#i got other shit to do. i'm a busy woman. i got tons to write and never enough time ya feel me

[cloud-somersault]

the fact that i'm just sitting on the next two chapters of the epilogue doesn't sit right with me, but not everyone's read it and also like...................i literally have not heard from some regulars since constellations chapter 3, are they just gone forever

[floydsmuse]

Meggy dearest, ask and ye shall receive for the brain is an endless pantry full of thoughts/thots and just know that if ever you want me to actually write anything for you, the ask box is always open, I don't bite unless somebody else tried to bite first (lol).

We've seen work life with Cal x wifey!reader, but what about at home?? I don't think we've really looked at that much (lol).

Of course you and Cal have been married for a while and as a result you've gotten to know his family really well......maybe a little too well (lol).

Calvin and his baby brother, John, were adopted as babies from an orphanage (I kinda feel like it was a situation similar to J. R.R Tolkien where they were under the temporary care of a priest). His adopted father, Henry Evans Jr., was a Marine who had served in World War I and later in Nicaragua under Chesty Puller, while his adopted mom, Patricia had been a World War I combat nurse at Belleau Wood. Both of them were really, really young when all that was going on and had a few older children before adopting Cal and John when they were little. Even in his adult years, Calvin remained close with Father McDowell and asked him if he wouldn't mind marrying you two when the time came.

Everything you learned about the kitchen came from Patricia. You swore up and down from the day you met her, that this woman was a kitchen witch in disguise. She had an entire cabinet full of recipes that were handed down from her family members, including one that she complied herself and that you both jokingly refer to as "the grimoire". She's also got a ton of home remedies that work like a charm. One time, Cal came down with a bone cracking bout of bronchitis at the beginning of winter and as soon as he came through the door, hacking his brains out, Patricia beckoned you into the kitchen, told you to boil some water and to throw a bunch of blood oranges and mulling spices into the pot (star anise, cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, allspice and black peppercorns). As soon as that was all boiled down, she made Cal drink it and oh did it clear him the fuck up!! (lol).

Dad on the other hand was a bit of a different story (lol).

Henry has the sickest sense of humor you have ever seen, like this man has absolutely no filter whatsoever but you and Cal absolutely LOVE IT!!! He was the one who taught Cal not only how to fix the car, the furnace etc. but he also fed Cal's love of chemistry (hell, any kind of science if I'm being honest). The one thing that Patricia probably could've done without though was Henry teaching their son to swear in six different languages (lol).

"Henry, if you teach any of the grandbabies those filthy, dirty words that you taught our kids, I'll send you running from that garage!"

"Pat I used to blow shit up in the jungle for a living, nothing you say or do could possibly scare me any more!"

Because of her nursing background, you often ask Patricia if she wouldn't mind coming to help with lectures down at the college. She's always happy to be a part of it no matter what and the girls absolutely LOVE HER!!!! One time however, she put a snobby admin in their place and the way she spoke had even Six-Thirty sitting up a little straighter and crossing his paws (lol).

"Young man, I had to earn my stripes in the middle of a shelled out church in France, rearraigning men's guts day after day while everywhere else was having the living daylights pounded out of them," she said. "So until you yourself have been there, I suggest you sit up a little straighter, keep your legs crossed, shut your mouth and mind your own business." (lol).

And of course there's Six-Thirty, your husband and father-in-law's favorite companion. When you and Cal found out you were expecting your first child together, that dog became soooooo protective of you it wasn't even funny. If anybody on campus even remotely looked at you the wrong way, Six-Thirty would go from sweetest dog in the world to one nasty son of a bitch in a snap. He, like Cal, especially hated D'Nadi after the slimeball tried to have you fired for being pregnant but thankfully, partially due to the stinkbomb incident, the college president (who was raising his own grandchildren) fired D'Nadi and anybody else who was spreading the petty bullshit around. Truth be told too, he never minded Six-Thirty wandering into his office to deliver important papers and memos (lol).

*BOUNUS!*

Six-Thirty is a seriously gentle giant with your baby. She cries in the middle of the night? He's waking you and Cal before anybody else has a chance. Weird noises flying around the house? He's guarding her crib like her life depends on it, even if it's just the house settling in the frigid, winter weather. She'll hug his whole face with her little body if she can which makes Cal laugh like an idiot, but oh God when she starts sitting up on her own, Six-Thirty plays this weird game with her where he'll drag her through the house on her blanket. It actually got to the point where you and Cal had no choice but to put up a baby gate near the stairs that went upstairs and in front of the basement entrance in the kitchen (lol).

Meggy I was expecting only to make an appetizer and instead I gave you a whole meal (lol).

Mary my darling! i seriously am living for all of your thoughts/thots & i absolutely love reading them 🥰 i’m sorry it took me a few days to get back to you. i’ve just been a bit busy & didn’t have the time to really sit down to dive into this, but i’m here & ready to read what amazing things you’ve come up with!

~ oooh! i love that you’ve decided to add Calvin’s family into the mix :) just wanna say on a side note, that i love that you mentioned J.R.R. Tolkien in regards to Calvin’s younger brothers. i am a huge lotr nerd & love the world of Tolkien! anyways… Calvin’s adoptive father being a marine & adoptive mother being a nurse just makes so much sense to me!

~ i like the idea of wifey learning how to cook from Cal’s mom! calling her a “kitchen witch” is just so funny to me😂 but i love it! & i love that she has been able to make up & create these home remedies that help with different sicknesses. i have a feeling that Calvin would also use these remedies when you fall sick or are not feeling the best. i also believe that he would use them with yours & Cal’s children. your babies would call Calvin, “the magic doctor”🥹 because once he whips up one of these “potions” (remedies) & they have a taste, they would feel better instantly & with such ease :,) ugh just the idea of Calvin with kids is making me all 🫠🥰😍

~ i love the idea of Calvin’s dad having a good sense of humor! i love a good laugh & i know people who also don’t have a filter, which can certainly be a trip! okay but i love how you said that his dad was the one who helped fuel his love for chemistry🥹 that’s so sweet! & omg haha. the whole part about Pat warning Henry not to curse in front of the grand babies & also teaching Cal how to curse in 6 different languages is sooo funny! it just seems like such a dad thing to do.

~ aww! momma Evans going into the college to help out with wifeys lectures & the students loving her is just awesome! i love it. ooh! & it seems like momma has got some fire in her, telling up that admin! as she should!! 😌

~ Six-Thirty is the best companion anyone could ask for & i completely agree that he would be super protective of wifey! he would be glued to your feet & would even sleep with his head gently lying on your belly during bedtime. he would even experience the moments where the baby would kick & he’d feel it🥹 making him perk up & look at you! he’d also protect your babies & be like an almost “bodyguard” to them :,) this is making me so soft !! oof damn D’Nadi! 😤 always causing unnecessary disrupt! i can’t stand him! but i’m glad wifey could still keep her job, thanks to the college president stepping in.

~ STOP IT RN. im actually going to sob, MARY !!! you are so right! Six-Thirty would be like the ultimate protector for your little baby. he would so alert Calvin & Wifey, as soon as the baby even starts to fuss. he would definitely guard the baby’s crib & wouldn’t leave their side no matter what. okay but Six-Thirty dragging baby around on a blanket in the house is such an interesting thing to imagine😅 but you know he’d be so gentle & baby would be letting out a fit of little squeals & giggles🥹 UGH I NEED A FIC WITH CAL, WIFEY, BABY & PROTECTOR SIX-THIRTY! i BEG PLSSS🥹😭💗

i can’t with all of this. your brain, Mary! these thoughts were just everything! thank you soo much for sharing them with me!! i seriously get such a kick out of reading them ! you have so many amazing ideas :,) i’m loving it all <3 ty again for this my darling! mwah😘

[imaginedreamwrite]

Maybe, I'm moving too fast, but I was thinking about Here's Your Perfect (because I absolutely love it) and came up with a headcanon for the future of the triad. Reader family's treatment destroyed her self-esteem not only in a sense that she disliked her body/didn't consider herself beautiful, but also in a sense that her only worth was (if she ever married - because even that was questionable at the time) her womb.

When Ari and Bucky take away her from her family, they both introduce her to their line of 'work'. And after some time passes, after she felt comfortable within walls of their house and their arms, she starts to participate in their 'businesses'.

It could start with Ari - he probably receives shit ton of letters, spends a lot of time in his study. Reader from time to time kept him company and he told her about lords with whom he is constantly in contact, some other useful people, told her about usual requests he dealing with and so on. And after some time she starts to help him. While I do think Ari has some sort of 'secretary', he still reads and answers letters himself. I imagine that Reader got proper education and can read and write, so she starts to read for him the letters, discuss them with him and sometimes writes response, so Ari only has to put his signature.

Then, maybe, when he is away, she gains confidence in running the household (which isn't easy task, because they probably live in a castle or other big building) and dealing with request from villagers living nearby. When time passes, maybe, some lords starts writing to her trying to gain connection to Lord Levinson, but Reader isn't that stupid.

With Bucky it's different - I don't think he would ever let her be near combat, but he probably could teach her about smithcraft or horse breeding. And while traveling with Ari, she could visit market where she meets smith whose work is beautiful and clean (based on Reader judgement and knowledge Bucky provided) or on some farm she sees beautiful strong mare and meet a farmer who breed horses (judging by horses' health - very successfully). Reader is quick to write to Bucky about these acquaintances, so Bucky could use this information to hire someone or buy quality weapons and horses.

In conclusion, I think after some time Reader not only will become a well-loved woman, but also girl boss. And her men are very proud - she is beautiful, she is smart and most importantly - she is their.

I love this 😍 They know she is so much more than a womb, even when they have kids they’ll think and know that she has so much more value than her parents put on her

“Ari?” The candlelight glows softly, illuminating the pages he had set before him, the ink pot to the left had gone unused in the last few moments.

“Dewdrop,” he raised his head and turned his body toward you, eyes running up and down your frame as a soft smile formed, “hello beautiful.”

“Can I…keep you company?” You enter the study, testing the waters and his limits your fears that he could or would kick you out was bubbling in your belly. “I notice you spend a lot of time here and-“

“Come, love.” He beckons you closer, edging you toward him. “I’ll show you what I’m doing.”

You expect him to make you stand, you don’t expect him to pull you into his lap and settle the curve of your backside firmly against his groin. His hands hold your hips, they steadily centre your body against his so he can rest his chin on your shoulder. He is embracing you to the fullest and most intimate extent while you feel his chest rising and falling against your back with every breath. You can smell the faint scent of smoke and ash, the embers from the fireplace conductively attached to his body from when he stoked the fire in your room. His beard is well-maintained yet thick, and it brushes against his lips as he speaks softly.

“Is it truly okay?” You were questioning him as well as yourself, feeling as if there was another shoe yet to drop.

“You are always welcome where I am.” Ari shifts and shuffles papers on the desk before he finally settles on a thick piece of parchment, fine ink scrawled long the paper. “Requisitions and requests for funding, for greater amounts of food and livestock.”

“And from others?”

“Nobles who think they’re starving, who claim they can’t feed their families and yet they attend and host lavish parties.” Ari had sighed impatiently and set one letter down for another. “Then there are some who want to do good for the people in their towns, they are the ones I help first.”

“And you…respond to everyone of them?” You looked back at him, heat blooming between your thighs from the intense way he was looking at you.

“Eventually, love.” He leans forward, bumping his nose against yours as he steals a kiss and slips his hands around your hips to your stomach. “Would you like to help me?”

“I can help you?” You question again, slowly getting off his lap, only for him to allow you to sit in his place. “You want my help?”

“I could use it if you have time?” Ari turns and reaches for a side table, grabbing a bundle of letters tied with twine. “I have a lot to do, and I could use the company. And an extra set of hands.”

You look between Ari and the bundle in his hands, your teeth clamping down on the inside of your cheek. You had never once been granted access to anything that was deemed less than important, and while you had learned to read and write, you were cast off into the shadows just as quickly. You had never been told you were important enough for tasks like this and yet Ari was asking for your help.

“I can help, I can try.” You reached for the bundle, hooking your fingers around the twine. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to open the first few letters and read them to me, so i can start working on responses.” Ari had addressed you with nothing less than devout and upmost respect and care, giving you a task that was neither demeaning nor menial.

“I can do that.” Your response was soft, and you had quickly undone the twine that held the letters, reaching for the first on top of the stack. You used the dull knife he had grabbed to open the letters and broke the wax seal, unfolding the paper in your hands. You began reading the letter starting with the greeting, watching Ari out of the corner of your eyes, his hand tucked under his chin as he listened to you.

The fallen and dried out branches had crunched beneath your feet as you crossed the distance from the back of the house to the stables and pen that was built with sturdy wood, your attention firmly set upon Bucky. He had been paying special attention to a horse in the pen, a bridle made of thick leather set around the horse’s muzzle.

The horse was a beast, at least 19 hands tall with strength in its body that was clear to you, even if you had little experience with horses. It was standing close to Bucky as he studied and ran his hand over the horse’s neck, the dark hair and coat of the horse reminded you of darkened ash, not quite black and not a true grey but somewhere in between. It was a beast but it was beautiful, and it made even Bucky look small in comparison to its strength and towering body.

“Come closer, he won’t hurt you.” Bucky had motioned you over with one hand remaining on the horse’s neck and the other waving you toward him. “She looks big but she’s a gentle giant.”

“She?” You were surprised to hear him speak the feminine word instead of what you had expected, and that had only made the horse seem more amazing than before.

“She,” Bucky had watched you opening the gate for the pen before you stepped in and closed it behind you, “is a gift.”

“A gift?” You pondered, slowly and anxiously treading toward him. “You got her as a gift?”

“I’m a mercenary, or I was. Once I decided I was done, I wanted to continue a trade. Horse breeding, raising horses, it’s what I love to do.” Bucky had reached for your hand, holding it out toward the horse to get used to your scent, keeping you close by.

“You surprise me.” You muttered, studying Bucky in a new light.

He was a man who was raised and made a living on fighting, he was as beastly as the horse had first appeared to be. However like the giant before you, Bucky was more than he appeared to be. He had put his skills into training new men to fight and defend, but he had also taken great care of livestock and horses as a trade-off livelihood.

“She’s gentle,” he set your hand upon her nose and muzzle, rubbing your hand softly upon her hair as she stood patiently, “she wouldn’t dare hurt you.”

“You got her as a gift..?” You side-eyed him, not entirely comfortable with taking your eyes off her yet.

“A wedding present of sorts.” Bucky had stepped behind you, his hands resting on your hips and you had wondered if he was going to embrace you but rather, he had lifted you in one fell swoop and placed you upon her back. You squeaked in response and she had shifted under your weight, not out of fright but more as an acknowledgment.

“You’re doing good but you need to relax.” Bucky had stepped to the side, one hand upon her neck and the other on your thigh. “Just breathe, she won’t hurt you.”

“Bucky I don’t-“ Your eyes grew wide and you fearfully looked down at him.

“Would you like to take her for a ride?” He pat her neck and squeezed your thigh. “She’s a gentle giant-“

“No, no, no-“

“I’ll come with you,” he hummed, his lips stretched into a soft smile before he had effortlessly drew himself up onto her back in one fell swoop, settling himself behind you, “are you less frightened now?”

“I wish,” you swallowed thickly, “I could tell you yes.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, I’m right here for you.” Bucky had let out a sharp whistle, the sound bringing a young man straight from the stables. he had scurried to the pen and opened it for the two of you, bowing his head to you and to Bucky. “Let’s go for a tour of the back property. I want to show you something.”

[max--phillips]

Very relieved to hear I'm not the only one who doesn't care about/like Taylor Swift. All her music is the same. All she does is write about her exes and then is like: "Hmmmm.... Why can't I keep a man guys." to the press like... Gee, I wonder why that is. It sure is a mystery with that girl. *rolls eyes* Not to mention her apparent penchant for suing fans when they have fun and use her lyrics to sell stuff on redbubble like.... Girl you're a billionaire and you have a problem with broke fans making fun stuff on a website to make some money?

Yeah I mean, personally I have questionable music taste so I’m not going to judge anyone for that, and like. When I was in high school I did really enjoy 1989, got the CD for Christmas. And admittedly while I agree her songs sound kind of repetitive as a whole, they ARE catchy, so credit where credit is due she has the formula down to a science. And that formula continues to include making exes look like bad guys, regardless of what the real story is (and tbh the real story is not truly anyones business but theirs)

But, yeah, I’ve always gotten weird vibes from her. I know that for a long time she wasn’t talking about politics because she was still trying to corner the country audience, and something about contractually being obligated not to talk about it maybe? But that was still weird. And then she had a music video that apparently was supposed to take place in Africa but didn’t have? Any? Black people? In it???

Also also, she had Lena Dunham (derogatory) in that one music video??

Also also also, did we just like, FORGET that her private jet pumped out 8,293.54 METRIC TONS of CO2 between January and July (when that study was published)? She was the worst offender on that list, “1,184.8 times more than the average person's total annual emissions” IN SEVEN MONTHS. HELLO????

And yesterday I think I shared a post that had this quote from the Genius commentary on the opening line of Vigilante Shit which encapsulates exactly why I don’t like her: “This is an appropriate reflection of Taylor Swift herself, who often paints herself as the underdog despite being the most wealthy, privileged and critically acclaimed white woman in the music industry. She performs feminist tropes while simultaneously benefiting from and playing into patriarchal structures and white privilege.”

She didn’t get to the top from nothing. She came from a wealthy family who owned a Christmas tree farm in Pennsylvania, and she’s a white skinny 30-something cishet woman with more money that I could fathom ever having. Obviously that’s not to say she can’t be a feminist or can’t be critical of the systems she benefits from, and honestly kudos to her for being able to leverage that in her favor, but it’s a lot easier to leverage that in your favor when you’re… a thin cishet conventionally attractive woman who came from privilege to begin with.

So idk. Ultimately, if her music wasn’t enjoyable, she wouldn’t be one of the most successful musicians in the industry right now. I’m not judging anyone for enjoying her stuff. But I am critical of her and encourage other people to be as well. (You can be critical of things and still enjoy them!!! I know I have several things that fall into this category!) So idk at the end of the day listen to what makes you happy (or what you enjoy, sad music exists lmao) but also like. Realize that celebrities are not our friends and do not have our best interest in mind since it is so far removed from their bizarre, out of touch reality

[yooniesim]

It’s kind of disappointing that you’re not using your platform to call Sim Vault (one of Mack’s closest friends in the community and a creator) out on her blatant racism. For the record, Sim Vault is the creator who “exposed” the doxxing ring. Not because it was the right thing to do, but because she was rejected by the group of creators for being considered untrustworthy. That hurt her ego and she decided to lambast them. She‘s been being dragged on Twitter for her racist comments and has since deleted her Twitter account altogether to avoid the heat:

1. Telling Black simmers that we don’t can’t complain about being called “black simmers” since we call ourselves that — which literally no one ever complained about. This was in response to the leaked screenshots of Sunny/Mack telling a friend that Black simmers need to stop crying victim and get “over it.” SimVault’s dumb ass thought the racism part of that was in calling Black people…Black. I guess she is using the logic that we shouldn’t call ourselves the n-word if we don’t want others too; which again, the fact that she’s equating the two speaks volumes. She referred to us as “you people” and also poked fun at BLM.

2. Told a Black Simmer that SHE was continuing racism by…talking about it. More specifically by calling Mack out. “You want racism to end? Stop talking about it. You’re continuing racism.” Straight out of conservative’s playbook. She lacks the mental bandwidth to have a nuanced conversation about racism so I won’t waste my finger stamina unpacking that bull shit.

3. Made a thinly veiled threat to report a Black simmer’s legal cannabis business by saying “I hope it’s legal” and “Funny…because I can’t find your license to distribute CBD on your state government’s directory.” Which a) is doxxing b) is racially motivated to assume that a black woman would not be licensed c) a clear threat to someone’s livelihood.

There are other examples that others have captured both on Twitter and Tumblr but Sim Vault is a coward. She’s deleting things just as quickly as she posts them. Receipts can be found @artistalchemystic on Tumblr as well as on @SSimflower Twitter (who is the Black woman whose business was threatened by Sim Vault).

SV and Mack are close friends. This now should satiate any doubt that Mack/Sunny/Solar Pirate is indeed a flaming racist. Even her longtime gal pal, Simbelene, has turned on her and is seen liking a ton of Twitter posts dragging both Sunny & Sim Vault. Though your hands ain’t clean either Simbelene: you knew, as a Black woman yourself, exactly who she was and you never called her out. Publicly nor privately and I know that as I was in the private friends’ server. You rubbed her back to make sure she knew she wasn’t racist all so that you could have a stake in the anti-paywall popularity race. Shame on you all.

I've gotten a few asks about this subject so I wanted to put them together.

Side note before I get into it though: the part about it being disappointing I'm not "using my platform" to talk about this is rude. I answer these asks when I can and give my opinions on topics but I am not some simblr paragon of justice as much as Mack isn't and it's not my job to write a callout post on everyone on this site. I didn't even know who this person was until I got these asks about them. I appreciate people coming and telling me things, but I'm not a machine or a news outlet. Try to be kinder.

Anyway, here's the asks I've gotten and all the proof. So more of Mack's friends are blatant racists? Color me surprised. It's all terrible, but the third point is especially sickening. I kept hearing mentions of someone being doxxed but couldn't find any details. To threaten someone's business in the first place is gross, and to actually take the time to find out what state they're supposedly in and look up a directory is so strange and violating. It's no wonder that all these racists used to run with the paywallers bc they all have the same MO. I have no idea how they managed to turn and get a good reputation here. Especially since their turns all seem to be based on hurt egos. SimVault and Mack both weren't good enough for the paywallers, and so they turned against them. It was never about paywalling, never about the community, never about the doxxing and harassment. It's about them. It's sad.

To anyone reading this: please be careful. I hate to say it, but it's hard to trust people here and they will try to use your personal info to hurt or threaten you. When I was younger it was standard to not use your real name, important email, etc online and I would encourage that here as well. Don't tell anyone your detailed location, or even your state if you're from the US. It's incredibly easy to find someone with just a small amount of info these days. Be safe.

[artificialqueens]

Bitch Fight, Ch.4 (Multi-Ship) - Lita

Welcome to the world of Femme Fatale Wrestling. The future is female, and we're here to prove it.

A/N: Thank you guys again for all the love - I'm stupid excited to post this one, the wider supporting cast is arguably one of my favourite things about writing this story, and I'm finally getting to introduce more of them. I've not got a ton more to say, so hope you all enjoy! <3<3

CHAPTER FOUR: WHAT

Adore trails behind Bianca into the locker room, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She’d been excited about this ever since Bianca had brought it up to her - her first real show, her first true steps into the business; the start of something new, the beginning of the rest of her life or what-the-fuck-ever. But contrary to her expectations, it feels kind of...boring?

There are maybe five or six other girls milling around in metallic spandex, mostly sitting on the benches staring at their phones; a couple stood in front of the mirror putting on makeup or fixing their hair. The room smells like hairspray and Icy Hot, and it’s overly-bright and depressingly empty. They’d come around the back entrance to the building, Bianca leading Adore through endless white, fluorescent-lit corridors that she really hoped she wasn’t going to have to navigate herself on her way to the ring, because she definitely hadn’t been paying enough attention to know where she was going a second time.

Bianca drops her bag down on the bench, starting to fish her gear out of it - Adore stands next to her, not sure what to do with herself. The woman sitting across from them looks up from her phone, walking over to them. She pulls Bianca into a hug.

“Thank god you’re here - Miss Fame got food poisoning, so she’s off the card. She was supposed to be working the main event with Courtney - who, by the way, isn’t even here yet, - Bill’s been tearing me a new asshole all night, and trying to get Jinkx to give a crap is like trying to get blood out of a stone- hold the phone, who is that?” She’s talking at an insane speed, even Bianca seems to be struggling to understand her, before she stops dead; staring Adore down.

“This is Adore. I found her in the parking lot a few weeks ago and I’ve been training her. I figured that we could give her a chance to work some shit in front of a real crowd tonight. She’s still green, but she can bump like a motherfucker and she’ll do basically anything you tell her to.” Adore gives an awkward smile, waving. “And before you ask, yes I okayed it with Bill.”

She breathes a heavy sigh, relaxing her shoulders. She’s a little shorter than Bianca, and curvier; short, dark hair, dressed in a black and lilac singlet. Bianca turns to Adore.

“Adore, this is Dela. I’d say she doesn’t always seem this crazy - she does, but you learn to live with it.” Bianca says. “I have shit to do that doesn’t involve babysitting people all night. You-” she turns to Adore. “-go talk to people, make some friends that aren’t me. And Dela, chill the fuck out.” She takes her stuff, walking off in the vague general direction of what Adore assumes is the bathroom to go and get changed.

“Y’know, you need to stop talking about people like they’re not standing right in front of you,” Dela shouts after her, before turning to Adore. “It’s nice to meet you, sweetie. Sorry about all that.”

“It’s cool,” Adore shrugs, easing up a little. “I like your hair. It’s cute.”

Dela blushes. “Thank you.” She sits down, patting the bench beside her. Adore takes a seat next to her. “Yeah, I promise it’s not usually this bad, tonight has been more of a wreck than usual. My wife owns the promotion - she used to wrestle too, but she had to retire last year, and let’s just say she hasn’t taken to it well. Every day is kinda substitute teacher day right now.”

“It’s okay - I don’t mind. I’m just excited to be here.” Adore has to stifle an excited laugh - it’s true. It didn’t matter how hard training had been - Bianca had worked her like a fucking drill sargeant for the first few days, until she realised that the one thing that Adore could do quite well was throwing herself at the floor. Those years on the deathmatch circuit had definitely paid off. She’d started learning some actual wrestling; mostly just locking up and basic holds and maneuvers - her back was still black and blue from learning to run the ropes - but she was making good progress, and they’d discovered mostly by accident that she was capable of a semi-passable moonsault. It felt good - seeing the pride in Bianca’s face whenever she did something right. All the sucky nights of sleep, and bodily aches, and early mornings, and exhaustion felt fucking worth it.

She had been like a kid on Christmas Eve the night before. Lying staring at the ceiling of Bianca’s guest room, as she had been for the last month or so - at Bea’s insistence; since Adore would be sticking around for the foreseeable future, it made more sense than having her sleep in her driveway. Bianca was, at her core, really sweet, even if she seemed to hate people knowing it - struggling to even contemplate going to sleep because she couldn’t shut her brain up. But that morning, the excitement had melted away into nerves, which had steadily mounted as the day dragged on.

“Bianca said she’d been training you, right?”

“Yeah - I’ve been like, sort of wrestling for a few years. But it was all backyard deathmatch shit, I didn’t really know how to do anything besides hit people with chairs and make them bleed,” she shrugs, laughing a little.

Dela grimaces. “I feel like I don’t need to ask what happened to your arm then?”

“Oh yeah,” Adore laughs. The scars from her last match are still red and raw-looking, freshly healed and still kind of gross. Which probably hadn’t been helped by her insistence on picking at them, much to Bianca’s general disgust, but she thought they looked cool. “A guy threw me through a sheet of glass, it was fucking dope. That’s how I met Bianca. I’ve been watching her since I was a kid - I ran into her in the parking lot here, and asked her to come to one of my matches. She did, and then she freaked the fuck out and drove me to the ER, but we’re friends now, so it’s cool.”

Dela looks a little uneasy, before perking up. “Well, I think you’re gonna like it here. The other girls are all really nice. Plus you’re in good hands with Bianca - I’ve known her for years, she’s a great worker.”

“She is really cool,” Adore smiles. “So are you,” she adds. Dela smiles.

“You’re sweet,” Dela says. “I need to go talk to Bill - you’ll have heard me talking about him, he’s our referee and - I hope - temporary booker, so I can try and work out where you’re gonna fit on the card. What’s your ring name again?”

“Uh, Adore Delano.”

“And where do you wanna be billed from?”

“Uh, I’m from Azusa.” Dela has the notes app open on her phone, and she jots this down, nodding.

“So, I think the best people to try and put you with will be either me or Bianca - you’ve obviously worked with her before, and second to her I’m the most experienced person here. Not that anyone else is bad, necessarily, but I feel like being in there with a veteran to keep you on the right track is a good idea. Does that sound okay with you?”

“Sure,” Adore says, nodding.

“So, you’ll probably be opposite either Dela Monsoon - that’s me - or Santerìa, which I think you know is Bianca, on the card.”

“Party,” Adore says. Dela gives a bemused laugh.

“Cool - I promise nobody bites, go talk to some of the other ladies,” Dela says, standing up. Adore smiles as she leaves the room.

This is fun. Stressful, but fun. Adore isn’t really sure what to do with herself, looking around in the room of new faces and feeling an unfamiliar ball of nerves sitting in the pit of her stomach. As much as she doesn’t miss what went on in the ring quite as much, she misses the atmosphere before the shows she used to work. It was more chilled-out than this - and there were more people like her. More people who seemed less straight-laced and focused. She didn’t have much in the way of a pre-show ritual, but throwing back a couple of beers in someone’s car before taping up her fists and heading to the ring had always been pretty par-for-course. Turning up to the venue and then sitting around doing nothing for hours felt insane to her.

She feels out-of-place and a little unsure of herself; everyone else seemed so polished. She looks over to the girl standing across from her in gold attire. She has one foot up on the bench as she laces up her boots; dark skin and white-blonde hair down to her hips.

“Hi,” Adore calls over to her; the other woman gives her a quick, tight-lipped smile, saying nothing as she turns back to tying her shoes. Adore breathes in, crossing her legs and readjusting herself a little uncomfortably.

“What the fuck are you doing? Go get changed,” Bianca, back from the bathroom, elbows her in the shoulder. She’s in her ring gear now - a crop top and tights, dark red with gold accents. Her hair is tied into a loose bun at the back of her neck, and she’s turned to rake around in her bag for her makeup.

“Bitch, I am changed,” Adore protests. She’s in the same denim shorts and bra combo that she’s always worn to the ring.

“Really?” Bianca looks her up and down. “I know for a goddamn fact that those shorts are still covered in your blood, because you have not done a single load of laundry in the last month.”

“It gives them character.” Adore shrugs.

“I’m more concerned that you don’t seem to ever change your underwear,” Bianca mutters, rolling her eyes. “What about your hair? Makeup? Anything?”

“Done and done,” Adore says, blasse. Bianca looks exasperated. She’s wearing her hair down, yesterday’s eyeliner having become today’s smoky eye, and little more effort put in besides throwing on some lipstick and fresh mascara. Adore has never bothered to put in any more work than this before a show, and she’s not sure why Bianca seems to expect that she should change that now. Bianca seems different to usual - tense and a little edgy.

Bianca rolls her eyes. “The show doesn’t start for another hour and a half, do you literally have nothing else to do besides staring at the wall with your thumb up your ass?”

“I wanna go smoke,” Bianca huffs a sigh; Adore looks up at her with plaintive puppy eyes.

“Fine - there’s a fire exit down the hall. Go out there, and don’t take forever.”

******

Adore steps outside, pulling her pack of cigarettes and lighter out of her bra. God, this place is big, and the hallways are confusing. There are two others out there already - a brunette, a few feet away from them with her finger in one ear, arguing into her cellphone in what sounds like Japanese, and a blonde standing with a joint between her fingers.

They’re both wearing matching bra and shorts combos, in chartreuse green, with kickpads and elbow-length fingerless gloves that both read ‘PRETTY DOPE’; carrying matching title belts. The brunette has hers around her waist, the blonde’s is slung backwards over her shoulder as she holds it by the end of the strap. Adore breathes in, approaching the blonde as she lights her smoke.

“Hey.”

“Who the fuck are you?” She curls her lip. She has hair to her shoulders with short, blunt bangs and sporadic streaks of green through it. She blows smoke out through her nose, straight into Adore’s face.

“Uh- I’m Adore, I’m-”

“Honey, no-one asked,” the blonde says bluntly.

“But you literally just-”

“Bitch, I don’t care. You’re killing my vibe here.” Adore shrinks into herself a little, taking a drag of her cigarette. The blonde pushes Adore out of the way to lean over to shout to the other girl: “Hey Gia! You want a hit?”

The brunette gives an exasperated groan, yelling into her phone again before abruptly ending the call, stuffing the phone into her bra and walking over to them. She takes the joint out of the blonde’s hand, placing it between her lips.

“Urgh, I wish my mom would hop off my fucking dick - who is that?” She points at Adore, who is now leaning against the wall, trying to make herself seem as small as possible. Her voice has gone up about three octaves compared to how she was speaking on the phone.

“Some bitch called Adore. Are you okay?” She looks at Gia.

“Yeah, just more stupid shit about wanting me to come back home. I mean, I know it’s been six years or whatever, but like, you know I can’t.” The blonde looks a little concerned, her face tentative. “What? Are you on her side now or something?”

“No! Just like…I dunno, she’s your mom. Maybe she just misses you and shit.”

“You need to hop off my dick too.” Gia curls her lip. She flicks ash at the ground, passing the joint back to the blonde, who takes another long draw.

Adore scuffs the toes of her shoes along the ground. The sun is still up; the air hot, sticky, and gross. She doesn’t do humidity. She can feel herself sweating, and is struck with a sudden, weird paranoia over body odour - did she pack deodorant? Someone in the locker room will have, she can ask them. Can she ask them? She isn’t sure - she doesn’t want to annoy Bianca, and everyone else keeps looking at her or, in the case of the two standing across from her, whispering into each other’s ears with their backs to her, talking to her like they think she’s insane. God, Adore can’t remember the last time she felt this self-conscious.

“Yo, Adore!” the blonde calls over to her. Adore jumps, dropping her cigarette on the ground. Gia laughs, loud and obnoxious, before her friend elbows her; Gia grabbing at her arm, scowling. The blonde holds her joint out to her. “Want some?”

Adore stutters a little. “Uh- no thanks, I’m good.”

“Loser,” Gia says. “We’re trying to be nice.”

“Sorry, I-”

The door that Adore is leaning against opens, hitting her in the back, and she trips over; only just stopping herself from falling on the ground.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” A familiar voice cries out - grabbing Adore’s arm to steady her.

Thank fuck - it was Dela on the other side. Gia and her friend start shuffling around, pushing each other as if trying to hide from the older woman, in plain sight. Dela lets out a heavy sigh.

“Ladies, I’m not stupid. I can smell it from down the hall.”

Gia holds up her empty hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her voice is drawling and cunty as she takes a step towards Dela, like she’s trying to intimidate her.

“Laganja?” The blonde avoids eye contact with Dela. “You have a match later, I shouldn’t have to keep telling you this shit - we expect literally everyone else to be sober in the ring, you guys aren’t an exception.” Dela says. Laganja gives a heavy roll of her eyes, dropping the joint on the floor. It’s only been around a quarter smoked. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see that.”

“You suck,” Laganja says as they both trail back towards the door, Gia muttering ‘fucking narc’ just loud enough to be audible as she deliberately rams her shoulder into Dela.

Dela bites her lip - clearly trying to compose herself as Adore lights another cigarette; the one she’d dropped had only been half-finished, and she’s still a little tetchy, feeling a bizarre need to occupy her hands.

“You want one?” She holds the cigarette pack out to Dela, who takes one; Adore lights it for her.

“Thanks,” Dela takes a drag, before breathing out a heavy sigh, relaxing a little. “Are you okay?”

Adore nods. “Pretty much - they were kinda dicks.”

Dela raises her eyebrows knowingly. “Pretty Dope are harmless,” she says, her tone flat and somewhat insincere. “Yeah, they’re dicks, but if you want my opinion, it’s on purpose because they think it makes them look cool. Do you know the meaning of the phrase ‘being a mark for oneself’?”

Adore shrugs. “Kinda?”

“They believe their own hype too much,” Dela explains. “Like, we all have our persona or gimmick or whatever, but they live theirs rather than working it. It’s a lot. That said, they’re both great performers. They’re our tag team champs - I think they probably will be for a while, we don’t have a ton of other tag teams.”

“Right,” Adore nods.

“Have you spoken to anyone else?”

“Uh...the black girl in the gold bikini? Well, I tried to, anyway. She didn’t speak to me back.” Dela smiles a little.

“Oh, that’s Trinity. She’s a sweetheart - she’s just insanely shy. It’s not you, I promise. She’s incredible in the ring, though - big wrestling family. You’re way too young to remember GLOW, right? Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling?”

Adore shakes her head.

“It was a wrestling show from the 80s, all women - it was kinda before my time too, but my dad had a few tapes of it when I was a kid, and I was obsessed with it. Anyway, Trin’s mom was on that for years, she was a pretty big deal - ‘The Welfare Queen’ Latrice Royale?”

“Holy shit - I think I met her at a convention when I was like, nine. My mom used to take me to stuff like that all the time.” Adore smiles.

“Like I said, I was raised on that show - she was always one of my favourites, I think I nearly died when I found out Trin was her daughter,” Dela laughs.

“Have you been wrestling for a while?”

“Ten years? Maybe fifteen. I started out as a manager - my wife and I had this really cute knock-off Randy Savage and Miss Elizabeth thing going for a few years, then we started teaming together. It was awesome - we used to be called The Weather Girls, we walked out to the ring to It’s Raining Men. I miss working with her.” Dela gives a long sigh.

“Bianca talks about her a lot too. She sounds dope.”

Dela gives a weak smile. She looks distant - not saying anything for a while, staring at the ground between draws. Adore isn’t quite sure what to do with herself. Dela shakes herself off a little, putting her cigarette out against the wall and turning to Adore.

“Shit - I totally forgot, I came out here for a reason. Bianca said this is where I’d find you, I need to talk to you. We finalised the card - I promise everything isn’t usually this last-minute, but tonight has been a little crazy. Now, this is gonna sound insane, and it seems like a lot for your first night, but- y’know what, just come back inside.”

[touchmycoat]

BOOK RECS BOOK RECS

I've read 3 (and a half) books by this author (Bai Lu Cheng Shuang) now and I'm in LOVE. They seem to be consistently concerned with the question of how love can exist between men and women when society loads them with such systemic power imbalances. The female leads are all charming as hell and super distinctive, and BLCS has this way of concretizing exactly what love is. You get tons of hijinks and shenanigans and sarcastic mental monologues, but in the middle of all that, you also get relationships broken down in realistic, down-to-earth terms. Showing your shitty husband loyalty and apparent love? It's how you keep your ass out of the line of fire, whether or not he actually likes you, duh. Not getting jealous when he shows affection to other women? Why get jealous of insubstantial promises when you can get that dough, or food and shelter. Find out what he needs done and do it for him—make yourself useful and you get leverage. The author sees the problems of patriarchy and finesses the fuck out of them—plays men at their own game until the women walk out with both the monetizable goods and the emotional goods lmfao.

Can't stop won't stop recommending this. Modern woman transmigrates into a novel's minor villainness and sets out to make the main male lead fall in love with her so she can go home and get her end-of-year bonus already. Ji Man makes me heart-horny, I've already raved about it. I'm honestly about to reread it literally in this moment. BLCS is all about practical love—yeah, you can get doki doki about some person, but that's going to go. After it fades, have you learned how to manage that relationship? Do you understand that staying in love is work? Ji Man is so damn SMART, and i love scorpios ;;

I...would actually love to translate this novel because talk about my cup of tea! Widely-hated princess is executed for her sins by the Prime Minister, only she transmigrates into another young lady's body and sets out to clean out all the corrupt politicians and get revenge on the people who got her killed—who of course is the male lead. MC serves mushy nonsense and sex jokes like nobody's business, but it's all an act to keep her by the ML's side. The ML's ADORABLE jesus christ, very Lan Wangji-energy. I lovelovelove Ning Yuxuan from Spring Boudoir, but Jiang Xuanjin pushes all my OTHER buttons. Li Huaiyu is sexy and cute and has a following of men for good reasons. I cried for her when shit started going down, and this novel has one of my favorite slow burn > whump > misunderstandings > ignition progressions in the world.

the book i literally just finished today and spent oh, two hours dripping tears and snot for? Tentative title translation: The World for a Peach Blossom. A Zhao Country princess is to be married to the Southern King (an honorary title for a son of the Emperor) of Wei Country, but on the way, she stumbles into the Wei Prime Minister's plot to kill her for political power. The author writes something like "Shen Zaiye has a hundred ways to get Jiang Taohua killed and Jiang Taohua has a hundred and one ways to convince him not to." Bastard meets bastard, and the political shenanigans are FIERCE. BLCS writes such intricate plot lines that exemplify "the personal is political" fnjdjfndjnf harem women and their relationships and infighting can both dictate and be dictated by the greater "men's world" of politics. The title really says it all—the MC's name is literally peach blossom, and the tug-of-war at the heart of this novel is, when two bastards fighting for the good of their countries meet and fall in love, which will they sacrifice, their love or their countries?

(okay this one was not an easy read though, i'll be real the ML rapes the MC in the very first chapter and while she takes it pretty calmly, it's...a hell of a way to start a relationship. the ending had me fucking bawling for chapters and chapters though, in a good way.)

I'm putting this last 'cause i'll be real i didn't finish it. I picked it up because of the premise: modern woman transmigrates into the Prime Minister of an ancient kingdom who is a major pain in the Emperor's butt. She thinks the PM is a guy, but turns out he's a woman in disguise. Both the Emperor and the Emperor's bff go gay for her, except the Emperor figures out she's a woman first and they fuck about it. It's interesting and funny, and the MC has the charm of Shang Qinghua from Scum Villain—clever enough and good with words, but very much a coward at heart. Emperor's gruff and tough dude who does NOT know he comes off so grumpy. Reasons I put it down...neither the MC nor ML are as clever as the leads in the other novels. The plot lines and pacing also felt kind of sophomoric compared to her other works—the emotional payoffs really weren't all that there for me.

[transsexualhamlet]

Sherlock Holmes Reactions As A Flaming Homosexual (part 5 lmao)

Again I will be putting this shit under the cut because it's gonna be So Long and also fair warning for sherlock is in fact a raging drug addict and I have a lot of yknow parts that talk about that so tread with caution but hi i am once again yelling. keep in mind i am deliriously ill while writing this one but i think i sound. just about as insane as usual. maybe it's a bit less organized tho lol

OK FIRST I WILL STATE IT SOMEHOW DID NOT COME TO MY ATTENTION FIRST READING SIGN OF FOUR THAT WATSON APPARENTLY F U C K S

like i think it's so funny that most people will look at those two and definitely think it's the other way around but no. sherlocks a virgin and watson has had sex with every woman ever and probably not limited to women

and another thing I somehow missed the first time around in sign of four. sherlock sherlock please honey this is serious get help

TH

THREE TIMES A GODDAMN DAY???? SHERLOCK I AM BEGGING YOU TO STOP HOW IS THIS MAN ALIVE

Funniest thing is that watson tells him to stop and hes like Watson i Only do drugs when the Newspaper is boring

is the newspaper boring three times a day sherlock. is it really

And at the same time sherlock checks the paper like a goddamn phone notification he'll just run out and get the latest version to see if anything's changed just like on the hour. Wow that man is not neurotypical.

poor watson tbh

why are these men just batshit fucking insane I love them

So yeah back to some random funny bits i got from reading a ton of the short stories

Ok i must say it's quite funny just my experience being either reading something about sherlock and watson and going awww they're in love or just violently yelling S H E R L O C K

Cause i was like reading a bit where watson was talking about how he was on a nice little walk with sherlock, you know, the kind of walk where no one talks but it's really comfortable and you know only people who know each other Very Intimately like him and sherlock are that well together and i was just like aww

And then three seconds later I'm laughing my ass off about "how did you know my name" "IT WAS ON YOUR HAT"

SDHFDHHDFHFDS AND ALSO THAT TIME WHEN SHERLOCK JUST COMPLETELY GODDAMN MISREAD A SITUATION AND MADE UP THIS CONSPIRACY ABOUT LIKE A SECRET HUSBAND WHOS DEATH HAD BEEN FAKED AND THEN IT WAS JUST OH NO MY KID'S BLACK WHATEVER SHALL I DO

AND BECAUSE HE WAS SO EMBARASSED ABOUT IT HES LIKE WATSON IF I EVER MAKE UP SOME DUMB SHIT LIKE THAT AGAIN FEEL FREE TO CALL ME A FUCKING IDIOT and wow thats the most humble thing hes ever done

And then he starts saying shit like "i hope your marriage doesn't change anything between us" like damn shawty what is that supposed to mean /homosexual

I also love how bc watson is the only one writing it when sherlock is talking about something that happened to him in the past with quotes and stuff there's just like seven fucking quotation marks around each other im dying

SGBDFSNNDSGNSFNFDSDFS I THOUGHT THE SHOOTING THE WALL THING WAS A YUUMORI SPECIFIC THING NO HE JUST DOES IT FOR FUN AND NOT JUST ONCE LIKE HE MAKES ART OUT OF THE FUCKING BULLET HOLES HE WAS MAKING BULLET HOLE ART OF QUEEN VICTORIA PLEASE IM CRYING AND HUDSON WAS LIKE STOP??? SHOOTING THE WALL??? AND HES LIKE SHAWTY IM ALMOST DONE CALM DOWN

And when they make him clean his goddamn room im losing my mind why does he keep random shit from his old cases "in case it comes in handy" and "to remember that time i solved that thing" i am going to throw marie kondo at you

BASFBGHDFSHGFHFSDHHDSFDS IM NOT EVEN SURPRISED THIS HAPPENED BUT ITS SO FUNNY WHEN HE JUST GOT SO HYPERFIXATED ON A CASE THAT HE JUST FUCKING. WORKED ON IT 15 HRS A DAY FOR TWO MONTHS AND THEN GOT SO EXHAUSTED AND SICK THAT WATSON HAD TO TAKE CARE OF HIM AND TAKE HIM TO THE SEASIDE TO GET BETTER LIKE HE GOT VICTORIAN WOMAN DISEASE AND SOMEONE IMMEDIATELY FUCKING GOT MURDERED RIGHT NEXT DOOR AND WATSONS JUST LIKE. HHHHHHHHHHH FINE I SUPPOSE YOU JUST FUCKING KILL YOURSELF AGAIN ALL THIS IS FOR NOTHING IM TRYING SO GODDAMN HARD

I feel so bad for him, hes just trying so hard to keep this idiot alive and it is Not Working

Ok so like this is something Im still absolutely reeling over because it's like. it doesn't even seem real to me but the fact that Sherlock has multiple times just like gone to watson's house in the middle of the night, climbed up his goddamn wall and into his window, been like "you better not be busy" and started Talking

Like. Man's in his nightgown and just sees this fucker climbing in the window like "WATSON WATSON YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT I FOUND" and not just that. he's like "I only came in because you don't fucking sleep with your wife and it appears that you don't have any men in here either so I thought it was ok" LIKE ONE, WTF IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN SHERLOCK WHY WOULD HE HAVE OTHER MEN IN HIS BEDROOM SEHGIHO:EWOHO:GHE BUT TWO, WHYYY ARE THEY GAY

He didn't even fucking ask or say he was gonna do that no watson just has no clue when hes gonna show up and start remarking upon watson's appearance what even. homosexuals

Sherlock honestly just baffles me sometimes.

Oh, also, I read the one with Mycroft in it, and wow, is the man just as boring as he is in yuumori. That's just hilarious that sherlock is this absolutely insane man and then in contrast his older brother Pays Money to Sit In A Completely Silent Room and Read The Paper

It's so funny how he's like. Straight up even smarter than sherlock but no one gives a shit about him because he just. Is so fucking boring and antisocial

Like, we don't know anything about Sherlock's childhood but like. Part of me wants to think that it must have been absolutely insane and then Mycroft's rebellious stage was to just be fucking boring. Like. I would believe that. Just imagine that

I am going to make the final problem stuff its own post just cause I went absolutely insane over it but yea this was certainly an experience

[mego42]

I 100% agree about wanting more fanfic lists! I honestly think it's the best way to get a variety. Everybody has personal preferences, if someone, who mostly reads long, fluffy au Brio fic, is making recs, they're not likely to mention short, angsty, canon Brio (which is understandable and fair!) so ideally someone else, who does like those, would also do recs. I'm pretty sure I've read or at least tried the vast majority of Brio fics, but the recs often make me re-read the fic and author.

YAAASSSS!!! I mean like, okay, I v much get why people have issues with rec lists, and I def do not by any stretch endorse the idea that recs/rec lists should be considered anything other than one person sharing a think they liked, but to me a lot of the issues (the same fics/authors getting recced, feeling like awesome fics/authors are going unrecognized) can be solved by more reccing, not less. everyone’s got different taste and different stuff they look/read for and I am extremely pro sharing that.

Idk, I think about it like this: in a previous internet life I was a YA book blogger and I lived and died by recs from other bloggers whose taste and preferences I knew. I mean, you know, I’d check out a book bc the premise sounded interesting but literally the first thing I would do was go to Goodreads and look for a handful of people who tended to like the same books I did and see what they were saying about it bc that was the best way to get a good idea of if I wanted to give it a shot. Or, on the flip side, there were some people whose reviews I followed bc I knew we v much did not read for the same things so if they hated a book for X, Y and Z reasons, I was probs going to like it (one thing about book blogging is if you want to keep current, you do not have a lot of time to mess around, snap judgements are key but that’s a whole other thing and idk if it’s even relevant anymore bc that landscape has changed so much). 

ANYWAY, the point is, I got in the habit and now I do the same thing with fic bc, tbh, I don’t have a ton of time to read, esp not when I’m actively writing which, with the exception of the last week or two, I’ve been doing p non-stop since I got here. All of which to say is, I am desperately in favor of fic recs for purely selfish reasons, I need them! Give them to me!!! Please!!!!!

That said, I uh, am v bad at returning the favor and I recognize that (I think I’ve made what? two rec lists for this fandom?) so I will try to do better to live by my own, idek what this is, moving on and here are 10 recs not really thematically linked by anything other than I’ve read them and loved them and don’t think I’ve put any of them on one of my rec lists yet (and if I have, my blog is a trainwreck I cannot be expected to remember what’s on it LET ME LIVE):

The Goodest Boy by EnsignDisaster

There’s a key turning in the lock and Buddy rushes over to greet his Master excited for her to meet his new friends. The door opens and he dances around Master’s feet rejoicing on the fact that she’s made it home. It's been literally forever.

“Hey Buddy what’s wrong? Need to go potty? Need to pee-pee?”

“Nah he’s good we took him out.”

Master does something very unMasterlike, she drops all the food she’d brought in on the ground and screams. It’s a non traditional avant garde type of hello…Buddy loves it. Mostly because while Master taps furiously on her small light box and sits tense in the corner opposite his new friend Buddy can lick up the egg smashed on the hardwood floor.

Buddy! The! Dog! POV! no further explanation necessary. Technically WIP, but it covers the whole pilot in a way that could be read as standalone (THOUGH THAT WOULD V MUCH GIVE ME A SAD though, when did the show forget the Bolands had a dog? so maybe that’s a tragic casualty of canon, idk)

May The Moon’s Silvery Beams by @pynkhues

Emma hums in agreement, and Rio turns her around to sit her on the counter, grabbing one of the older looking boxes of muesli while she kicks her legs out, heels bumping back against the counter, watching him. He gropes around the inside of the box, finally just opting to pull the plastic cereal bag out and peering inside. He can’t quite keep the grin off his face when he sees the wad of cash lining the bottom. This woman kills him, she really does.

Then there’s a little face peering up beside him, trying to peek into the box.

“What is it?” she asks, and he tilts the box sideways so she can see inside.

The upside to not getting here until s3 is that old fic is new to me! Huzzah!! Idk how many of y’all have already read this on but if you haven’t I highkey recommend. Extremely cute take on what if Emma woke up when Rio and came by to collect his/Beth’s/whoever's money during the shutdown. Cannot believe I’m reccing kidfic. Witchcraft!!!!!!

Maybe You’re My Fantasy by ohmisterjapan

He fucking loves the involuntary. It speaks to how he likes to unlock chaos and walk away. He's been called a control freak before and it felt like such a misunderstanding of him - he's all about self control but he doesn't want to control others. It's more that he enjoys revealing to them how little they can control themselves. It's more that he likes to stand still in the eye of someone else's storm and pick coldly through the wreckage.

Another oldie but a goodie. This fic is more like an extended character study (first chapter Rio POV, second chapter Beth) and I LIVE FOR THIS KIND OF SHIT. I really really really love the take on both characters, it really digs in and pulls out some nuances that made me sit and think about my own read of them and I love it.

A Shock Of Blue by mintletters16

“You don’t look very well. Would you… like me to get you a glass of water or something?”

Her voice is low but smooth, laced with a softness that cuts straight though to his core. Strawberry blonde locks fall gently just above the pair of magnets freezing him in place.

He can still feel the chaos tearing through his veins - emanating from the gold plated gun stuffed in his waistband - and suddenly he can’t be here anymore. Can’t meet this wide-eyed gaze that’s been locked on his for the past God-knows-how-long anymore.

Can’t see blue alive and concerned when he just left it cold and void somewhere in oblivion.

She’s looking at him like he’s on the brink of madness. He thinks maybe he is.

Apparently, it’s backlist rec day over here and I’m not sorry. This one is another technical WIP but the chapter works as a standalone (BUT if the author decided to return to it I WOULD NOT BE MAD). It’s a what if Beth and Rio met pre-canon and it works so!!! well!!!! The tension and fascination and build are all *chef’s kiss* plus the writing is gorgeous and lyrical and ugh, I love it.

for a moment we were strangers by openhearts

“We got stuff,” Rio motions with a nod to the backpack Beth hadn’t noticed when they arrived hanging on the back of one of the chairs at the island.

She swallows and turns back to the dishes, realizing Rio apparently means to sleep there , assuming the place isn’t bugged.  Or for some kind of cover story if it is.  She turns and fixes Rio with a narrow-eyed stare, studying his face, the corner of his jaw especially prominent from the angle she’s looking up at him.  He’s methodical about drying each dish and setting it back on the rack, maddeningly ignoring her hard stare, so when he goes to take the next plate from her hands she grips it tightly and gets his attention.

“Hey.”

“What you on about now?” he asks, irritated.

It gets her gut uneasy, how he’s just . . . there, settling in, in ways he never had before, no matter how nonchalantly he would let himself in through her locked doors.  

“This is,” Beth tries, failing, to find words for it, “. . . it’s weird .”

This one takes place post 204 and Rio and Marcus end up spending a long weekend staying with Beth and Emma for reasons (that work, for the record, I’m just not trying to summarize rn) and it’s domestic and cute but honestly my fav part of it is how weirded out Beth is by how easily they slip into sync. The story does an excellent job balancing where they are in canon (uneasy post-sex truce) with a snapshot of what they could be if they got over themselves (HA! as if) and Beth is DEEPLY FREAKED which makes her slow slide into realizing she could maybe sort of kind of oh shit like it/him??? that much more satisfying.

Not So Careful by @bensonstablers

When he doesn’t answer, her eyes go to his but he’s too busy watching the letter opener which is still pressed against the back of his hand. Curiously, Beth runs it up his arm, careful not to press too hard, and smiles a little as he shivers. Pulling her leg up onto the bed, she shuffles closer to him before pressing the tip of the sword to his chest and slowly circling his left nipple with it, being sure not to get too close.

“You ain’t gotta be that careful.”

And when she lifts her eyes to meet his, he’s got that look. The one that always makes a lump form in her throat and for her to fall back into bed with him without a single thought of what they have to do that day. Only thing is, this time they’ve got nothing to do for the rest of the weekend and well, staying in bed the entire time had seemed like an appealing idea so she allows herself to give in a little to that look.

It makes me EXTREMELY SAD that knifeplay ranked so low on the kink survey so I’m gonna need y’all to check out this V V V EXCELLENT example of it and come back and tell me you’re sorry and you voted wrong. I am v reasonable what are you talking about.

love (where it wasn’t supposed to be) by @lilliloves

"You know what I can't stand?" Rio asks, stepping closer. It's a rhetorical question but he pauses for a second and watches Dean sniff, watches a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, watches him shift on both his feet as he contemplates making a run for it.

"A guy who don’t realize how good he's got it." Rio continues, looking Dean up and down in disgust. "A guy that will literally fuck up a good thing just to get his dick wet."

"Yeah, well I can't stand a guy who can have anyone he wants but chooses the married woman he's not entitled to.” Dean shoots back. "And I really can't stand the fact that you're always in the room with us even when you aren't there."

And who brings him into the room Dean hmmmmm????? Jk, jk (or am I). In this one Rio catches Dean out on the town with another woman (bc of course he is) and tries to call him out but whoops! gets called out himself. I really love the like, idk, undercurrent of wistful regret in this fic. I love Dean straight up calling Rio out on his feelings (spoilers but there’s an exchange right after this one that made me straight up holler), and, you know, obvs I am here for Rio making Dean feel like an ass. 

Hell Is Other People by makemanybraver

Rio: We're in Hell, Elizabeth! If you don't think you belong here, then repent! Don't fuck everyone in the room in hopes that you get to go out!

Beth: Why do I have to repent?!

Rio: Because you did some fucked up shit in your life, Elizabeth! You keep doing fucked up shit here, too! And you think you don't belong here!

Beth [screaming at the top of her lungs]: Because I don't!

This fic is existentially bonkers and I love it. It’s the kind of experimental format/homage/what have you kind of thing that I L O V E. Based on No Exit by Jean-Paul Sartre, Beth, Rio, and Fitzpatrick are stuck together in a room in hell for all eternity. What more do you need, honestly.

Working On Things by odenkirk

Unknown Hold up, Elizabeth. I'm really thinkin about you here.

Beth turned her face into the pillow, effectively suffocating herself for a moment, but thinking it was a good trade off for the way the cool silk of her pillowcase chilled her skin.

She lifted her head to glance at the still sleeping Dean before replying.

Beth I'm thinking about you too. But this can't happen.

She wanted him to know she wanted him, but she also thought that admitting she was already there would save Rio from trying to convince her. She wanted him, but morals had to win just once in a while.

YES this is technically Beth/Dean while also being Beth/Rio BUT it’s also sort of Rio/Dean and I am HERE FOR THE DIVERSITY OF SHIPPING leave me alone who asked you.

Five Times He Knew What She Was Thinking, and One Time He Didn't by JoeyLee

Aight, so tell ‘em I was hittin’ it. Said deliberately blunt, eyes locked on her face the whole time, just to see those blue eyes widen. She looked so shocked that he almost laughed, so he softened it teasingly just to keep her going. Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, tell ‘em we were makin’ love.

Then he just watched her, just watched her face, just fucking fascinated. Her lips were parted and her eyes were big as saucers, and…there it was. Before she could look away flustered, he watched the thought go through her mind. Him and her together.

He wondered what she was picturing or where. Them in the back seat, her bed, a motel?  Her on top or him from behind or his face between her legs?

Whatever it was, the blush started immediately, and he watched it bloom out from her cheeks to her hair. Then she was tearing her eyes away to gulp a little.  But it didn’t knock her down for long before she was looking back. And then, wait, was she actually asking him how to go about telling a fed they were fucking?

Okay this is another technical WIP but works as a standalone. I am absolutely fucking feral for character POV takes of canon scenes and this is a supremely excellent take on Rio POV of some notable scenes from the pilot through 204. Imo it brilliantly captures Rio’s voice and I love it a lot. 

HEADS UP I am absolute shite at tracking ao3 to tumblr unless people have specifically told me someone’s ao3/tumblr name SO if you recognize any of the non-tumblr authors on please lmk so I can tag them and YES I recognize that I am asking y’all to do things for me throughout this entire post and I’M SORRY OKAY I’M A WHOLE ASS MESS LOVE YOU BYE

[lvnatiq]

Cheers to the mess pt.1 |

Nicky Valentino x Reader

a/n: Hello, my love. So this was based on the idea of Jealous!Nicky Valentino. Let me know if you have any suggestions or questions about anything concerning my writing or Nicholas Valentino because my heart, soul and ass belongs to him truly. By the way, I proofread for the first time so make a wish while you’re at it lmao.

-Italic phrases in quotation marks are indicating readers inner monologue, meanwhile, words in italic are used to emphasize the meaning of the word itself-

warnings: usage of inappropriate language, slight angst.

The night is still young, the speakeasy is filled with the late-night conversations of people with humorous expressions and the delightful sound of the jazz music. You, on the other hand, curiously explored your surroundings as the sweet and sour taste of your booze lingered on the tip of your tongue. You asked Ralph to let you have some time with yourself while you were waiting for Nicky to come. You two spoke on the phone, arranging your rendez-vous, approximately two hours ago. Now, there you were sitting at a casual table in the speakeasy for an hour waiting for your sweetheart. Worried that something might've happened to him.

"Where is he? I hope the meeting didn't take a turn for the worst."

You thought to yourself as you tapped your fingers against the wooden material of the table, letting your anxiety get the best of you. Your eyes focused on the entrance gate of the speakeasy, wishing for him to stroll in at that moment. Today seemed like it wasn't your lucky day as your wishes are not being granted. The feeling of loneliness soon turned to utter boredom. The more bored you got, the more attractive the thought of losing yourself at the bar became.

"If I am about to let my stress romance it's way into giving me a nervous breakdown, at least I should get it a nice drink. It would be rude of me not to."

Your desire for a Manhattan led you to take a couple of steps towards the bar. Settling down on the stool, you slowly took off your gloves. The feeling of warmth left your fingertips, the cold surface of the glass table taking its place. The bartender took his shaker as he made his way towards your spot. You opened your mouth, eager to spill the magical name of your remedy.

"A Manhattan-"

"A Singapore Sling for the lady."

Your words were cut short by the silhouette of a stranger located behind your stool. This moment felt too familiar for your liking, almost like a Deja Vu. You slowly turned your head towards the unknown figure as they casually sat down beside you.

"Very rude of me to not introduce myself."

He said, extending his hand in your direction. The bartender's eyes followed the young man's gesture, holding an unreadable expression. You could feel the unusual tension in the air, nevertheless, you remained unbothered. Looking at his hand and then meeting his gaze, you extended your hand for a handshake. Your attempt went unnoticed as he gently turned your hand placing his lips on top of it.

"Matteo Bianchi."

The moment Matteo said his name, the bartender dropped his shaker, practically spilling whatever was inside of it. Shaken by the sound you averted your gaze to the bartender. His hands were shaking, hurriedly trying to clean up the mess he created. He glanced at you, his eyes had panic written all over them as if he was trying to tell you to be cautious, making you even more curious.

Unaffected by his gesture you slowly pulled your hand back as you directed your gaze back to the drink menu.

"Pleasure to meet you, Matteo."

You said, paying him no attention what so ever. Matteo laughed under his breath as he studied your figure. Your drink came into sight, you were still upset at not having your Manhattan.

"Where are you, Nicholas ?"

"I'm impressed that I managed to choose a drink that suited your aura well, miss...?"

You didn't want to give him your name but the reaction that the bartender gave at his name made you reevaluate your choices. Not wanting to cause trouble to anyone including yourself you took a sip from your drink as you responded.

"(y/n)."

You paused as you turned to him, letting your curiosity do the talking.

"How come this drink suits my aura well, Mr. Bianchi ?"

He smiled as he lifted his drink pointing it at your way.

"You seem like a bittersweet woman. Just like the drink."

You laughed, entertained by his way of using words, you decided to let yourself loose by following his game. Observing his looks for the first time, you realized that he was quite charming. His face reminded you of Paul Newman.

You let your thoughts wander as two women with enchanting appearances passed by greeting Matteo with flirtatious looks, giving you a death stare on the side.

"Alright, you seem pretty involved with bittersweet women."

Matteo laughed throwing his head back.

"Enough about bittersweet women-"

"Oh, so you want me out of here? Because I'll make it happen."

Your attempts at escaping failed as he caught you by your waist. Making you feel inevitably uncomfortable.

"Matteo, please-"

"Hands off."

The voice of the man you craved for the entire day has finally appeared. Nicky's harsh tone made Matteo take a step back. Then Matteo opened his arms wide, followed by his sarcastic tone.

"Man of the hour, Nicholas Valentino to whom do I owe the pleasure?"

Nicky placed his hand at the small of your back as he pulled you closer to him. His grip on you was tight, making you feel safer than before.

"I thought that we were supposed to meet next week."

Nicky said his eyes burning through Matteo's skull, filled with enough rage to kill him right on the spot.

"I need to settle it now, I have a meeting with Romano tomorrow. You don't want him to get the deal do you?"

Matteo said unconcernedly. You could hear Nicky curse under his breath. You placed your hand on his giving it a squeeze, trying to reassure him.

"Alright then, let's get this over with."

Nicky let his hand loose as he started to walk to the booth alongside Matteo. Appalled by his behavior, you started to follow their steps. They sat down and you moved to sit beside Nicky. Noticing that you followed them Nicky turned to you lowering himself as he whispered in your ear.

"Toots, would you mind giving us some space while you treat yourself at the bar?"

You looked at him, getting angrier each second passing by. Being kept in the dark wasn't something that you fancied.

"Excuse me? Are we really doing this again Nicky?" You said, your tone exposing your frustration. Your mind brings up memories of your first time in this speakeasy, where Nicky left you stranded because of business. But now you are a part of the Valentino family, so what was the problem.

His expression softens as he takes in a deep breath. You tried your best to understand what made him so uptight.

"You two... are you together?"

Matteo's voice made you snap out of your thoughts as you turned to Nicky, who was definitely not in a good state of mind seeing that he froze.

"Nicholas-"

"We're not together."

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. The waves of shock washed over you as you dropped your gaze on your hands. The thought of leaving right now seemed like a good idea but something inside of you was telling you to dig this situation deeper. This wasn't Nicky, you had to find out what was disturbing him so profoundly.

"Still that doesn't explain your overprotective response, Nicholas. Nonetheless, I am glad if Venus is single by any means."

"Let's get this venture over with, shall we Matteo?"

You wouldn't be lying if you said that this was the first time you saw Nicky this aggressive. He looked like he was so close to shot Matteo dead. You didn't say a word throughout their conversation. Patiently waiting for Nicky's breaking point.

The business they fussed about didn't seem skeptical at all. It was the usual, large amounts of illegal cash transactions and exchanging men for personal protection. Still, your questions remained unanswered. So you decided to follow up with plan B.

"If that's all, it's time for us to leave. Buona serata, Matteo."

Nicky said as he stood up. You, on the other hand, remained unruffled as you grasped your glass tightly completely ignoring him.

"So, Mr. Bianchi, you and Nicky seem to have a history. Do you two go way back? Based on something other than business-related, of course."

Upon hearing your voice Nicky slowly sat back. Taking in a deep breath, he averted his eyes to the bar. Trying to avoid Matteo's gaze.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?"

"No, he did not."

Matteo let out a breathy laugh as he took a cigar out of the silver case placed in front of him. Nicky's hand sneaked up on top of yours under the table, holding it firmly. You intertwined your fingers with his.

"Have you ever heard of The Count of Monte Cristo, (y/n)?"

"Alexandre Dumas, how can I not? One of my favorite novels."

"You become even more interesting by the second, my dear."

Nicky started to pull on his collar to get it loose. His grip on your hand gets even tighter. You can feel the distress radiating over him but you had no choice, he wasn't planning on opening up to you when he should've.

"Our situation is similar to Dantès, Mondego, and Mercédès love triangle. Nicky thinks that I am the Mondego of our scenario."

Finally, it sinks in. Still searching for more clarity you ask,

"You betrayed him, by stealing his lover--"

"Aha! That's the part I am trying to justify for the past five years. I didn't steal her- Minchia! I didn't know that she and Nicky had a thing. I mean she ran after him for quite some time but Nicholas didn't give a shit. How could I know?"

"Matteo cut the bullshit."

Nicky said, eventually joining to your conversation. You most definitely understood the situation at last. At this point it wasn't important whether or not if Matteo was right or wrong, Nicky was insecure at the fact that there might be a possibility of such a thing happening. He couldn't take risks when it comes to you, so he just acted like you meant nothing to him as if that would make Matteo uninterested.

Now that your worries came to an end, your only interest was to get Nicky all riled up.

"I think I heard enough."

Both of them stopped their bickering, turning their appalled gaze towards your direction.

"It looks like we are dragging out our dirty laundries. Well then, let me do my part."

Your devilish smirk took over as your playful aura filled the air.

"So, there is this guy, or more like this utterly, unbelievably handsome fella that makes my heart flutter."

"Oh? Tell me more Venus."

You focused your gaze on Matteo, eyeing him from head to toe. Knowing damn well that Nicky was watching your every move.

"He is compassionate, determined, enthusiastic, fearless, hard-working, kind, loyal, and everything that only a real man can be."

"Gesù Cristo! Who is this man? Are you sure that he isn't just a piece of your beautiful imagination?"

You laughed at Matteo's words. You were savoring every second of this mess, meanwhile, Nicky was chugging his whiskey on rocks.

"I would say that he is a gift from the gods, but unfortunately he is lacking something very important."

"He must've stolen the devil's dime. What does such a man lack that made you back up?"

You looked at the pair of hazel eyes intently watching you. You took a couple of seconds, staring adoringly into his beautiful eyes. You caught yourself getting lost in the honey hue of them. His feelings dripping from his glance, telling a story that only his eyes could tell.

"He is not honest."

You said without separating your eyes from Nicky's. Matteo raised his eyebrows, looking at Nicky and then back at you.

"Do I know this fella?"

"I don't know. All I know is that I like my men bare, in various ways."

Nicky laughed under his breath, placing his hand on top of your thigh.

"Oh my, do you?"

You grasped his tie pulling him to yourself, your lips almost touching his.

"You have no idea-"

Matteo cleared his throat,

"I should get going, you wouldn't want your girl falling for me. I know that my charming nature could cause trouble for a lot of people."

He said as he gave you a wink,

"Get lost Matteo."

Nicky hissed as Matteo approached you taking your hand in his giving it a goodbye kiss.

"Pleasure to meet you, (y/n). I hope that one day you can introduce me to the guy that got you head over heels."

He said jokingly as he turned to leave. Nicky slowly leaned in to kiss you but you stopped him midway.

"I don't kiss random men that have nothing to do with me, Mr. Valentino."

He gave you a smirk that summarized his plans for tonight.

"I might have nothing to do with you, but I certainly have a lot to do to you toots."

You took the last sip from your now empty glass and lifted it in the air.

"Cheers to the mess, my darling."

Vocabulary:

Minchia: in this context used as fuck, as exclamation of surprise.

Gesù Cristo!: Jesus christ!

Buona serata: “have a good evening”

[ma-gic-gay]

Death had always been a finite concept. For both of them, presumably, but especially for Carly. Death was something she had to deal with far too regularly for her tastes (comes with the territory when you have a habit of marrying mobsters), despite her hatred of it.

Shootings, she could handle. And did, shockingly well. Despite the fact she couldn't handle being in a stable situation for more than a day, she was great in a crisis.

Of course, the fact she had Jason there was helpful. She felt unsafe, she called him and it was like she had her own personal body guard. It was, in a very strange way, nice to know he wouldn't hesitate to kill for her and has done it repeatedly in the past.

The deaths of the people who tried to kill her (or him, especially him- she prayed those bastards got the worst treatment they could) were the only ones she could handle.

It's a bit ironic she got killed from a shooting, three hours and twenty three minutes after Jason died, in a weird way. She always said she'd kill for him (realistically she knew he'd lose his shit if she ever did that because he's overprotective and hasn't taught her how to use a gun), and that's exactly what she did. He got shot right in front of her, she grabbed his gun while he was yelling at her not to and shot the person.

Slight problem though, she too got shot. Whoopsie daisies.

Getting shot fucking hurt. She was in and out of consciousness when she was at the hospital and no one would tell her about Jason's condition. They were married, for fuck's sakes, why the fuck wasn't anyone telling her how her husband was doing?!

Eventually, someone (probably Monica, she can't remember) told her he was dead. They got to him too late, they said, he'd been doa and their best efforts hadn't revived him.

After hearing that, she couldn't live with herself. He got shot because Vince was trying to shoot her and off he went to be her hero and make everything okay and he got killed. One phone call and he was at the Metro Court, hanging out with her and keeping watch when he noticed Vince in the parking lot and went out there to confront him. Vince pointed a gun at Carly and, of course, since Jason's a self sacrificing person, he died.

Which meant she was directly responsible for his death and that rocked her to her very core. She'd failed him. After twenty five years, she failed him. Even he'd have to admit this one. There was no spin on this (and she'd heard some strange ones over the years) for how she'd be able to live with herself after she failed him. It wasn't like she'd done something stupid, no, she got him killed. Carly knew he'd do something, especially since Vince was a dick, and she told him. Did he deserve to know? Yes. But only after she'd reassured his overprotective streak she'd be fine and he didn't have to kill anyone else for her.

According to something she'd heard from the doctors, in whatever fucking limbo this was, Carly had died of a heart attack. Likely brought on by stress. Bullets were fine but hearing of Jason's death killed her.

Yup, makes sense. Well, she'll be able to apologize for all of eternity once she gets to wherever she's going. Even after he forgives her (which, she's being honest, will happen as soon as they see each other), she's going to apologize and apologize.

Ooh, she gets to see Sonny and Morgan too! Her son and husband and best friend for all of eternity. What could be better?

There's something that vaguely looks like an angel and she notices it drags her up. Huh, guess she's going to heaven. Makes sense, Carly's a fairly good person. She's not a terrible one.

Except when she gets there she only finds Morgan and Courtney (Courtney, oh how she missed her), no Jason anywhere. Where the hell was he? Avoiding a party, probably. She has got to get him to go out more, especially now that nothing can probably happen. What are the rules of death?

"Where's Jason?" Carly asks after greeting the pair. They stare blankly until she asks again, "Where is he? He's here, right? I was told he's dead!"

Courtney's the first one to be stunned out of her shock. "Carly, he, um, didn't make the cut."

"For what? Give me that list, I'm adding his name at the very top. Where the fuck is he?" She exclaims. He's here, he's got to be here.

"You're aware of his job, right?" Is she aware of his job, of course she is!

"Yes, Courtney, it's why we got married. Where the hell is he? Or Sonny, or Mike!"

"Mike's taking a nap and Sonny's not dead." What?! "Or, if he is, he didn't make the cut either." Didn't make the cut for what? Carly will scheme, steal, seduce, lie and cheat go get those two up here with her, where the fuck are they?

"Because of Jason's job and the amount of people he killed, he didn't make the cut to heaven. He's in hell." Is it possible to die twice? She might just do that. He's in hell, which is a place for bad people! Her hero is in hell.

She's gonna kill someone. "I'm not perfect! None of us are perfect, I killed someone! Why the hell aren't we down there? He died defending me!"

"Shocking," Morgan says dryly. "Jason killed people for a living. He was a mobster."

"And I'm an accessory to all of that! I lead the mob for a week or two!" Carly exclaims. "He's a good person, we know that."

"We're not in charge of the decisions, Carly," Courtney attempts to comfort her best friend. It's a nice attempt. "That's for people with a lot more clout than us. If it was up to either of us, I promise he'd be here but you'll never see him again."

Never see him again? Oh hell no. "Is there any way to get sent down to hell with him?" This is impulsive and reckless and Jason wouldn't encourage it but she's got less care. She needs to see her best friend again, goddammit."Some paperwork I can file, some people's husband's I can seduce?"

"Someone can submit you for reevaluation."

"Great! Is Emily here?" Emily hates her, she'll surely want to help!

"Somewhere, yeah. Why?"

"Emily hates me. Can't blame her. Anyways, look, I want to help her write my reevaluation. I've ruined a lot of lives."

"Which Jason has always helped you feel better about."

"That's because he's my best friend, Morgan."

The next few weeks are spent making sure every single one of her transgressions is on the list and resubmitting her,,, whatever the hell it's called, Emily never gave details.

So it's really not a surprise when she's dragged down to hell by some gross creature, waving goodbye to her son and Courtney and sister in law (that's a weird thing to think about).

And when she gets there, it's just like a darker version of heaven. It's the same fucking place (away from the fire), just more her color palette. Weird.

"Excuse me, where's Jason Morgan?" She asks the creature who dragged her down here. "I was informed he'd be down here."

A shrug is all she gets in response. Well then, she's able to roll with the punches and searches up and down for him, eventually finding him in a room without decorations or anything but basic necessities.

She's got some decorating on her hands.

Carly walks right through the half opened door (he really didn't lock it? Weirdo) and gets the response of, "Get out."

"Don't expect me to start knocking just because we're dead," she quips, a smile on her face. Knocking is overrated. He looks normal and as he registers what's going on, he gets all squinty.

Once he actually realizes it's her, she's already half attacked him in a hug that he reciprocates. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Little bit of bargaining, Emily's assistance and voila! You'd be amazed at how many bad things I've done. Everyone sends their love, of course. Are there any stores down here? This room is so boring," she changes the subject.

"No, I mean why are you dead? You're supposed to be alive."

"I died three hours and twenty three minutes after you. Heart attack. Monica told me about you dying. No one else would." That was a very bad time when he was dead and she wasn't.

"Does this mean-"

"No, you are not responsible for my death. If anything, I'm responsible for yours. I'm sorry, more than you'll ever know," Carly tells him, eyes welling up with tears.

"You're not responsible. I got shot. It happens." Way too nonchalant for death.

"Because you were defending me, like always. Seriously, take a nice vacation off of that and start using your survival instincts. I don't have Emily to help me this time if I need to transfer afterlives."

"I was defending the business."

"Bullshit. I told you Vince threatened me and you already planned to kill him. You saw your opportunity and instead of shooting him, you got shot and died. This is my fault, 100%, and I will not let you make me feel better about this. You could've patched things up with Britt, hung out with a bunch of people but no, you had to die protecting me. Take a week off of being my hero, please."

"I'm not going to do that. The last time I thought about it, you took over the business."

"Well I can't just ask you to forgive me, so take a day off."

"You'll get kidnapped. And I don't hold you responsible because it was my choice to defend you and my choice to want to kill Vince."

"You're overprotective and it's nice but not when it kills you."

"You spent twenty five years running off every woman in my life because you were convinced they'd hurt me, you hated a ton of people because they did something to me and you almost committed several felonies. And I'm overprotective," he rolls his eyes.

"Not the point, first off and second, you've killed and kidnapped for me. In a very fucked up way, it's sweet. And you totally ran off the men in my life!"

"How did I do that?"

"By being the only person I can depend on. I don't know, look, they've all- except for Sonny, most of the time- hated you because you intimidated them. So you did the same thing, just not on purpose."

"Then it's not the same thing."

"How did we get so off topic? I'm sorry for being the reason you're dead. Do you forgive me?" Strange sentences.

"You're not why I'm dead, I made that choice-"

"You chose to die?"

"I meant the choice to jump in front of you."

"Which was instinctual, you've always protected me."

"Might have to do that even more down here. There's some real creeps."

"I really don't think they'll care that much. But okay."

"Vince is here."

"No revenge."

"He killed you and I'm just supposed to sit here and ignore that he did that?!"

"Maybe we can talk this all out."

"Carly, what part of this aren't you understanding? He killed you. I hurt him, that's how this works, so he knows better than to mess with you."

"Or we could go shop for decor. I'll pick out nice stuff, come on let's go!"

"I'm not going shopping. I'm planning revenge."

"It'll be safer if you're there with me."

"I hate it when you're right."

"Love you too."

"Love you."

The end fuckers :)

oh it's beautiful. thank you for this

[rgrettes]

heyy, I hope I'm not bothering but I've seen that you used to post about faberry and faberry fics like Shafd, and since I'm trying to find some faberry fanfics to read, could you please recommend me some of your favorites? Thank you :)

OKAY so this took me a whole lot longer than anticipated because I didn’t want to make it be like 500 fics long! But here, in no particular order, are my top 10 faberry fanfics! [excluding SHAfD of course bc whomever asked this definitely knows SHAfD!]I will be including trigger warnings/content warnings! Please be sure that you can handle the subjects before reading the content! Be safe and put your mental and physical wellbeing before a work of fiction!

10. Dirty Little Secret by patchesofink

Chapters: 77/77 [208k]

This fic would actually happen to be the first faberry fic that I ever read. I felt my little 15 year old self cry several times throughout this fic. It’s what first got me into writing fanfic, because I wanted to write as well as this author! There is a content warning so please be careful reading it if you are sensitive to topics mentioned!

Rachel has a secret and Quinn has figured it out - but will Quinn use this knowledge to exact revenge on Rachel for telling Finn that Puck was really the father or will she use her own experiences to help. WARNING - language and sexual content, r*pe.

9. I’ll Be by stix04

Chapters: 20/20 [330k]

God I was such a sucker for fake dating au’s as a young teenager and I’m most definitely a sucker for them now. This one I didn’t read right when it came out, I didn’t actually find it until it had finished but it still makes my top 20 because it’s just too good not to talk about!

Can Quinn pretend to be in love with Rachel just to get out of Lima? Can Rachel pretend to love Quinn so she's not so lonely in New York? And what happens when both girls realize they're no longer pretending?

8. Long Way to Happy by patchesofink 

Chapters: 42/42 [104k]

This is the sequel to Dirty Little Secret and makes the list for being just as good as the original. This author is so talented and the story just resonates in my soul! 

warnings for sexual content, language, violence and potential ptsd triggers!

Sequel to Dirty Little Secret. Rachel still has some healing to do as well with dealing with becoming a mom. Quinn has her own issues to deal with. Can their fledgling relationship deal with the ups and downs of life and cope with senior year? Quinn learns to open up and Rachel deals with motherhood and not letting her past define her. It's a Long Way to Happy.

7. Leather Jackets and Bad Coffee by antonius

Chapters: 11/?? [75k] [has not updated since 2018 :(]

Bikers, 50′s style diners, and good girl/bad girl pairing. Literally who could ask for anything more? I’m super sad this one hasn’t updated in a long time but it’s still such a fun read!!

warning for violence!

Ninety miles and nearly two hours from the heart of New York City, just off of PA-33 North, is the little town of Belfast, Pennsylvania: population 1,257. Right outside the city limits sits Moe's, a small 24-hour diner whose newest waitress, Rachel Berry, has taken her best friend Kurt's advice and started a calm summer temp job away from the hustle-and-bustle of busy city life in order to rest up before her final year at NYADA.During her very first midnight shift, she encounters a group of rowdy regulars led by a pink-haired woman with piercing hazel eyes. Quinn Fabray is the leader of the Skanks, a small but well-known local biker gang that doesn't take shit from anyone.So began the strangest summer of Rachel Berry's life.

6. Talk by saintdyke

Chapters: 17/? [43k] [last updated may 2019]

This is another one I’m sad hasn’t updated in a while! This honestly stole my heart to a point that in the time I found it in mid April 2019 and June of 2019 I have re-visited the fic 105 times, rereading it at least half as many as that. I’m really hoping the author comes back to the fic, because it was keeping me on the edge of my seat.

warning for violence, abuse mentions and depictions, homophobia and ptsd triggers!

(Previously titled Grease Stains, Starry Skies) Famous actress Rachel Berry’s car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. A pretty blonde with a blue truck rescues her from the side of the road, and just so happens to own an Auto Repair shop in town. Quinn is frustrating and mysterious, and Rachel is just as stubborn. Together, they start a revolution.

5. Just off the Key of Reason by iamapanda

Chapters: 30/30 [129k]

This one is another absolute classic in the Faberry fandom, and is another fic that has stuck with me throughout the years! It has a fantastic softer take on Quinn that I truly appreciated because everyone back in the early years of the fandom would make her so angry and bitter and she’s just so soft in some interpretations

Rachel Berry is a successful Broadway star with a new roommate, the very odd, naive Quinn Fabray. It starts with a note on the fridge and a childishly scrawled doodle of an elephant. Everybody has a little crazy in them.

4. Still off the Key of Reason by iamapanda

Chapters: 37/37 [185k]

The sequel to Just off the Key of Reason! Still as soft and as crazy! I can’t mention one without having the other in the list as well! I can’t explain how it feels to look at the ff.net pages after so long, my heart is transported back to 2011 and I’m sitting on my bed after I’m supposed to be in bed. I miss the days where I could just spend time reading these fics and not having adult responsibilities.

Quinn is thundering her way through vet school. Rachel is enlightening the west coast with her talent. The story continues with a wedding, dogs in tuxedos, and Pooh Bear vows. Crazy never fades.

3. A Million Miles of Fun by Jade8Devlin

Chapters: 12/12 [103k]

This one is a little different from the last ones! It isn’t my favorite because of its literary genius, but because of how fun and out there it is! It’s concept is fresh and dark and something I honestly didn’t expect to see but it quickly grew to be a favorite for me!

warning for violence, abuse, mentions of murder! the whole story revolves around The Unholy Trinity + Rachel murdering Quinn’s family so please take that into consideration!

And in Lima, Ohio, a man and woman were killed earlier today during what is believed to be a home invasion. Russell Fabray was last seen leaving Gas'N'Go at two o'clock; his wife, Judith, from a grocery story an hour earlier. Police are linking the double homicide to the area's recent surge in breaking and entering – though these appear to be the first fatalities. The victims are survived by their daughters; Quinn and Stacey."Jessalyn Briggs shuffles the papers on her desk, clearing her throat. The somber expression on her face seems to float off her as she turns towards camera 3."Otis-the-Otter finishes today's news headlines as the little critter that could. Abandoned by his mother and found foraging for scraps in the Nelson family's garbage cans, Otis has proven; if you can't teach an old dog new tricks, teach them to an otter! Otis placed second at this year's Ohio Dog Show after last year's well-documented struggle by the Nelson family to allow Otis to be included. Well done Otis, we here at Channel 43 salute you.

2. The Silence of Silence by your.kat

Chapters: 31/31 [135k]

This one... I can’t describe why I liked it, I just liked it.

warning for mental health, and trauma [possible others, please read with caution]

Quinn and Rachel meet at Haverbrook under unusual circumstances. Why is Rachel silent? And why does Quinn care? "You can hear," Quinn said simply, "but can you speak?"; "Yes," Rachel signed. "I can speak. But silence is a friend who will never betray."

1. Kissing Quinn Fabray by vondrunkaton

Chapters: 6/6 [45k]

This one just makes me super warm and fuzzy inside. I don’t think I can say it’s entirely changed my life but it’s just so soft and i love it

Quinn comforts Rachel after Finn says something oafish. Rachel is surprised by how sweet Quinn is. There's also some making out in delicious detail. Fluffy getting together fic.

I am super open to talking about more fics I love/like and other pairings! This was a ton of fun to talk about and sent me down memory lane! I went searching for two hours on a vague memory of a fic that I think has been deleted by now. But if anyone wants to help me track it down! Hit me up and I’ll give you the details!

[orange-waterfalls]

All At Once

Illinois x male!reader

@just-bts-trash-00 ty for the request + prompt!

A/N: OK SO i was looking through my docs and found this like halfway done??? And it's pretty much what was asked??? So I used it and edited a shit ton out so it wouldn't be too long but it's still pretty fuckin long. Rated T for cursing and a bit of blood and reference to sex in like,,, 1 sentence. This is probably more angst than fluff but,,, I did my best. I'm ngl I might write a part 2 if I really feel like it but no promises.

Asks and submissions are open!

Word Count: 2.8k

--

You had fallen asleep in a cave Illinois had managed to trap you two in, and you were being rescued by the time you woke up. Some guys in the town over got worried and started looking for you. They heard you and Illinois down there, and got some tools to get you two out. They had made a hole in the rock and threw some rope down to pull you up. Illinois grabbed onto the rope and held his arm out to you. You crossed your arms. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"It'll be quicker if you just hold on to me instead of us going one at a time," he explained. You didn't move, wanting to be petty, but you saw the logic and decided it was smart. You walked over and held onto him and the rope as you were pulled up.

"This is nice, don't you think?" He purred. You scoffed. As soon as you two were on solid ground, you pushed away from him.

"Aw, come on…" he chuckled, "you're not still mad, are you?" You ignored him. A woman walked up to you. She was holding a notepad and a pencil.

"Hello there! I'm--" she began.

"I don't talk to press," you monotoned. Since you and Illinois go on a heck of a lot of adventures, and find a lot of treasure, you started to become a bit famous. You weren't having any of it. You headed over your car. You got in the driver's side and waited for Illinois.

After about 10 minutes of Illinois not being there, you looked back.

There the bastard was, flirting with a reporter who had tried to talk to you. Her notepad was away, so you knew it wasn't professional. You cursed and threw the car door open. You walked up to them, and they didn't seem to notice. They were too busy making flirty comments and innuendos. You rolled your eyes.

"Hey, Illinois, you mind if we head back? I'd like to sleep in a bed after being trapped underground for 12 hours," you growled.

"12 hours? It wasn't that long, you'll be fine," he brushed you off and kept talking to the reporter. Your hand twitched and you curled it into a fist. You pulled him away from her.

"Illinois get in the goddamn car right fucking now or I'm leaving without you," you warned. He raised an eyebrow at you. You glared back at him. He snorted, but stayed there with you. He acted like a dick, but deep down he did care about your feelings.

"Sorry, ma'am. Adventure calls," he saluted a goodbye to her and walked with you to the car. You got back into the driver's seat and he got in the passengers'. You started the car and began driving. Illinois sighed.

"So, what's your issue?" He asked.

"You are my issue!" You snapped. He looked offended. "You got us trapped in a cave for 12 hours!"

"Ok, I told you it wasn't that long. And you're still on that?"

"Yes, I'm still on that! You were careless, arrogant-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know! You know, my other partners never-"

"I am not your other partners and if you keep comparing me to them I will beat your fucking ass!" You threatened. You hated that he always criticized you by saying you weren't like his other partners. You'd just never really said anything about it until then. He frowned at you.

"Does it… bother you when I do that?" He asked. You grunted in affirmation. He nodded. "I'll… try not to…" he said. Illinois wasn't an apologizing type of guy. He's a "I won't admit I'm wrong but I'll try to do better" type of guy. It was anger-inducing at times, but he did try to do better, so you couldn't really be mad.

"Thank you," you sighed.

"Y'know you're-"

"Don't."

"What, I'm-"

"Don't! Don't say anything! Don't talk for the rest of this car ride, got it?" You demanded. He made a gesture that he was zipping his lips. You focused on the road. You heard writing and turned to Illinois. He was scribbling words down on a napkin he'd found. He handed to you. You held it in your hand until you got to a stoplight and then read it. It said "You're cute when you're mad~".

You groaned and threw it back at him. He started laughing and you pulled into the inn's parking lot soon after. You parked the car and got out, slamming the door shut.

"Whoa, you trying to get a new car?" He scoffed. You turned to him, looking annoyed. "Yeah. What I thought," he smirked and walked through the door. You followed after him, still feeling pissy. You flopped face down onto your bed. Illinois said something to you, but you didn't hear it as your vision went black and you fell asleep.

--

You woke to the sound of water running in the bathroom. Illinois is taking a shower.

"You were starting to stink," you mumbled, not nearly loud enough for him to hear. You laid there, not wanting to move, for the next 10 minutes.

The water stopped and you raised your eyebrows.

"Done already?" You slurred, still not fully awake.

"Hm?" He called.

"I said, 'Done already'?" You repeated. Illinois walked out of the bathroom wearing a towel. Only a towel. Your face flushed and you turned your head.

"I was in there before you woke up," he chuckled. He saw your head move a bit, and inferred that you'd turned away. He put clothes on and walked around your bed to where you were facing and gently flicked you in the forehead. You scrunched up your nose and whined as he laughed.

"Don't be a baby," he teased. You flipped yourself into your back and sat up.

"Guess it's my turn," you murmured. He grabbed your shoulder.

"Actually, there's not really a point for that," he informed you. You knitted your eyebrows together.

"Why?"

"We're going on another adventure, pal!"

"Illy…" You groaned and fell back onto the bed. He jumped in next to you.

"I promise we won't get trapped underground." You looked over at him.

"Probably."

You kept looking.

"Maybe."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Possibly…"

"Illinois, I'm tired," you whined. He snorted.

"I'm not sure how, you just slept for 10 hours." He said. You blinked at him. Ten hours? Guess you really were tired.

"Can't we just stay in today?"

"C'mon, man! Just one adventure and then you can stay in for a whole week!"

"Why does it have to be now?"

"It just does, okay?" You squinted at him, suspicious.

"Why did you take a shower?" He scratched his head.

"Well, I heard about this cave--"

"Of course."

"And we need a map to get to it. But, uh, the only person with a map is a woman who's leaving town tomorrow…"

"Illinois!"

"I know, I know!"

"What are you gonna do? Sleep with her?" You mocked. Illinois stayed quiet.

"Illinois! You slut!" You yelled.

"Hey, now, you can't call me things like that… at least not when I'm wearin' clothes…"

"I hate you."

"Please, Y/N!" He pleaded. You stared at him. As much as he was a bastard, you loved him and couldn't say no.

"Fine…"

"Alright, let's go," He got up and walked out the door. You followed, much less happy about it, and got into your car.

--

You drove to the cave, having gotten the map from the woman. Illinois' seduction didn't work on the woman. The two people did, however, start talking about adventure and traveling and got along over that. He asked her about the map and she said he could have it as long as he promised to give it back to her. He did, and you headed out.

You parked to the side of the forest where you were supposed to go through, and got out of the car. You took the mat and held it in front of you looking at the thick forest ahead. Illinois walked up next to you his hands on his hips. He turned to you.

"You ready?" He asked.

"As I'll ever be," you answered. He smirked and put his arm around your shoulder as you began your walk.

You two could follow a trail in the woods at first, but it faded off at some point. You tried your best to follow the map by going straight, but you ended up turning a couple times when there was a tree or something in your way. After half an hour of searching, you finally ended up at the cave that had a plaque on the side of it. He read the foreign writing aloud. You didn't recognize it.

"What does that mean?"

"No idea. I'm sure it doesn't matter," he waltzed into the cave without a care in the world. "Come on." He urged you. You sighed, folding the map and putting it in your satchel. You followed Illinois through the dark cave. You were in charge of the map, the flashlight, and Illinois. You were not going to get trapped underground again.

Every time you got to a puzzle of some sort, Illinois passed through effortlessly, while you lagged behind, fearing for your life. He teased you for it every time.

There was a small glass box in the center of the floor with a door on the other side. Illinois tried to push the door open, but it wouldn't budge. He walked back in front of the box, standing beside you.

"What should we do, partner?" He asked. You, being the dumbass you are, took your knife and tapped the box with it. The ground sank and a bunch of holes appeared in the walls. The door opened.

Illinois hauled ass towards the door, leaving you to panic in place. By the time he was through the door, you were only halfway there. Arrows began shooting through the holes in the walls. Illinois kept waving his hand, telling you to speed up.

"Come on! Come on!" He yelled. You sprinted towards him. An arrow cut your thigh and you squeezed your eyes shut as you threw yourself at the adventurer. He put his arms out in surprise as you wrapped yours around his chest.

"Well now, I know I'm hot, but you could ask before you--" his comment was cut off by you letting out a small groan. He furrowed his eyebrows. He looked down your body and saw your bleeding thigh. He lifted you off of his body and sat you on the floor. He reached in your bag and pulled out bandages and rubbing alcohol. He cleaned your wound as you bit your hand, drawing a bit of blood in the process. He bandaged you up and patted your shoulder.

"Get up, bud. You'll live," he said and started walking. He wanted you to rest for a bit, but he knew it wasn't safe in the cave. The best thing to do was to just finish the adventure so you could get back to the inn. You gritted your teeth and stood up, limping after Illinois.

While walking, you dug your fingernails into your arm to distract from the pain in your leg. You were much slower than Illinois, with his long, confident strides, so he slowed down for you. You eventually ended up outdoors again. There were necklaces with all kinds of precious jewels on it sitting on rocks, all in a circle.

"Which one are we supposed to pick?" You asked, your voice cracking from the pain. Illinois glances at you worriedly before walking forward.

"Well, I don't know. Let's ask the plaques," he leaned down in front of a rock. A golden plaque was on it, describing the necklace. Each one was supposed to be blessed. He read the plaque and wasn't very interested. He moved onto the next one. He still wasn't very interested. He went around to each of the jewels and found nothing interesting to him. Just when he was about to shove all of them into his bag and be done with it, he found a strange one. A necklace with a golden chain hanging on a branch of a tree. He lifted his eyebrow and walked up to it. There was a plaque on the branch. It only had a name, no description.

"Forbidden Fruit? That sounds fun," he laughed. You frowned.

"Uh, Illinois, I don't think you should take that one…"

"Oh, don't be a sourpuss, it'll be fine," he said as he took the necklace from the branch, smiling. His smile fell as the green and red colors of the jewel started to swirl, invading his vision. He felt himself begin to sway as he turned to his partner. The boy was on one knee glaring at the ground.

"Of course you don't listen. You don't care about me anyways…" you said without moving your mouth. Illinois, his vision covered in shades of red, green, and yellow, reached out to you.

"That's not… not true…" he slurred and heard an echo in his voice. "I… I care about… about you…" you looked up at him, your eyes wide.

"What?" You said, again not moving your mouth. "Is he hearing my thoughts?"

"Why would… would you think I… I didn't care?" He asked, his voice jumping octaves to his own ears. He felt the world spin around him and suddenly, he dropped. The ground disappeared beneath him as he fell and was suddenly stopped. His vision went back to normal as he opened his eyes and saw a speeding river below. He yelled out in fear, looking up. He saw you clutching onto his arm for dear life, while also keeping you and Illinois from plummeting by holding onto a ledge with your dagger.

"Illinois!" You yelled, "Do not move! I'm pulling myself up!" Illinois didn't respond. He just stared up at you, sweat and dirt covering your skin, your face darkening with the effort of holding him, hair sticking to your forehead…

It was making him feel weird.

He had this twisting feeling in his stomach and he felt his face heating up.

Was this… no. No, it couldn't. He would've known by now. Right?

You, running on pure willpower and adrenaline, managed to pull yourself over the ledge up to your chest. You heaved and wheezed with the effort of pulling yourself over and into your stomach. You still managed to have a deathgrip on Illinois' arm, even though you were quaking like hell. You held on.

Illinois started feeling weird again.

"Okay… okay just… just gimme a second… just a sec…" you panted. You were laying on your stomach, your head over the ledge, holding Illinois. He stared up at you, subconsciously trying to notice every detail of your face. Did you always have that scar? He didn't notice you had pulled him up until you were holding his head in your arms, rocking back and forth.

"Oh God… oh my God… you're okay… we're okay…" you stammered. Illinois pulled his head away from you, looking you in the eye. Tears were streaming down your face. He put his hands on both sides of your neck, rubbing his thumbs over your jaw. You held his face in your hands and began to sob, pulling him into a hug. You two sat and held each other for quite a while. Illinois had his eyes closed, trying to memorize your scent. He saw something bright through his eyelids and opened his eyes. He saw the plaque that was for the necklace he took. It now had a description.

Some fall in love slowly at first, where not even they know it. And then the emotion comes flooding all at once.

Illinois frowned and knitted his eyebrows together. All at once? What did that mean?

"I'm so glad you're okay…" you whispered. He felt your warm breath on his neck and he shivered. His face heated up again and the feeling in his stomach became more prominent.

Oh. That's what it meant. Was Illinois in love with you? The plaque seemed to think so…

You pulled away from the hug and smiled warmly at him. He returned it even brighter.

"I… think we deserve a week off…" he chuckled. You laughed and it made him happy. You both stood and walked around the outside of the cave, to the front of it. Illinois looked back at it for a moment and the letters on the plaque formed into English.

Arrogance fades when one makes room in his heart for others.

Illinois smiled. That one he could figure out.

"Hey Illinois! Come on!" You called from a couple yards in front of him.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," he said as he caught up to you.

"Hey uh… I guess you really… fell for me back there huh?" You laughed. Illinois stared at you. "Yeah, I know… cheesy…" you sighed and kept walking. Illinois slowed down, his face darkening.

This was gonna be a problem.

Aha I rushed this one it bad I'm so sorry

[shannygoatgruff]

Grown & SeXY - Chapter 2

Header made by the talented @flowers-in-your-hayr​

For @youbloodymadgenius​​ for your 400 Followers Writing Challenge.  Congrats on your success!

Genre:  Romance/Comedy

Pairing:  Modern Ivar x Mature OC

Warning: Language/mild angst/Sexual content

Rating: M

Summary: A relationship between Generations X & Y will help this XX & XY learn a lot about themselves, each other, and love.  Cougar/cub relationships aren’t always just about a midlife crisis and arm candy.

A/N:  I got the concept for this story from a conversation I was having with @youbloodymadgenius​​.  I hope I do it justice.  This story is for you!

Chapter 2

Biiiiiitch!  Where have you been?  I’ve been IMing you but you been ducking me like I’m the IRS. Shit, I’m surprised we talking now - you mad at me or something?  Did somebody tell you that they heard some shit about you from me?  Because they were fucking lying. I wouldn’t do that. You know I don’t like all that gossip shit and I'm not one to put all people's business out on Front Street, like that.

So, girl, I need to holler at you about something right quick. What the hell is up with the non-disclosure agreement I sent you? Cause I damn sure didn’t get a signed copy back in my mailbox. Now, maybe I’m the slow bitch in the class, but it seems to me that there are a few more people in on our private meeting than just us, like we had previously discussed. 

Now, I’m not saying that you said something, but I know I sure as hell didn’t. So, if I was over here keeping my sexy ass mouth shut  (cause that how a bitch do) and you haven't said shit either, then who the fuck else is talking? You know, I bet it was probably those same bitches that were running around saying that they heard that I was talking shit about you. I tell you, people today ain't about shit. Well, fuck them.

Just so you know, I didn't call you to try to check you or anything. I called to try to catch you up on this grown and sexy shit cause bitch you are hella behind. Okay...I told you about how Marisol was at the club and met this fine ass little young boy at the bar, who turned out to be her high school BFF’s little brother, right? Did I tell you about how Marisol’s son and King Ding-A-Ling hate each other or how they met up at a party at his daddy’s house? Shit bitch, what do you know? I feel like I’m starting this shit all over at the beginning, again! Seriously hooker, keep up because before I can get into this shit, I have to set the scene. 

So, you need all the dirt on Ivar’s family so moving forward you know what the fuck I’m talking about when I just start dropping shit on you like Pearl Harbor.  Believe me, hon-ty when I tell you, these motherfuckers got some Telenovela, Grey’s Anatomy, Scandal type shit with them. 

Alright now, let me start with his parents. You ever see a really attractive man and you figure, his daddy must have been cute when he was younger? Well, that’s Ivar’s daddy, Mr. Ragnar Lothbrok – or as I like to call him, Dick Daddy Yo.  

Now, child, Dick Daddy is fine as a motherfucker. And, I’m not talking regular run-of-the-mill attractive for a man in his late 50s – early 60s, who was probably knocking down everything back in the day, type of fine, either. No Queen - I’m talking, this motherfucker could get it TODAY, immediately, right now, if he asked for it. Shit, bitch, quiet as kept, he wouldn’t even have to ask. All he would have to do is set those baby blue eyes in my direction, and I would hand him the drawers.

So, back in the day, when they still lived in Norway, Dick Daddy married this total dime piece named Lagertha. When I tell you she was a bad bitch, I mean she was a Bad Bitch!  Shit, she still bad to this day thirty-some years later.  She was built, blond and beautiful, plus that bitch could box. I don’t know what kind of thug shit they taught her over there in the old country where they came from, but this broad was like Ronda Rousey out there in those Kattegat streets.  

Anyhoo, when Lagertha and Ragnar got married, she found out that Ragnar had that Super D and she knew she wasn't going to be able to keep all that good dick to herself because he liked to sling it all over town. So she told him to go do his dirt, but he better brings his fine ass home to her every night. Of course, he was all like, cool, he could have a dime piece at home and get cutty on the side…alright, bet!  

Well, honey, next thing you know, he gets hooked up with this fatal attraction type, funny looking broad named, Aslaug. Girl, Aslaug gets dickmatized and follows Ragnar around like a puppy, and the next thing you know he had to figure out how to bring a whole ass side-chick home to his dime piece wife. He must of came back with some shit like, “Baby, you know that girl Aslaug can cook and she’ll do that thing that you don’t like to do…you know cause she a freak…so really, it’s a win-win for us both.”  

So, I figure dude’s dick must have been dipped in platinum, because Lagertha was like, “Whatever, Dick Daddy,” cause the next thing you know all three of them are living together and these two bitches were sister-wives.  

Chile! But, here’s where the shit gets juicy!  Ooh, girl! The whole time Ragnar was out there in them streets, Lagertha’s sexy ass was knocking over his brother, Rollo, and word around the campfire is, one of them kids ain’t really Ragnar’s…biiiiiitttttttch! I can't make this shit up!

So anyway, by the time all those damn babies came all 50/11 of them moved here to that big blue house at the end of Greenwich, you know the one with the big ass fence front and the nice pool? The one that the young people always have all the parties at...yeah, that one well, that’s where they still live.  

Now onto the kids. Honey, Ragnar has five maybe six kids that he’s claiming. I'm sure it's more out there, but I'm telling you about the ones I know about. First, you got the two he has with Lagertha; that’s Bjorn, and Gyda (that’s if don’t think Bjorn is Rollo’s son).  But what the hell, I’ll take “Let’s Pretend That Bjorn Is Ragnar’s Kid” for $200, Alex…  

So, Bjorn is the oldest of all of the kids. And what can I say about BJ?  BJ is fucking…girl, he’s just fucking. He’s fucking any and everything. That man. Jesus jumped up.  He’s about 6’3”, 250lbs, muscular, blond, these piercing blue eyes. This smile…strong jawline. He has these hands, right? These hands that you know could just grip you right up under your ass cheeks and hold you up against a wall, and these arms…gurl, make me want to faint like a white woman! Hmm.  

BJ reminds me of Ragnar. Hell, all those kids remind me of him in some way, but Bjorn oozes sex like Ragnar. I don’t know what it is, but watch your uterus around him. If you stand too close to BJ, your pussy is liable to jump in his back pocket and you won’t even notice that it’s gone.  

BJ has a shit-ton of kids though and has been married like 150 times. I don’t know what it is, but he finds these blonde women, fucks them, marries them, has 20 babies with, and then gets divorced. He’s a shitty husband, but I bet you he’s a fire ass lay. 

Then there’s Gyda, we call her Da-Da. She’s just beautiful. Whew. She got those looks from both of her parents.  It is honestly painful to look at her. She’s the charming side of Ragnar. The side that’ll have you naked and buying her ass a house and a car before the waiter finishes taking your order on the first date.  It’s a good thing she’s a nice person because if she was an evil bitch, there’s no telling what she would be up to. She’s another tall one, with blonde hair and blue eyes. But, she’s built like her mother. This bitch looks like she needs to be holding a fundraiser where she’s wearing clear heels, in a strip club, called Twerking For Jesus or some shit.

Now, if those two gorgeous kids weren’t enough to make everyone else in the world jealous of how good the D and the seed were from Ragnar, he had to go and spread it around some more with that weird bitch, Aslaug. They have four boys; Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar. I don’t know how those boys ended up being so fine because Aslaug’s ass is not what I would call attractive. But, they got Ragnar’s genes and miracles never cease to amaze me.  

All, but one, of them can get it any day.    

Let’s start with Ubbe. It’s a long story, I don’t remember the particulars, but he’s known around the way as, Weebae. I can’t remember if it’s because he was small when as a baby, or because he used to cry all the damn time.  But, whatever the case, if you hear a motherfucker asking for Weebae, they talking about Ubbe. Anyway, Wee is Ragnar’s twin. That child looks like Ragnar just spit him out on the street, only I don’t know where in the fuck he got his personality, cause Ragnar ain’t that fucking nice and Aslaug is a fucking cunt.  

Have you ever met somebody that’s so damn nice, that they seem like a bitch ass?  Like they are just softer than a motherfucker? Somebody that constantly lets people run over the top of him all the damn time and you just want to be like, yo you’s a giant whore! Well, that’s Wee. If he wasn’t so damn sexy, I would be like you soft, brah…get your punk ass away from me. But seeing as how fine he is, I’m like…bring your sensitive ass over here and let me make it all better, with your sexy self. Cause, you know, Mama loves the sensitive ones.

Who’s next? Oh, yeah, the next one is Hvitserk. I know it’s a fucked up name, but no one calls him that. They call him Boobie. Why do you ask? Because Boobie loves titties. I swear that boy was trying to get everybody to breastfeed him since he was born. The bigger a woman's boobs, the more Boobie is into her. But he's such a freaking cutie pie! He doesn’t look like Ragnar to me, but he reminds me of him in that way where as long as he can fuck and eat, he doesn’t give a fuck about much else. He’s the type that never has the same job or girlfriend for too long. He just goes with the flow and stays around until he gets bored.  

Now Boobie favors Ragnar but not as much as some of the other kids.  He’s got this cute baby face, with this sandy blonde hair and these pretty green eyes, like Aslaug.  When you see him, you just want to pinch his cheeks on his face and his ass.  And because he seems like such a little lost puppy, you just want to take him home, and take care of him…maybe tie him up to your bed and ride his ass like he’s Budweiser Clysdale in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, too.     

Then there’s Sigurd…oh, Siggy. I call him, Brother Useless. He got all of Aslaug’s genes. It must be hard to look like Sigurd when you are born into that family. To be below average looking when you have extraordinarily attractive siblings, how does one go one with life?  By being a giant dick, that’s how.  Siggy fucking sucks donkey balls. He irks my fucking life. Siggy and I have history, outside of this little tale, and believe me he’s a dick in those stories, too.  

Anyway, he looks just like his mama with facial hair.  It’s really quite unfortunate. He reminds me of one of those Muppets off of the Dark Crystal. When I first found out that he was one of Ragnar’s sons, my first response was, I know you fucking lying! They should have just thrown the whole damn child away. See, Ragnar, that’s what happens when you go slumming with a funny looking chick…you get a funny looking kid with a fucked up personality.  God don't like ugly...

But He redeemed your good name with Lil' Man. Oh, my sweet Ivar.  This boy looks nothing like either of his parents but is the total embodiment of his father. Ivar is sexy. No, let me rephrase that for the bitches in the back...I said, IVAR IS SEXY. Bitch, I don’t know if there is even a word to describe the level of attractiveness this little bastard has. I don’t know if it’s that life-altering smile, or the dark hair and pale blue eyes. Shit, it could be that intense stare he has or those arms…or it could be that chest or maybe it’s that ass that you just want to bite and those lips that make you just want to sit on his face. Whatever it is about him, that boy makes you tingle in the most unladylike of places.  

Now, when Ivar was born, something was wrong with him and he needed an operation. He was fine afterward, but Aslaug’s dramatical ass was acting like he was on his damn death bed and treated him like he was Samuel L. Jackson in Unbreakable. So, naturally, he grew up spoiled as shit. So now, this child don’t know how to do shit. He thinks everybody supposed to hand him everything, just because he’s cute.  

Honey, short of my number and panties, he gonna have to work for everything else like everybody else.  But see, you can’t tell fine, muscular, spoiled ass, motherfuckers, with beautiful eyes, killer smiles, nice hair, and that smell good all the fucking time that they’re not special. Oh, no, because they will try to prove you wrong. At least he finished college and doesn’t have any kids. But if his ass would get a job…Sorry, I’m skipping ahead.  

Okay, so you have the background on the family.  Now check out how this shit went down...

Being in the Lothbrok house brought back a ton of memories for Soli. She had spent a good part of her adolescence there with her best friend, Gyda.  The two of them had countless sleepovers, movie marathons, and of course their love of all the teenage heartthrobs of the 80s and 90s. Teen Bop, Tiger Beat, and 17 Magazines fed their obsessions for Kirk Cameron, Corey Haim, Mark-Paul Gosselaar, and Mario Lopez. I was always a Joey Lawerence girl myself, but that’s neither here nor there.

That was until that one time the two of them got into this huge fight over who was going to marry Justin Timberlake. But then Bjorn told them that he thought Ryan Philippe was the same person and the girls realized that they did look a lot alike. So, Soli took JT and Gyda took Ryan, and they all lived happily ever after.  

As she accepted the glass of champagne from the tray, Soli looked around the hallway leading out to the patio. It was amazing how different the house looked now. Since the remodel nothing was where she had remembered. The living room used to be to the left of the hallway, and there had been a large formal dining room to the right. They also used to have a huge kitchen right behind the dining room and then the family room sat just behind there, with the entrance to the back yard. It was always a good-sized house, but the way it was cut up, with these weird doorways and walls in the most awkward of places, it always felt cramped, especially with so many people living there.  

But this? The open concept floor plan, no walls to obstruct the view...spacious, huge windows, lots of sunlight...it was gorgeous! Lothbrok Designs, LLC did one hell of a job. Everything from the floor plan to the decor was beautiful. Maybe Soli could get them to hook her up discount and do some work around her house.

“Hey there! I thought I saw you,” Gyda smiled walking over to Marisol with her arms out. “Oh Sonni, you look so good! I still can’t get over how you haven’t aged a bit. And girl, that body!”  

Soli spun around in a circle to give her friend the full view. Even she had to admit, the off the shoulder, floral printed, Boho, maxi-dress looked damn good on her. Especially the way the soft pink color played with the beautiful warm tones in her toffee-colored skin. And honey, she was rocking this split that came all the up the front of the dress to the bodice, that would have been showing all of the church's business if it wasn't for that little white chiffon underdress thing. Honey...forty where? She was a banger and she knew it. “Well, you know forty is new twenty. I didn’t get to do my twenties right because I had Mani, but now I'm single and I'm ready to mingle! And you, Diva…”

“Well, thanks. You know...I get it from my Mama." Gyda did a little shimmy and laughed. "Thank you so much for coming. It’s so good to have you back in town. I know my parents are excited to see you again.” She looked around the room and waved at a guest who was walking by, “Everyone was excited that you said you were coming.”  

Everyone? Why did Gyda say it like that? Soli was excited to catch up with the family, too, but damn. Soli knew that little cutie Ivar was going to be there, but that was nothing. A little innocent eye flirting at the bar a couple of weeks ago didn't mean anything. She hadn't seen or thought of that boy since. And she wasn't thinking about him today...well, not that much, anyway.

“Da-Da,” A gorgeous older blond man came up to Gyda and placed a soft kiss on the side of her head, before turning his attention to Soli. “No, you can’t be…Marisol Peña? The young lady I saw as much as my daughter growing up?” Ragnar walked over to Soli and wrapped her in a warm hug.

Soli chuckled and shook her head when she felt his hands linger at her waist a second longer than they should have. “Oh, Mr. Lothbrok,” Soli she patted him lightly on the chest taking a half step back to take in that beautiful smile, “Oh, it’s been too long. You still look good.” She smiled, feeling his hands slowly move down her side to now rest on her hips.

“And you still are as beautiful as ever,” he said leaning in toward her to talk to her. He had always had this strange way articulating certain words and sometimes he would get uncomfortably close when he would talk to people. Gyda used to get embarrassed because her father would get all up on her friends when he spoke to them, but Marisol always thought it was kind of sexy the way he would breathe on her when he talked.  

She felt herself being hypnotized momentarily by all that sexy, but she quickly regained her senses. “Mr. Lothbrok,” she tutted keeping a careful eye on him as he slowly walked around her in a circle with a sly grin on his face, “I see you're still as smooth as ever.” 

It was fluid the way Ragnar brushed his face next to Soli’s ear to whisper in his sexy accent, making the tendrils of hair tickle her neck, “Ragnar.”  

"Ragnar," she giggled. He was still a DILF, even after all these years.

“Ragnar?”  A feminine voice called causing everyone to turn toward a tall strawberry-blonde in flowing green empire dress standing at the patio door, “Come, lunch is ready and we will have cake.” For as tall and thin as she was the dress did nothing for her. A hottie like Lagertha could have pulled it off, but not her. Although, the navy blue and dark green embroidery did accentuate the red in her hair and her green eyes.    

Soli’s eyes widened as she turned to Gyda, devastated. “Is that Aslaug?” she whispered.  As they all began walking through the house toward the backyard she found herself laughing at the expression on Gyda's face. “Bitch, shut up.” Oh, they had so much to catch up on. 

Judging by how good Aslaug looked, she had had some work done. She was still funny looking, but she looked a whole hell of a lot better than she did when Soli knew her.  

Time seemed to fly by for Soli as she sat in backyard eating, laughing, and drinking with her childhood friend. She had forgotten how much she missed Gyda. But being with her and the family, it felt like they never missed a beat.  She even sat at the table reserved for Ragnar's kids and had no problem catching up with each one of them. Oh, the gossip she found out about sitting there.

For example, Weebae was married to BJ's ex-wife, Torvi, who left BJ with four children and is now having a baby with Bae. And you know the crazy thing is all of them are still talking like nothing ever happened? Or how about this, apparently something happened between Siggy and Ivar - no one is talking about what it is yet, but the two of them don't talk. They can be sitting at the same table and won't utter two words to each other. And did you know that none of the brothers knew why Soli and Gyda fell out all those years ago? I know, but that ain’t my place to say, so done tucked that one way down deep in my bra, honey. All I know is I could write a whole other story about this damn family’s shenanigans alone!  

“Man, I wish I could remember that!” Siggy laughed throwing his napkin on his plate.  “I would have loved to see the look on Bae’s face!” He gently nudged his brother’s arm as he continued to make fun of him.  

Ubbe shook his head and lowered his eyes as the stain of blush colored his cheeks, “I can’t believe that was you,” he said to Soli, “I remember running through the house naked, but I never remembered why.”  

Soli smiled around her glass of wine, trying her best to ignore the incredibly attractive younger man sitting next to her. "I remember why. I remember that little birthmark on your ass, too."

Gyda laughed putting the last of her spoonful of cake in her mouth. “Oooh, Beege, do you remember that time we were playing Van Damme and you ended up in the emergency room?” 

Bjorn rolled his eyes and tried to cover his brow with his hand, “Of course I remember!  How could I forget?” He started rubbing his inner thigh at the memory.  He looked around the table at all of his brothers’ faces who were rapted with excitement, smiles already plastered on their faces, dying to hear the story.  “So, I might have been about 13, Da-Da and Soli might have been around 11 or so. Anyway, we used to always watch Daddy's Jean-Claude Van Damme movies. I was obsessed - he was a total bad-ass to me. We had no business watching them because they were rated R and too violent for us to be watching, but we didn't care. And after the movies, we always would play Van Damme and act out our own scenes but do all the karate moves we just saw.”

“But, he always thought he automatically got to be Van Damme because he was a boy, and he always tried to make me the stupid female sidekick. I wanted to be the badass female Van Damme, ya know?" Soli said rolling her eyes.

“Wait, where was Da-Da?”  Ubbe asked.

“I always wanted to be the bad guy,” Gyda shrugged, “What? It was fun.”  

"Yeah, we used to whip her ass, "Soli laughed, “So, this one day BJ and I got in this big argument about who should get to be Van Damme in our reenactment. Of course, he thought he should be because he’s a boy, and I said that I should be because I could do the split. You remember the splits he used to do, right?” She looked around the table and watched everyone nod.

That is, all except one, “No…he’s the guy with that show on HULU now, right?” Ivar asked, turning in his chair so that his outstretch leg brushed Soli’s shin under the table. “He used to do action movies?”

Rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the question, Soli reached into her small clutch bag and pulled out her phone. “I keep forgetting you’re a child. Of course, you don’t know anything about Jean-Claude Van Damme.  When were you born, like 6 months ago?” She quickly found a picture of the Van Damme split online and handed her phone to Ivar. 

“So, in the movie Double Impact, he did the split when he had his legs on these chairs and his pelvis was suspended between them…I knew I could do it. I had been taking gymnastics since I was six. But BJ, thought because he was a boy he was naturally superior.”

“Oh God, Beege…what happened?” Hvitserk asked popping open another beer.

“The chairs moved, man.” Bjorn said sadly, “Daddy had to take me to the hospital.  My nuts twisted; sprained my dick.” He tried to hold back his laugh but listening to how funny his brothers found his childhood misfortune made Bjorn laugh, too. “Never played Van Damme again.”

“And you never bet against me again, that’s for sure.” Soli felt Ivar’s hand brush against the side of hers and when she turned to face him he was handing back her phone. She noticed that when he leaned over toward her that the first two buttons of his classic white button-down shirt were undone, exposing his thick neck, and collarbone to her. Would it be rude if she tried to get a peek down his shirt? She didn't think so. What was rude was him smelling like a clean ocean breeze or wearing that damn white shirt against his tanned skin. 

Ivar put the phone in her open palm and closed his hand around hers. The hint of a smile started with one corner of his mouth and as his tongue darted out of his mouth and started worrying the bottom corner of the lip. 

“So, um…you can do that split, huh?” There it was. That come sit on my face smile. She had to watch out for this little bastard.

“Yep and  I can do it on a handstand,” she whispered back, and winked at him, pursing her lips to keep herself from smiling. God, this kid was so damn cute, but she shouldn't be flirting with him, even if it was who she was by nature. He was too young. It was too wrong. He was too sexy. She hadn’t had sex in a very long time.  This was tricky. She knew the family.  He had muscles. “Close your mouth there, Baby Ivey.” She patted his shoulder feeling the striations under her fingertips. That was another thing, she had to stop touching him!

“Hey Mom,” Soli’s son, Mani walked over to the table she was sitting at wearing a nice pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. She had made him promise to drop by for a minute, just to say hi to some of her childhood friends before he went to a party of his own. The things he did for that woman.  

“There’s my Baby Boy!” Soli said, standing up. “Mani, I want you to meet my second family when I was growing up. This was my best friend, Gyda, and her brothers Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar.” She gestured her hand to each person as she said their names. “Everyone, this is my son, Miguel.”  

Ivar smiled and stood up, offering his hand to shake, “I remember you from school. Cartoon Boy, right?”

Mani’s posture stiffened and his warm brown eyes hardened almost instantly, “I don’t remember Jock Strap.” Mani had hated Ivar since they were in high school. Even as a teenager he thought Ivar Raganarsson was a dick. He was an entitled asshole who thought the world owed him something. He had walked around that school like he was the shit and because Mani was younger, smaller and didn’t play sports, Ivar just fucking sucked toward him. He never bullied him, but he always acted like Mani was beneath him.  

Well, fuck Ivar and his big ass beaver teeth smile…got on his fucking nerves. Mani turned his attention to the rest of the table. “It was nice to meet all of you, but I have another engagement. I just stopped by to drop something off to my mom.” 

“Excuse me,” Soli said getting up from the table. She was ready to punch Mani in the throat. She had specifically told him that when he came to the house not to say anything insulting to Ivar. And if she had to listen to one more minute of how much Mani hated Ivar she was going to scream. Since she told him about that first time seeing him at the bar all she had heard was how much of an asshole Ivar had been in high school and how he stole the lead in the school play Mani’s sophomore year. Did she care? Not at all. Mani was 22 years old now and he was still holding a grudge about something that happened when he was 15.  

She walked back into the house with her son following him to the front door. The fake she was forcing was hurting her face. “What the fuck was that, Mani?”

“You see him with that Fuck Boy Ricky hairstyle? I swear Mom, he’s a total Dickbag.” Mani rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “And you're friends with his people? That's a whole new level of douchery, even for you, Mom.”  

“Oh my, God…I’m not. Not right now.” She got on her tiptoes to kiss her son on the cheek. “Have fun tonight. I love you.”

“I’m telling you, watch that fucktard.”

"Get out," Soli pushed her son out of the door and sighed. This was reason number 4,037 why she never dated. Mani hated and had something to say about everyone. Not saying that she wanted to date Ivar or anything, but just saying that Mani had a problem with every male that she was even friendly with. It was hopeless. Her ex-husband was going to be the last man she’d ever have sex with.  Oh, the humanity of it all...

Soli walked back to the family table with a fresh glass of wine and sat back with a smile as she watched the siblings pose for their family photos.  The pictures were going to be gorgeous - they were a beautiful family. There were so many photos being taken, too. There were poses of Ragnar, both his wives, all of his children, and grandchildren. Even the photos of the divisions of the families were beautiful. But the most captivating thing to Soli was that Ivar was the photographer.  

He was so patient and genuinely seemed to be having a good time doing it.  He was a natural. He laughed as he directed his family and smiled a huge, smile with every picture he took. He was engaging and extremely creative. Looking at him, she would have never have guessed he had an artistic side to him. When Soli realized that she had a full-blown smile on her face watching Ivar and not the family she shook her head and grabbed her phone for a distraction. 

Taking a sip of wine, she checked her text messages and almost choked. There as only one missed message and it was from a number that she didn't recognize. He must have called himself on her phone to get her number. 

She couldn't stop the big ass smile from spreading across her face as she read:

‘Splits and handstands?  I💓 gymnastics! ~ Baby Ivey’

So, girl, that’s what happened with that. Don’t worry, we are about to get into the good shit, I promise. I'm telling this story honey and bitch I'm building suspense.  

I'll talk to you later girl. And next time, I ping you, answer your girl. Don’t be screening me like I’m that dude at the club that you trying to get rid of.  

Chapter 1

Tags:  @youbloodymadgenius​​ @idea-garden @kol--mikaelson​​ @mooniemouse​​ @didiintheblog​​ @waiting4inspiration​​ @tempt-ress​ @where-beauty-goes-to-die @crazyaboutmotleycrue​​ @oddsnendsfanfics​​ @geekandbooknerd​​ @ivarthebloodyking​​ @honestsycrets​​   @xbellaxcarolinax​​  @zuxiezendler​​ @inforapound​​​  @a-mess-of-fandoms​​

[recurring-polynya]

Hello! I have forgotten my tumblr login, but I am shai from AO3 and I just want to say that the Abhorsen books are very dear to my heart and I am THRILLED at idly wandering tumblr and seeing you're writing a Bleach AU set in that world. (Are the Kuchikis the Abhorsens? Is there a Mogget equivalent and is it Yoruichi? Is Karakura in Ancelstierre? I can't map the two settings together at alllll in my head on first glance but I'm super curious how you will!)

First of all, I am beyond excited that anyone actually cares about this project. I was going to try to explain it, but honestly, it’s not that long and, uh, maybe I should just post it. So, here’s the shorty version, where I cut it off at the Dramatic Drabble Point. I have more, but it starts to meander into an actual plot, where the plot is just the final confrontation at the end of Sabriel. I honestly just wanted to write Renji as part of the Crossing Guard Scouts?? I might expand this (how much? as much as I feel like?) after I re-read Sabriel. My husband has been reading the books to my son, and I catch snatches of it and it’s got me In the Mood, but I found myself forgetting way too much. 

Dear everyone else: I refuse to explain any of this. The Abhorsen books are the shit, just go read them. If you love Rukia as a character, you will love Sabriel. The two of them, along with Susan Sto Helit and Death of the Endless are the fictional pragmatic death girls of my heart, if I *ever* write an actual book, it will almost surely be about a pragmatic death girl.

Anyway, here it is, The Worst Charter Mage in Ancelstierre.

“All that stuff Colonel Zaraki said… about a soldier’s intuition an’ stuff… that was just made up, right? To scare us? Us, uh, new guys, I mean, you never get scared, right Renji?” 

Captain Abarai Renji of the Northern Perimeter Reconnaissance Unit, or the Crossing Point Scouts, as they were often known, stared out into the foggy dusk. His skin itched. His ears strained to hear the unearthly whistling of the wind flutes, which as far as he knew, none of the other scouts could hear. He could usually hear them, but not tonight. “Stop cleaning that damn firearm Yuki,” he grumbled without turning around. “Check your sword fittings instead.”

Lance Corporal Yuki Rikichi, having been stationed on the Perimeter for all of two months, very slowly started reassembling his pistol. “I’m not great with swords,” he admitted.

“Wind’s from the north,” Renji grunted. “Guns ain’t much good.”

“That’s just stories, though, right?”

“Nope,” Renji replied, squinting at a dark shape winging through the sky. It looked a bit like the airplanes he had seen when we went South for officer training, but it was too small, too silent, and besides, shit like that didn’t work past the Wall. He groped for his spyglass. “You think you can do that protection charm I been teaching you?”

“Yeah, I’ve practiced and practiced!” Rikichi bubbled eagerly.

Renji frowned, trying to focus the spyglass. If tonight was going to go as badly as his skin was crawling, that protection charm was going to do about as much good against the Dead as Rikichi hurling his useless gun at them. “Fuck,” he muttered. “That’s a someone.” 

“A what?” Rikichi echoed. 

“We got visitors,” Renji repeated, standing and checking the sword strapped his hip. “You go tell the Colonel, I’ll give ‘em the ol’ Crossing Scout welcome.”

“I can’t leave you alone!” Rikichi yelped. “Look, I’ll just radio him.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Renji shrugged, making his way down the stone staircase of the watchtower, knowing that piece of Ancelstierran junk would give nothing but static until the wind changed.

As Renji watched the strange craft circle down toward the ground, he tried to pull together the Charter Marks for a Major Blessing. It wasn’t a hard spell, and it would protect him from the Lesser Dead, maybe even a weak Free Magic Creature. As usual, the marks weren’t behaving, and he finally gave up. He didn’t know why he had such a hard time casting spells. None of the books he read ever described Charter Marks as elusive or mischievous. Was it like this for all Charter Mages? Maybe if he ever met another one, he could ask them. He was going to have to rely on his sword arm instead. Fortunately, his sword arm was pretty fucking reliable. 

The craft had settled in the tall grass, and two figures were getting out. It looked remarkably like an airplane, except that it appeared to be made of paper, painted in cheerful blue and silver. It was powered by Charter Magic, Renji had heard the pilot whistling Charter Marks as they brought the thing to the ground. Pretty nifty trick, to be honest. Must be from deep in the Old Kingdom, where they still taught the old magic. Renji himself had been born just a few miles from the Wall, lived in that shitty border town until he was sixteen. He’d come south thinking he never wanted to see a Charter Stone again, but somehow, he’d never made it much further south than the Perimeter, not for long anyway. It was fine. He was useful here. 

Renji gripped his sword with one hand. They looked and felt like people, but Free Magic Creatures could be tricksy. “Halt!” he shouted. “Who goes there? This is not a legal crossing point! What is your name? What is your business?”

The taller of the two figures, clad in a red and gold helmet and a red cloak, leaned down and said something to the much smaller figure, the pilot, who was dressed in blue and silver. The pilot elbowed the other in the ribs and then announced in a voice that rang with authority, “I am the Abhorsen and if you don’t help me, this gate is going to fall before dawn!”

Renji drew his sword. “I’ve met the Abhorsen!” he shouted. “You sure don’t look like that tall, pretty bastard to me!”

The pilot, who had been slowly approaching him, froze in her tracks. “That… was my brother-in-law,” she bit off. “How did you know him? He never came this far south.” She was silent for a moment before adding tentatively, “Also, he wasn’t the Abhorsen, although sometimes he let people believe he was.”

Renji’s fingers twitched on his sword grip. No. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. The voice was different, huskier, more mature, but then, it had been twelve years, she wasn’t a girl anymore. Not that she’d grown much. “I am simply returning her to her family,” that pale, flash prat had said, as he pulled her up onto the horse behind him, and rode away with the one person who gave Renji’s life any meaning or purpose. “Not one step further,” he shouted, since he didn’t think he could keep his voice steady any other way. “I don’t care if you’re the bloody Queen of the Old Kingdom herself!”

Something was happening with the taller of two visitors. Dark red energy, nearly black was crackling around his fists, the ozone smell of Free Magic permeating the air. Renji tried again to pull a Mark from the Charter, and this time one came easily, and he felt an invisible barrier thrum into place before him. It was no diamond of protection, but it should be enough to fend of some upstart teen.

“Cool it, you moron!” the pilot yelled at the youth. “The Scouts are good people, they just get hung up on procedure. Also… I… might know this guy.” She reached up and hooked a finger over the scarf wrapped over her face and pulled it down, tucking it under her chin. “Abarai Renji? ‘Zat you?”

“Rukia…” Renji murmured just as there was a clatter of boots on bitumen behind him. 

“WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE?” a familiar voice bellowed. “Abarai, you got your sword out and there ain’t no blood on it, what’s going on?”

“Says she’s the Abhorsen, sir,” Renji reported, adjusting his sword stance but not relaxing. “Don’t look like the Abhorsen I remember.”

Colonel Zaraki strode through the company of men who had accompanied him, towering, helmetless, his hawklike nose catching the setting sun. He surveyed the young woman standing before.

“The wall is going to be attacked, tonight!” she shouted. “A massive army of the Dead, led by a necromancer who is himself one of the Greater Undead!  Are you the commanding officer of this garrison?”

“Abhorsen came through here in ‘87,” Zaraki grunted. “Clever woman. After the fuckers down south stopped letting us move the gate every few months, all the deaths at the crossing point would build up, cause spontaneous risings. She carved us those wind flutes to keep the Dead down.” He surveyed the woman, dressed in a blue and silver tabard over silver chain. Her dark, short-cropped hair, the stunning indigo eyes Renji would never, ever forget. “Looked a lot like you. Your mother?”

“Sister,” Rukia corrected. It was Rukia, Renji was sure of it now. Of course she hadn’t been taken away to be a noble, she’d been taken away to be the fucking Abhorsen. Of course she had.

“If you’re the Abhorsen now, that means–”

“She went into Death four days ago. She’s holding out, but she’s been there too long, she can’t come back. At the full of the moon, the wind flutes will fail.”

“That the new Abhorsen-in-Waiting, then?”

Rukia’s eyes darted to the youth at her side and back again. “Maybe. This is Kurosaki. He is what he is.”

“Yo,” Kurosaki waved, seemingly unconcerned by any of this.

Zaraki jerked his chin at Renji. “Stand down, Captain. You been on the Wall too long to be this twitchy.”

“Don’t trust people who ‘are what they are’,” Renji replied. “Sounds to me like something a Free Magic Construct would say.” He sheathed his sword, but didn’t release the Charter Mark.

“He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a Free Magic Construct,” Rukia rolled her eyes.

“I’m standin’ right here, y’know!” Kurosaki protested.

“What do you need, Abhorsen?” Zaraki asked.

Renji glanced at him, surprised. He’d served under the man for over a decade, and he’d never seen him act this respectfully to anyone, including his own COs.

“I need every Charter Mage you’ve got,” Rukia barked. “Aizen has hidden his body in Ancelstierre, a few miles from here. We need to destroy it, but it’s going to take a ton of power to destroy something that powerful.”

Zaraki scratched his ass thoughtfully. “You may not realize, ma’am, but we don’t get a whole lot of Charter Mages this far south. My boys, though, have got swords like you’ve never seen. Zaraki’s Company can cut through anything, living, Dead, or in-between.”

“That’s very nice,” Rukia bit off, “because they are going to have an awful lot of things to stab in just a few hours. But I need Charter Mages. I don’t care if there aren’t many. Please. Give me what you have.”

Zaraki took a deep, resigned breath through his nose. “Well. You heard the lady, Abarai. Take that fucking apprentice the boys down south sent you, too. You managed to teach him anything yet?”

“Not… much…” Renji admitted, stunned.

“What, what?” Kurosaki exploded. “You’ve only got a single Charter Mage?”

“He’s terrible, also,” Zaraki added. “Worst Charter Mage I’ve ever seen, aside from the apprentice. Good with a sword, though, one of the best in the company to be honest.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, sir,” Renji grouched. Suddenly, he realized that Rukia was looking at him, and he felt like he was eleven years old again, meeting her for the first time, being judged by those eyes and, inexplicably, being found worthy. “I’ll go. At your service. Abhorsen.”

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Fallen Idols: Part Two

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,129

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“Did you just give him all that research to do so he wouldn’t be out in the world?” you asked Dean as you finished your glass of beer from the bar you two were at.

“He needs it.”

“Dean, do you fully trust him? If not, you have to tell him. I may not have been serious about braiding Sam’s hair and mud masks, but I was serious about talking about our feelings. It doesn’t have to be a girl sesh, but it is healing to do so.”

“That’s more your thing than mine,” he shrugged.

“You know, I’m kind of scared about Amara and what Zachariah showed us,” you sighed.

“Me too,” he whispered, but you heard him.

“I just don’t want to end up that way. I saw the look in my own eyes, and I didn’t recognize me. It was all her, and that scares the shit out of me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having dreams about her?”

“I guess I didn’t want you to worry. She talks to me wherever she is, and she says that I need to trust her because she needs me and I am going to need her. She tells me that she isn’t bad, but what I saw… that wasn’t good. It’s the complete opposite of everything she’s telling me that she is.”

“We’ll deal with her when it comes down to it. Who knows, that could be years in the future.” Before you had a chance to come up with a reply, Dean’s phone rang. He answered it with a curt, “Hello” before putting whoever it was on speakerphone.

“Took me a while, but I traced all the car's previous owners,” Sam said on the other line.

“Any of 'em die bloody?” you wondered.

“Nope. In fact—” someone nearby breaks a triangle of pool balls which was loud enough for Sam to hear it. “Are you two in a bar?”

“No, I—I'm—we’re in a restaurant,” Dean stuttered, and you put your hand over your mouth to silence your giggle.

“Here’s your beer,” the bartender said when she brought out Dean’s refill.

“That happens to have a bar,” the older brother said to the younger one.

“I've been working my ass off here.”

“Hey, world's smallest violin, pal, I spent the afternoon up Christine's skirt. I needed a drink,” Dean sighed.

“Actually, you didn't.”

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“The car's first owner was a cardiologist in Philadelphia; drove it 'til he died in nineteen-seventy-two. That Porsche is not, nor has it ever been, James Dean's car. It's a fake Little Bastard.”

“Then what killed the guy?”

“Good question,” Sam sighed.

“I want you to use a, a fine-tooth comb. The evidence is here, we just gotta find it,” Rick instructed one of the crime scent unit gentlemen who just nodded and left to do his job. 

There had been another murder taken place at someone’s home. GSW to the head, but no bullet, gunpowder, or gun so it was definitely up your alley.

“Heard you got another weird one,” you commented to the Sheriff as he pushed past you to exit the room.

“Uh, well, it's a little strange on the surface, I admit, but, uh... you know, once you—you look at the facts…”

“William Hill died from a gunshot wound to the head. No gun, no gunpowder, no bullet,” you pointed it out to the nervous man.

“Nope. Nothing strange about that,” Dean shrugged.

“Well there's gotta be a reasonable explanation. There always is.”

“Well what's your reasonable explanation?”

“Professional killer,” the Sheriff whispered cautiously. “CIA, NSA, one of them trained assassins, like in Michael Clayton. You're welcome to look around, but—but these guys don't leave fingerprints.”

“Mind if we talk with the witness?” you asked.

“Be my guest. She's not making any sense! And she's not making any sense in Spanish either.”

“Right,” Dean nodded slowly before you took the lead and led the brothers outside where a police officer was talking to the housekeeper for William. 

Pulling out your badge, you flashed it to the officer who just nodded and left the woman alone.

“Consuela Alvarez?” you asked.

“Yes?”

“FBI. Now, uh, you said you saw something in the professor's house. Right? Something in the window?” you asked as you took the officer’s place on the bench next to the woman.

“Estaba sacando la basura. Imiré por la ventana y vi al hombre que mató al Señor Hill!” she exclaimed. 

Looking at Sam, you knew he used to take Freshman Spanish, so he was the only one who could talk to her right now since you and Dean didn’t know a lick of English. Getting up, you let Sam take your spot so he could talk to her.

“Uh, Señora Alvarez. Cálmese, por favor. Uh—Uh, díganos lo que vio?” Sam asked as he tried to remember what he learned. 

He asked her to tell him what she saw and to calm down since she was a fucking mess.

“Era alto. Muy alto. Y llevaba el abrigo negro largo y tenía bigotes,” she sighed.

“Okay, uh, a tall man, very tall. With a long black coat and a beard,” Sam translated.

“Y un sombrero,” Consuela added.

“Dude was wearing a sombrero?” Dean asked.

“Uh, a hat, not a—a—”

“No, no, no, un sombrero alto,” the woman corrected.

“A tall hat?”

“Oh, like a top hat!”

“Un sombrero alto. Muy alto!” she gasped as she demonstrated just how tall this hat was.

“What, you mean like a stovepipe hat?” you asked. “Like Abraham Lincoln.”

“Sí,” the woman sobbed. “El Presidente Lincoln. Abraham Lincoln kill Mister Hill!”

“Excuse me?” you asked, not believing your ears.

“S-so I go home now?” she asked.

“Uh, sí. Gracias,” Sam smiled as the woman left.

“Abraham Lincoln? The 16th president? The dead president?” you gawked.

“Looks like it,” Sam sighed.

Back at the motel room, research needed to be done because clearly, something was going on here that was worse than you originally thought. Sam did some research on the newest victim, William, while you and Dean went over the video that Jim recorded of Cal’s death to see if there was something that happened to be missed. Dean played the video frame by frame until you spotted something red in the reflection of the car.

“Wait, go back,” you instructed.

“You find something?” Sam asked. 

Dean went back a few frames until the figure in red was locked onto the screen. Dean picked up the laptop before turning it around and showing his brother what was discovered.

“It's a freeze-frame from Jim Grossman's video. Are we crazy, or does that look like James Dean?”

“That looks like James Dean,” Sam confirmed. 

Dean placed the laptop back in front of him with a sigh.

“So, we got Abraham Lincoln, and James Dean?” you asked. “Famous ghosts?”

“Maybe.”

“Well that's just silly.”

“No, actually, there is a ton of lore on famous ghosts. More than the, you know, not-famous kinds. I'm actually surprised we haven't run into one before.”

“Yeah, but now we got two of 'em? Two extremely pissed-off ghosts?”

“Who are apparently ganking their fans,” Sam said as he looked at his laptop screen.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Professor Hill was a Civil War nut. He dug Lincoln.”

“And Cal must've been a James Dean freak. He spent seventeen years of his life tracking down the guy's car,” Dean added.

“So, you're saying we've got two super-famous, super-pissed-off ghosts killing their... super-fans?” you asked in disbelief.

“That's what it looks like.”

“Okay, but what the hell are they doing here?” you wondered. “Ghosts usually haunt the places they live. I mean, I get Abraham Lincoln at the White House and James Dean at a race track, but... what the hell are they doing in Canton?”

“That’s what we need to find out.”

“You. That’s what you need to find out,” Dean said as he got up. 

Closing the laptop, you got up before heading to the bathroom. Sam just rolled his eyes before getting to work. He worked hard to try and find the right kind of information while you went to the bathroom and Dean watched from the sink with a soda in hand.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Sam groaned.

“What?” Dean asked as he walked over to Sam to see what was going on. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“What is it?” you asked as you exited the bathroom. Walking over to the brothers, you saw a website for a wax museum not that far from here. “You got to kidding me.”

Walking into the wax museum, you looked at the very many and very life-like figures which were everywhere. Abraham Lincoln was staring at you as you passed him which gave you a chilly shudder of uncertainty. John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon were also on display as well as some other famous individuals.

“Dude, he's short,” Dean commented. Looking over to where he was, you just chuckled at his comment made towards Gandhi.

“Hey. Gandhi was a great man,” Sam defended him.

“Yeah, for a Smurf,” Dean scoffed just as the director of the museum came rushing down the stairs.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, this is our busiest time of the year,” he chuckled. Looking around the place, there wasn’t a soul left in sight.

“This is busy?” you asked.

“Well, not right now, but it's early.”

“It's four-thirty,” you coughed.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“Uh, well, we are writing a piece for Travel Magazine,” Sam took over.

“Yeah, on how, uh, totally non-sucky wax museums are.”

“That's fantastic. A little press, just what we need.”

“Great. Well we're interested in a few of your exhibits, specifically Abraham Lincoln and, uh, James Dean.”

“Two of our most popular displays.”

“They bring in a lot of visitors?” you wondered.

“Yeah, we have our regulars.”

“I don't suppose that, uh, William Hill and Cal Hawkins were regulars, were they?” Dean asked.

“As a matter of fact, they were. Yeah, I heard what happened to them. It's tragic, just tragic. Oh—you—that's not gonna be in the article, is it?” the owner panicked a little inside.

“No, of course not. You know, I gotta tell you, that Lincoln is so lifelike, I mean, you can just imagine him moving around. You ever see anything like that?” Dean chuckled.

“Uh, no,” the owner frowned.

“Well, um, is there anything you could think of that would make your museum... unusual? You know, for the article?” you inquired.

“Well, I'll say. There isn't another place like us, not anywhere. For one, that's Honest Abe's real hat,” he said as he pointed to the wax figure.

“Almost like his remains,” Dean said to his brother which the owner caught.

“Uh, I guess.”

“You wouldn't happen to have any of James Dean's personal effects, would you?” you asked.

“Ooh, yeah. Got his keychain. We got a bunch of stuff, uh, Gandhi's bifocals, FDR's iron lung. This,” he indicated to his leather jacket with a huge smile.

“Who did that belong to?”

“The Fonz. Seasons two through four!” the owner grinned with a double thumbs-up. “But this is nothing. I've been working on a new collection of figures. Stuff that'll really wow the kids. Computer games, cell phones, sexting; They're just fads. I'm gonna make wax museums hip again.”

“Well, thank you for your time,” you said politely before leaving the awkward man and the creepy-as-hell museum. You’d come back tonight when the coast was clear to get rid of the keychain and the hat.

“Yeah, Abraham Lincoln and James Dean, can you believe that?... Why so kill-crazy? Ah, maybe the apocalypse has got 'em all hot and bothered. Yeah, well, we all know whose fault that is… Well I'm sorry, but it's true,” Dean spoke to your dad over the phone. Looking up from your phone, you saw Sam by the door, and you cleared your throat loudly which caused Dean to spin around quickly. “I'll call you later. Bye.”

“What's going on?” Sam asked.

“Did you get the trunk packed up?”

“Yeah, trunk's packed. Who was on the phone?”

“My dad.”

“And?”

“Nothing,” Dean shook his head.

“So, we're just gonna pretend I didn't hear what I just heard?”

“Pretend or don't pretend. Whatever floats your boat.”

“This was supposed to be a fresh start, Dean,” Sam sighed.

“Well, this is about as fresh as it gets,” Dean said as he picked up his jacket. “Now are we going or not?”

“Sorry, Sam,” you whispered before following Dean out the door. Sam watched with a frown, sighed, but then followed nonetheless.

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