filthy, greedy man who would probably meet his end at the guillotine, but at least he’d be swimming in money and power until the end. He would drag the Screaming Pagans to the top, or burn everything trying.

At least, that was what Gunner said in his tipsy pre-drinks speech.

He slapped his cousin on the shoulder, laughing heartily as he pulled him into a one-armed hug. “We’ll be getting bookings every week now!”

“No pressure then,” muttered Tolli, standing next to Tino.

The Screaming Pagans, Tino, and Tolli were crowded in Berwald and Gunner’s main room, all a couple of glasses of wine into what promised to be a night of drinking. And dancing. And acting like idiots.

Eduard, for some reason, had turned down his own invitation. Something about not wanting to babysit drunk Tino, and having a date of his own. Unfortunately, he’d refused to say more on the subject. No matter how much Tino asked and pleaded and teased about his date actually being his hand.

For the first time ever, Eduard hadn’t risen to the bait, so Tino had to suspect he really did have a date. Well, good for Eduard! Internet explorer-chan body pillow or real woman, it was an improvement.

He wasn’t a big clubbing guy, anyway. But, neither was Berwald, now that he thought about it. Was he dreading it? Tino shuffled over to him and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Berwald almost smiled back.

“Trinity is the best place in town,” Gunner insisted, lining them all up outside the club of his choice.

“That’s it, you’re officially old,” Tolli rolled his eyes, “to anyone born this century, it’s Club Galaxy. They’re the best, and they’re a student bar so drinks are cheaper. Also it’s my uni bar so I get things for extra cheap.”

“You go there too?” asked Luca, beaming like he'd found a new ally.

“Their music’s too loud,” Gunner whined, proving Tolli’s point. “You can’t talk to people! And their beer's bad.”

“Drink vodka, then,” said Vidar, “don’t be a pussy.”

“No thanks. I don’t like the taste.”

“Costs more to get blackout drunk.”

“What makes you think that’s what I want? Maybe I just want a couple beers and a relax?”

Vidar flicked him on the ear affectionately. “Because I know you.”

“I’m not gonna get stupid. This time. Maybe. You’re no fun.”

“Don’t bully him,” Gilbert whined, “just cause we’re old, doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

“I’ve felt old since 17,” Tino commented, only within earshot to Berwald. “Or at least, my back does.”

Berwald nodded in agreement.

“You’re all old and embarrassing,” muttered Tolli. "Why do I spend time with you?"

Vidar shrugged. "Can't make friends your own age?"

“I’m cool,” Gunner pouted, “I smoke and fuck!”

“I gave you one toke and you almost choked, cried, then asked to go to the hospital,” said Adriaan, raising his eyebrow.

“No comeback for the fucking thing, I see.” Gunner flicked his nose, “also you charged for every puff. You're literally the worst.”

“I refuse to believe you fuck,” said Vidar, “not having a proper job really leaves you swimming in cock, especially when you take them home and show them your Lego model collection.”

“Did I fucking ask? I have a real job, and some people still have a childish side. Surely your girlfriend isn’t completely boring, right? She gotta have a childish side.”

“Nope.”

“Really? Not even a little?”

“She likes gross, sexual jokes, like some 12 year old, but generally no.”

Gunner blinked. “Huh. Wasn’t expecting that. Does she collect stuff? Everyone collects stuff, right? You know, I really do think she's a robot.”

“Ornamental knives.”

“Bruh, that’s so hot. Does she ever… use them? On you?”

Vidar looked at him. “I’m not answering that.”

“Are we talking about kinks?” asked Tino excitedly.

Gilbert winced. “And other things not beneficial to my relationship with the lord.”

“I wanna talk about kinks too!” Luca clapped his hands excitedly.

“Like the person saying your name?” suggested Tolli, to Vidar’s horror.

“You’re way too young to-”

“I’m eighteen, shitlips, I’ll talk all I want.”

“I used to be into the name thing,” Gilbert commented, “I dunno, it seemed nice, like your own hypeman. Except then the last 8 people said my name was too dumb to shout out in a sexy way.”

Gunner raised an eyebrow. “And by 8 people, you mean…”

“Two. But it really, really hurt my feelings.”

Tino burst out laughing. “Oooh, my turn!”

“No!” Vidar covered his mouth, “we haven’t got all night.”

Tino wondered if it was his imagination, or if Berwald looked a little disappointed at that. Did he want to know what Tino was into? Tino wanted to know what he was into, even if it was just holding hands under the moonlight, he’d be happy to indulge.

Though if Berwald was into feet, Tino was telling him to fuck off right now. Some weirdo kept sending him emails asking for feet pics and it honestly unnerved the hell outta him. He hoped it was just Vidar playing a prank on him.

Email weirdo was offering 1100 krona, though. Seemed like easy money, if Tino was 20% poorer and had 5% less dignity.

Why did his mind go to these places?

And now he’d missed whatever it was Luca had said to make everyone else start protesting and kinkshaming in horror.

“I just like the mask! And the lead!” Luca was defending, “I don’t actually want to be a dog!”

“Haha! Furry!” Gunner pointed and laughed at him. Adriaan bristled.

“What’s wrong with that?”

Gunner looked at him. “You made your brother a furry, didn’t you?”

“Good taste runs in the family.”

“I have never seen a fursona’s colour scheme that could be described as ‘good taste’.”

Adriaan reeled like Gunner had just punched him in the face. Luca looked like he was about to faint.

“Gunner,” began Tino, “how would you know unless you’ve seen multiple fursonas? Are you involved in the community?”

“You’re banned from writing about us, Väinämöinen. Not if you’re gonna be exposing us like that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a furry,” said Tolli, “except to everyone who picked on me in high school apparently.”

“Because you wore your fursuit to school every day,” Vidar pointed out. “And you were fourteen and refused to wear deoderant.”

“So you’re the guy who gives us all a bad name?” asked Luca. “Tolli!”

“I was a different person then!”

“Am I the only person in the band who isn’t a furry?” asked Gilbert.

“M’not a furry,” Berwald mumbled.

“I’m not in the band,” added Tolli.

“Also I’ve rped with your brother on furaffinity,” said Adriaan, "Lud's fursona is a German shepherd into BDSM."

Gilbert started banging his head against the wall. “I really wish we were inside and I didn’t have to listen to you people.”

“The music isn’t as loud, though,” Tolli pointed out, “you could still hear us.”

“It’s loud enough for me to escape!”

“Okay, just be on your best behaviour,” said Gunner, “we’re advertising the Screaming Pagans too, remember.”

“That why you’re all wearing band t shirts?” asked Tino, wishing he’d worn his, too, even if he wasn't a band member. He liked fitting in, which was a little tricky, given how weird he was.

“Yeah, it was Vidar’s idea,” Gunner affectionately punched his cousin on the arm.

“Even though no one can read the band name because it looks like a pile of twigs?”

All five members of the Screaming Pagans, and new manager Vidar, looked down at their shirts in disappointment. Berwald looked so heartbroken Tino wished he’d said nothing.

“Hey, we’re in,” Luca pulled Tolli forward, striding past the bouncer with a sweet smile. After getting his hand stamped, Tino followed, holding Berwald’s arm when he started looking nervous. Maybe it was growing up with Eduard, but he tended to feel protective of introvert friends, even though he was something of an introvert himself. Dad instincts, or something.

He only had vague memories of Trinity, but the glowing purple lights did seem familiar. He’d thrown up in the bathroom here. Luca ran over to the bar to order shots, knocking them down with absolute glee, and Tino decided to join him. Berwald, like his cousin, tended to opt for beer, ordering one and sitting at a table in the corner. Tino and Vidar ended up joining him for an hour or so, getting progressively more drunk and watching their friends be stupid.

“Since when were those two together?” asked Tino, watching Gunner hump Adriaan like an overly excitable dog. Adriaan, for his part, actually seemed to be enjoying it, and kissed his cheek with more affection than Tino had ever seen him use, even with his family.

Berwald shrugged, staring at the two in what must pass for bewilderment with his face.

“You didn’t know?” asked Tino.

“Nah. S’plains a lot, though.”

“Like why Gunner’s always at his place?”

Berwald grunted.

“Do you think they’re good together?”

He shrugged. “Guess. Been best friends forever.”

“I don’t know how they put up with each other,” added Vidar, “but they do.”

“I think they’re sweet.” Tino watched Adriaan try to pick Gunner off the ground, then promptly give up and let him carry on trying to do the worm. It was more like a worm dipped in bleach, from what Tino could see, but at least it was less horrifying than what he’d been doing before.

When he finally looked away, Gunner had been doing the macarena to euphoria.

“Wanna dance?” he asked Berwald, who squirmed.

“Hey, you’re probably not as bad as me,” he reassured him, “come on. Just for a bit. One song, then we’ll sit back down.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Berwald nodded and let Tino lead him to the dance floor. He swayed awkwardly to the music, still holding Tino’s hands as he danced wildly out of tune, shaking his cheeks like a baby in a lion’s mouth. He cared little for those around him, and how many people were within range of his iron hips.

The terrible dancing did seem to amuse Berwald, but Tino could tell the blaring music was overwhelming him. He dropped it low, touched his face gently and took his hand, leading him outside for a moment. Out in the crisp, night air, Berwald looked a lot happier.

“Want to stay out here for a bit?” asked Tino, face softening. Berwald nodded, but he still looked uneasy.

“Want to stay out here forever?” he added gently, “or go home and drink instead?”

Berwald nodded again, significantly more enthusiastic. Tino rubbed his back until he was ready to make a move, giving Vidar a quick text to explain the situation. Then, he lead Berwald down the street.

“Want more beer?” he asked once they came across a corner shop. Tino picked a bottle of vodka for himself. A small one, so he wouldn’t get too stupid. And maybe seduce Berwald in a normal, acceptable manner. Maybe he’d think Tino was cute and smart and handsome and someone definitely worth dating. Except he wasn't cute! What was he saying?

Berwald nodded awkwardly, and Tino grabbed a six pack he’d seen him drink before. Not that he was paying attention to Berwald’s every preference and mood, despite the lack of facial cues to help with that.

Berwald insisted on paying, even though Tino’s drink was more expensive. He explained he and Gunner had gotten new jobs, just to tide them over and keep them housed until the band took off. Tino’s heart ached at the thought of them not being able to live their dreams yet; they had the talent, they just needed the chance.

Maybe Vidar really could get them there.

They had to be careful, as they stumbled through the streets - drinking and singing out of tune - that they didn’t run into any police officers who would take their alcohol. And maybe fine them if they were feeling particularly mean.

“Have you ever tho- thought about writing a song about corp- corp. Rich companies. And rich people.”

Berwald watched him try and get his sentence out in amusement. Tino, meanwhile, stepped onto a low wall to try and be eye-level with the man. He still wasn’t.

Berwald nodded. “Migh’ do. Call 'em out fer being evil.”

“Yeah, of course.” He stumbled, and Berwald steadied him, “just throwing out ideas. You see what sticks.”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

“What are you working on? Song-wise.” He wished Berwald would work on him. What did that even mean?

“Tryna find an angle,” he shrugged, “like, somethin’ unique.”

“Like the viking stuff?”

Berwald nodded. “Somethin’ else too. Lotta bands do the viking stuff.”

Tino nodded and thought for a while. “Right. Something to set you apart from other indie bands... Huh, you like Eurovision?”

“Course I do. M’Swedish.”

“What about metal covers of Eurovision songs? But, like, the weird ones. Who wouldn’t want a metal cover of dancing lasha tumbai?”

Berwald snorted. “Serious ‘nes too. Heroes m’tal version? Wanna do it.”

“Can I be the tiny LED boy who flies off with a balloon?” asked Tino.

“Mm! Please!”

“Although, as much as I love this idea, you know what’s better than metal covers of Eurovision?”

“Hm?”

“Actually sending metal songs to Eurovision.”

Berwald nodded. “Hung’ry’s got the right idea.”

“Hey! We did it first!”

He smirked. “They did it better.”

“You’ve literally covered Lordi! You ever covered AWS?”

“Dun member,” he mumbled childishly. Jokingly. Bastard.

“I was there. It was the first time I saw you perform?”

“Can’t recall.”

“It was night of the loving dead !”

“ Raise h’ll in heaven , actually.”

“How wasted was I? Also ha! You admitted it!”

Berwald gave a hum. He might’ve been a little too drunk. “M’ybe so. Hey, Tino?”

“Yeah?”

He came to a halt, then began singing in his beautiful, low voice. “ Sieben, Sieben, ai lyu lyu, Sieben, Sieben, ein, zwei, Sieben, Sieben, ai lyu lyu, ein, zwei, drei .”

Tino didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or shrivel up in cringe; Berwald's voice did not match the song at all, and his body had no idea how to react. He was completely in love. “Dude, marry me, but, like platonically,” he added quickly.

Berwald looked at him strangely, then took his hands and swung them from side to side. “Tanzen!”

“Ich liebe!” He gave a little jump.

Tino almost fell off his wall, and Berwald grabbed him by the waist. He spun him around, growling in his ear, “I want to see, lasha tumbai.”

“I want to see! Lasha tumbai!”

“Rock 'n roll angels bring thyn hard rock hallelujah, demons and angels all in one have arrived!”

Tino snuggled up to him, and his body felt a little colder after Berwald put him down.

“C’me on,” Berwald took his hand, “lets get back to- back to- um.”

“Your place?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?” asked Tino, tripping over the coat stand. Berwald steadied him gently, and Tino cuddled his arm in response, with no intention of letting go. “And you have nice arms. They’re… good-shaped. Shapey. Hard.” He traced his fingers over Berwald’s hand, over the veins and rough knuckles and all the little nicks in his fingertips. “Good hands... good, strong hands.”

Berwald, for his part, seemed to be trying his best not to laugh. That was fair; Tino’s entire life was a cringe compilation his cousins were slowly putting together.

“Do you make things?” asked Tino, “you should. You have creative...ing hands.”

“I whittle,” he mumbled.

”Of course! Good whittle hands! You can make things!”

“Helps with nerves,” he admitted.

“It’s sad you have troubles with nerve. Stupid nerves. You’re so amazing and beefy and smart and handsome and you can do anything.”

“Got nerf’d with anxiety.”

He smiled. “Like how I got nerfed by being a manlet?”

“Yer cute. Small ‘n cute.”

“Don’t make me come up there and fight you!” Tino hugged him instead. Or, more accurately, fell against him. Berwald wrapped his arms around him. “Can’t hurt you. Too nice. Stupid tree.” Berwald snorted and lead him to the sofa to sit down. He went to pour them both glasses of water, because he was that barrel of laughs who drank water on a night out, to stay hydrated.

“You’re good,” when Berwald sat down, Tino leaned against him, sipping the water. “So good. You’re the best. You’re so nice to me, and- and- I wish I could make it up to you, and tell you I like you.”

Berwald blinked at that. “Y’like me?”

“Yeah. I wish I could let you know. Like, by fellating you or something.”

“Telling me would be fine!” Okay, if Berwald was saying that, maybe Tino needed to work on communication. Except, right now, his head was swimming and he was talking out his arse.

“You deserve nice things,” he tried to explain, “and you’re so handsome.”

“Yer drunk.”

“You’re hot.”

“Yes, but y’need a lie down.”

Tino perked up at that. “In your bed?”

“Yes. Not like that. Jus’ sleeping.”

Tino nodded. “See? You’re so nice to me, even though I’m being gross and weird. Like, I just said I wanted to blow you and you’re looking after me.”

Berwald shrugged. “Like ya too.”

“Really? Even though I’m a mess?”

“Yeah. Cute. Fun.”

Tino nodded and rested his head on his chest. “Strong. Gentle.”

Berwald picked him up, bridal-style, and lead him to his bedroom. Tino looked around at Berwald’s sword collection before gently being laid down on the bed. He noticed a workbench in the corner with half-finished wood carvings set out in a line. The sheets were clean, bed made, and it didn't smell like it had been slept in.

“Your room is nice,” he commented, “sure- sure you don’t- want me-”

“Go to sleep,” Berwald began stroking his hair, “want me t’sing ya to sleep?”

Tino nodded. He’d pay hundreds to hear Berwald’s voice; how lucky he was to hear it here, in the calm of night.

“Rise, nations pride… Hold what's yours… Strike 'em were it hurts…”

“Think I might love you,” he mumbled. Berwald was too stunned to reply.

The next morning, Tino woke up with a raging hangover nowhere near as painful as the overwhelming shame as he began remembering just what he’d done and said and oh God he needed to get outta there .

So, whilst Berwald was still asleep - tangled up in his arms - he pulled himself out of bed as gently as possible, gathered up his clothes, and left, making as little noise as possible.

In the hallway, he ran into Gunner, also doing the walk of shame. Not that he had even heard of shame, judging by the smug grin he wore as he wiggled his eyebrows at Tino.

“Yo, did my cousin actually get some?”

“Fuck off Densen,” he ducked past him and out into sunshine that had no business being that bright.