#i think cows watch sunsets man

[daydreamsinthemoonlight]

i hate being a locked tomb fan because i see the word hot sauce and promptly lose my mind

[themotherofhorses]

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader, alys rivers x daughter!reader

summary: she arrives back home in the middle of autumn when the foliage around harrenhal is as pretty and colorful as the evening sunset.

it's been well over a year since she last laid eyes on her beloved mother or heard her soothing voice and felt her hugs and kisses, and she desperately wished for the twins to meet their grandmother.

warnings: nothing. soft moments between alys and her daughter, featuring the twins. foreshadowing maybe at the end???

notes: a lil mother's day special for y'all.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

She arrives back home in the middle of autumn when the foliage around Harrenhal is as pretty and colorful as the evening sunset. It’s been well over a year since she last laid eyes on her beloved mother or heard her soothing voice and felt her hugs and kisses, and she desperately wished for the twins to meet their grandmother. At her request, Queen Alicent had agreed to send her prince to Oldtown to meet with his brother and, in the meantime, fetch a carriage that would take her home.

She’s beyond happy and excited and grateful.

And to her upmost delight, her mother’s quite taken with the boys. Alys had baked sweetbread and baked apples and sweet cakes, coated in honey, and with a glass of fresh cow’s milk, for the children, and kissed their little noses and chins.

Together they laze in the open meadow, watching as the boys play amidst the tall yellowing grass. The sky overhead is dark and heavy with southern rain, and the sight takes her back to her girlhood, and long grey days spent along the Gods Eye. The godswood too, with its drooping branches and silver mist, and making mud pies for her uncles. She’s missed this all.

“He’s named them Aemion and Aenar, first of their names,” she tells her mother, smiling. “He’s quite proud of them. The queen too.”

Alys hums. “As a father should be with his babes.” But, deep in her pretty green eyes, there is a faint longing that speaks more words than her tongue does. Her mother only ever had one child of her own, and that was herself. “Children are the one true blessing from the gods. Not the crops and rainfall and victories in war. The gods have naught to give but them,” and Alys takes her hand to kiss it, gentle and loving.

“You are my greatest, most beautiful and treasured gift.” Alys shakes her head, chuckling. “I remember when you were just a babe, and the very first time I fed you at my breast. They told me to give you to another wet nurse, so that I might feed another child, bit I couldn’t bear seeing you in the arms of another woman.” Her mother stares at the twins wistfully, two small silver crowns scooping up mud with their fingers. “Oh, look at them, baking mudpies like their mother.”

Her boys look like an early snowfall fell across Harrenhal. Sweet it is, and she hopes this day might last forever.

“They suggested a wet nurse for the twins,” she whispers, and Alys turns her head to her. “My first babes, and they were worried I didn’t have enough milk to feed them. I cried when they told me that. I had labored for the entire morning, to bring them into this world…I supposed I thought they would take them away, or perhaps their father would prefer seeing them in the arms of another woman…” her voice trails off.

That night, after their birth, she wept her eyes dry within her prince’s arms, and begged him not to let them take her babies away. He promised before rocking her to sleep, and her silly fears disappeared by the next morning when she awoke to Aemond alongside her, with their sons swathed in his arms.

Aemion and Aenar laugh from where they sit, and she spies bits of mud, brown and slick, caked in their hair. They now resemble her family more than their father’s. Strong boys, Aemond would call them if he was here with her.

“Does he love you?” Alys asks.

Her lips press together as she considers the question. “I think so. I know a man doesn’t have to love a woman to give her his seed, but he treats me well, and he loves our sons dearly, that is known.” She doesn’t tell her mother how he’s already anxious for the next child, wanting to see her belly swollen with his babe again.

Alys clicks her tongue. She smooths down the slight wrinkles across her green gown before folding them over her lap, and her nose scrunches up with her next words. “I cried day and night when they took you away, but tears couldn’t bring you back, and I started praying for your safety and goodwill. Ah, but I never could’ve imagined the gods would heed my prayers like this.”

“I don’t think any of us foresaw this, mother.”

“You’ve made beautiful sons, my love,” and Alys slides two fingers in her mouth to whistle. At that, the boys run up to her, a mess of flushed cheeks and toothy grins and smelling like the rich land. In their little hands they hold a big mudpie, wet and prettied with rocks and a few sticks and a daffodil. Their grandmother wipes away a chunk of dried mud along Aemion’s upper arm before taking the mudpie with a smile. “How delicious this looks! Well done, boys.”

Aenar plops himself in his mother’s lap, nestling against her chest. “You’re going to need a bath,” she tells him, kissing his forehead. His smile was exactly that of his father’s, handsome and beautiful and gallant as any prince in those court songs.

“We can always bathe them in the Gods Eye,” Alys suggests, twirling a strand of Aemion’s silver-pale hair around her finger. “I used to bathe you in it a lot. Your grandfather would say the waters strengthen the blood, keeps our own strong and mighty.”

Later, she stands before the Gods Eye, the biggest lake in all the realm, with no hint of a far shoreline to be seen in her eyes. The storm clouds had darkened it- its waters glistening like a dark metal- but it is all the same as the one from her girlhood.

And now I bathe my own sons here, she thinks quite happily, feeling her joy bubbling inside her chest. A large crack of thunder booms overhead, and it pulls her out of her thoughts.

“Aye, two little silver-haired Targaryens in its waters, would you look at that!” Alys laughs, knee-deep in the lake as well. Her long, dark hair beats about her face as she stands near the boys, cupping her hands to wash away the mud from their hair. “When might this happen next?”

And as the handmaid flattens her hand against her lower belly, ever so tenderly, she smiles, and giggles, and rushes to join her mother and children in the water.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess

[newnamesamecharlotte]

They kept saying cows watched sunsets.

At that point I wished I'd used the fucking conspiracy theorists instead of the cows.Nobody would've cared if I'd turned people inside-out who think vaccines have nanites in them that mine cryptocurrency. But cows watch sunsets, man!

Nona the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

[natequarter]

At that point I wished I’d used the fucking conspiracy theorists instead of the cows. Nobody would’ve cared if I’d turned people inside-out who think vaccines have nanites in them that mine cryptocurrency. But cows watch sunsets, man!

1) this is said with all the righteous indignation of a man who is absolutely fed up with arguing with someone who keeps on stubbornly refusing to engage with his argument at all and 2) it's a genuinely good point about how people will care more about deaths that can be posited as victims (children, women, animals, innocents in general; those who aren't seen as 'deserving' it) than the equally violent and cruel deaths of unlikeable, stupid, ignorant, or nasty people - or just anyone who people can't victimise. 3) cows watch sunsets and you should remember that :/

[kavehnanginto]

pot, meet kettle

pairings: kaveh, itto x reader

synopsis: whiny and hot men smartly decide to date the only one who can match and even beat his charisma and annoying remarks, and everyone is stuck dealing with both of your dramatic characters

tags: you are very much annoying, sweet names except for babe or baby because i hate it, fluff and cuddles, they are very sweet, fun fact the creation of this fic was made because a little birdie told me to do this i just added itto because he is my man,

Kaveh swears he is a logical man, a rational man who desires nothing more than peace and tranquility. no one really agrees with him, with all the bickering with alhaitham and squabbles with dori his reputation of being sensitive is set in stone.

But with you around it truly feels that what he said was right. Compared to Kaveh and you, Alhaitham would rather spend time in hell and dead in a casket. So whenever you were around and in his house, the scribe just seemed to disappear out of nowhere. And you were now always alone with your man.

"Why would you use that as a painting, its too abstract?" you comfortably conquered the couch while watching Kaveh hang the ugliest portrait you have ever seen since the last time he hung one. "I literally went on this five minute walk to Alhaitham's house just to see you hanging this ugly portrait rather than spending time with ME."

He gasped at such comment, he can't believe he heard such nonsense from someone as attractive and ethereal as you.

"Darling, this isn't just some painting, this cost me--"

"So? Is my worth also measured in material value? Hang that painting in the wall or you'll continue to be my lover." With the painting out of the way, you were soon delivered with happy cuddles from a beautiful portrait such as he.

"Now will I continue to be your one and only?" you pat his head, thinking about it.

"Do you really think such measly act is worth my time," he shook his head. "Now let's sleep."

He obeyed and went to sleep smoothly and always remembered to bring you to every art auction after.

Everyone had their own opinion about Itto. He was loud, obnoxious, and the reoccurring theme about his public display of affection. It was getting out of hand, even to some member of his gang (Shinobu). But to you, it was simply not enough, the mediocre singing, the wilted flowers and most recently, your very own cow.

You keep on telling him that this is not what you want and say that you will eventually return feelings once he had given you the right thing. The fact of the matter is you already fell, but he really thought a cow will make you happy. I mean it did, but let your pride take you away.

Also a goat will be nice next time, and then you saw him once more, no longer with his trusted companions, but just him.

"So pumpkin, how is your amazing self today?"

"And that is the first thing you say to me? I am here offering my time and company for you!" you huffed and he immediately apologized. "Also I'm doing great! Want to commit some crimes today?"

And just like that both of you went on a spree, you insisted he holds your hand or he never will hold your hand ever again, and also that he will bring the cow with you. It seemed that Shinobu has a lot of explaining to do, but it seems you are not in trouble.

As the day came into a close, Itto realized that commiting war crimes are even better if the person he likes is around him. But as the day comes to close, and this day of temporary joy has reached its end. The lovebirds said goodbye.

"Until we meet again, my dove." you walked away slowly, the sunset brightening you eyes.

"Farewell, my fair master." he bowed and...

You saw each other again after 45 minutes.

[abarbaricyalp]

Hi! If you're still doing the Sambucky romance ask: 🚨

You know I love a good 'mission goes awry' prompt. Sometimes Sam loses his clothes in those ones 😊 From this prompt list

This one got away from me. I don't even know what this is. CW: Mild violence, some monster things

🚨 When a mission goes awry

Bucky blinked and the giant lizard he'd been trying to choke out was no longer in his arms.

Oh no, this was not happening again.

He slowly got to his feet, squinting through the fog that was moving like it was alive. It was almost like the atmosphere of rolling around in arid dirt with the lizards, but wet where that had been dry.

"Sam?" he called out cautiously.

He was answered by an animalistic screech that had him covering his ears and turning tail.

He'd been here before. He hadn't liked it.

The multiverse had broken four days ago. Bucky and Sam had had nothing to do with it, thank you very much. They hadn't even known the multiverse was real until a handful of months ago. Bucky was still fucked up over the reality stone. He could not handle a broken multiverse.

Except that now, he had to.

If he'd thought blipping out of existence had been bad, blipping into another Bucky Barnes's existence was much worse. There did not seem to be a version of him that sat on a beautiful front porch at sunset beside Sam and watched the bees tend their garden while eating homemade blueberry pie. It was always some kind of fuckery.

This fuckery was vampires. The fog had kind of suggested it, but he was never going to forget that noise or the claws and teeth that came with it. How come vampire him was always fighting some kind of harpy?

Like he said, he didn't know anything about the multiverse. He didn't know how multiversal travel should work. Over the past four days, it had worked by swapping him and Sam with another Bucky and Sam every time they were in a fight. And Sams and Buckys got into lots of fights! The world-- every world apparently-- constantly needed to be saved. Actually, Bucky should talk to his therapist about that.

"Sam!" he called again as he ran, looking for any space in this dilapidated graveyard to hide. Last time, it had been a dilapidated castle. Much easier to hide in. Especially because he refused to jump into any of the wrenched open caskets in their upturned Graves. "Could really use some help, birdbrain!"

As if on cue, the harpy and another figure plummeted to the ground just a few feet in front of Bucky. It was a clash of talons and feathers--the worst bird fight Bucky had ever seen between New York pigeons escalated by about 100.

The harpy was a grotesque thing, half human, half bird, all demon. The man on top of it was disarmingly. Sam was always beautiful. It was just that vampire-Sam also had some bird mutation, which gave him huge wings, which grew from and encompassed the upper half of his arms and he had these bird eyes in this molten gold color that were uncannily round with the color spreading from edge to edge. When he was on the attack like this, he had a sharp break and talons instead of fingers.

Bucky was still very much into it.

The harpy wrenched itself away with another ear splitting screech and a trailing line of blood from a new wound on its gross scaly bird neck. It screeched one more time for emphasis and took to the sky, off kilter but still powerful.

When Sam turned to him, he was mostly human--or vampire?-- again. His gold eyes narrowed when he found Bucky. "You again," he groaned.

Vampire-Sam didn't like human-Bucky, Bucky had discovered last time he was dumped in this penny dreadful novel come to life.

"Have there been many others?" Bucky asked. "Have you been pulled away much?"

"Yes and yes," Sam answered. "I just got back from a cow farm in the 1900s."

Bucky grimaced. He could not fathom a cowboy version of himself. Cowboy-Sam had to be super hot though. "I think they're called ranches."

The vampire scoffed and waved a razor-nail tipped hand dismissively. "Leave," he ordered. "And bring James back."

Bucky didn't actually know how to leave, but the vampire had some ability to manipulate these crossovers.

Bucky landed in a new environment, which still didn't have giant lizards. "Oh goddammit," he growled and shoved himself to his feet again. "Sam!"

. . .

Sam landed face first in the sand. He pushed himself up and spit out wet sand before turning over onto his back. This was driveline the Gulf, he decided. No white sand beaches here and the ocean beyond was a tumultuous grey-green beneath the brilliant sunset painting the surface of it.

"Buck!" he called into the sky.

A few seconds later, the sounds of someone shuffling through the shallows interrupted the lapping of the waves. Sam looked over and felt his mouth literally drop open. He blinked against the shine of the sunset and watched Bucky come out of the waves, water cascading off of him like a commercial. He shook his shaggy hair out of his face and hiked a surfboard closer to his side as he hit the shore and had to drag it through the wet sand. He was all lithe silhouette and obvious muscle. He was missing his arm, no prosthesis in sight, and he looked like a walking advertisement. Sam's mouth was kind of dry.

He grinned a little at Sam, dropping the board into the sand to wave, and then jogged over. His pleased expression quickly fell though and he dropped to his knees next to Sam with a worried frenzy to his movements.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, man, I just tripped," Sam said.

"I would say so, yeah!" Bucky agreed. "Why do you have legs?"

Sam's brain shorted out for a moment. Normally, he had a response for everything, but he'd never been asked why he had legs. "Because I was born with them?" he hazarded.

But his response was lost in a flurry of movement and curses as Bucky got his arm around Sam's chest--wow, that was a nice feeling--and hauled him into the water. Sam futilely tried to get his feet under him, but Bucky was really strong and fast and the sand was at the soupy-sinking moment of a tide change over loose sand.

"The water will help," Bucky said in a way that suggested he was still trying to convince himself of the same thing. "Oh, God, what if it doesn't?"

Sam was more confused than he ever had been, and he'd seen people get really big and really small, talking raccoons, an assortment of aliens, rocks that altered reality, time, and space, and literal gods.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked. "Who am I here?"

Bucky squawked a little. "You're forgetting who you are? The Little Mermaid didn't cover that!"

Sam's eyebrows went up. "I'm a merman?" he asked in surprise. His mama had always said he was a water baby.

"Sam!" Bucky whined desperately.

Sam finally took total mercy on him and put a hand on Bucky's shoulder to keep him still. "Hey, calm down. I'm not your Sam," he said. "I guess you haven't had to deal with any of this yet."

Bucky stared at him, blue eyes almost orange in the sun, wide and a little naïve. God, he seemed so young. "Deal with what?" he asked

"The multiverse," Sam said. "I'm not your Sam. We swapped places."

Bucky's tanned skin drained to a more familiar color. "You have to switch back! He can't be outside of the water for long."

And, oh yeah. Shit. Sam didn't know how to control any of this. He wasn't sure how to intentionally swap out with a specific other Sam.

"Okay, okay, calm down, kiddo," Sam said softly. "These things are triggered by fights. Were you part of a battle or something?"

Bucky's face screwed to one side. "No. Why would I be? I was on the waves. But Sam wasn't with me. He could've been dealing with anything down there."

Sam looked to the expanse of ocean that Bucky gestured to. There was no way Sam could figure out where the other Sam had been, much less take up his fight again.

"Listen, I'll try my hardest," Sam said. "But I don't know how to bring him straight back. I'm not in charge of this."

"I don't care about any of that. I don't care about your multiverse. Make it bring him back," Bucky said. There was a familiar steel edge to his voice, the tone that came out when his own Bucky skipped worry and went straight to fury. The kind of emotion that usually led to Bucky making bad decisions.

"I'll try," he promised. "I need you to take a swing at me," he said, standing up and shaking water off of his arms. There was no way to wring out the suit, so that was just going to have to stay. Maybe multiversal travel came with free air-drying.

"What?" Bucky asked, looking askance. "I'm not hitting you."

"My adrenaline doesn't get right if I start it. You have to start it."

Bucky's eyes pinched in. "I ain't been in a fight in years."

Wow, Sam thought. A well adjusted Barnes. Who knew. "Come on, kid. Otherwise, I'm gonna go find a jellyfish to antagonize."

Bucky sighed, squirmed for a second, and then swung at Sam.

. . .

Bucky wandered around the great forest with deep skepticism. He wasn't sure what multiverse this was, but it seemed to be one that wasn't inhabited by anybody. What kind of fight had been happening here?

Up ahead, the dense, dark copse eased some and sunlight dappled the ground. He jogged over to it, hoping to shed some light on the situation. God, he wished there was a Sam around to say that to. The trees opened to a rolling hill and a sprawl of space that stretched on for forever.

Bucky rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and blinked at the image before him. Despite the fact that he'd just walked out of a forest, New York City was ahead of him. The buildings were half destroyed. The other half of them had been taken over by the flora of the area. Vines seemed to be tearing apart concrete and rebar. Trees grew through the middle of roads. Flowers covered every ugly grey space available.

It was kind of beautiful, if not for the fact that this was Bucky's home and every childhood memory he had was now buried. Coney Island was underwater.

Suddenly, something wrapped around Bucky's ankle and yanked him down to the ground hard. He kicked his other foot at the binding, expecting a lasso of some kind or a rope trap. Instead, he found another vine, dragging him back into the forest and a massive bush that was growing by the second.

Bucky began to kick harder and reached for the knife strapped to his thigh.

"Wait!" someone called and suddenly a man was springing into action, dropping himself across Bucky's thighs, facing his legs. He began, not to hack at the vine, but to untie it from Bucky's leg. He made remarkably quick work of it. Bucky couldn't get his charger untangled that fast. He sat back as the vine finished coiling into the bush and let out a satisfied sigh. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Bucky and grinned.

How come they were always so handsome?

The other Sam stood and offered his hand down to Bucky to haul him to his feet. "Don't think too negatively about the plants here," he said. "They always know."

Bucky nodded his acknowledgement. He took in the look of the other Sam. This one had intricate gold designs on his face and down his arms. They were radial in nature, making him look even more like sunshine than usual. "You from around here?" he asked. "What is this place?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah. I was dropped here a while ago. I'm just a fast learner."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, feeling just a little breathless after that close call. "I kind of figured with the whole--" He gestured to his face. "This seems like some future of the Earth I'm from. I know all those buildings."

Sam nodded. He walked a few steps out again, closer to the crest of the hill, and then sat down like the grass hadn't just tried to kill Bucky. "We're not even from Earth. I don't know how we keep getting caught up in Earth nonsense."

Bucky snorted. "Trust me, Earthlings get caught up in plenty of intergalactic nonsense too." His eyes went to the markings on Sam's arm again, thin, lovely lines sprawling from his elbow.

"Blue," Sam said, lifting Bucky's chin with a gold streaked finger. "Yours are blue." He traced a crescent shape around the corner of Bucky's eye. "You don't have as many. Have you ever seen yourself in one of these things?"

Bucky's face warmed and he gently removed it from Sam's touch, looking back to the death of one New York and the birth of another. "No. I think that's one of the rules. Only one of us at a time."

Sam nodded. "I've noticed that as well. But it usually begins to resolve itself when two people are in the wrong universe."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed again. "I've noticed that too."

Sam grinned at him. He was so handsome, it hurt. "I will be very happy to leave this planet again."

"Yeah, we kind of suck."

Sam reached up to trace another crescent along the joint of Bucky's right shoulder. "Maybe not all of it," he hummed.

Bucky blushed again and pulled out a knife as he turned away. "Let me go instigate something to get us out of here," he muttered. Even walking away, he could feel Sam's radiance

. . .

Sam did end up underwater, but it wasn't any kind of water a merman would want to live in. Maybe a bogman. He spit out marshy water and tried to ignore how many mosquito larvae were definitely in his mouth. There was a conveniently placed liana-type vine right on the bank and he hauled himself out of the water.

Sam was not a bayou man. There were enough horror stories in high school about idiots going missing at night and he'd been in the med-clinic waiting room once when someone had come in with an alligator bite that had taken half the meat of his arm with it. Sam did not like the bayous in practice. Which was to say, he had no idea where he was or how to get out of it.

A howl pierced through the quiet then, which only worked to send Sam's heart tripping in his chest in triple speed. He could totally use this vine to climb into a tree.

Actually, he had wings. He snapped them open and water gushed out of the pack.

Two water universes back to back, he thought with more irritation than he'd felt in a long time. Just his damn luck.

There was another howl then, much closer. Sam did begin to climb into the tree. He was stopped by a curious, "Sam?" and he looked down to find a familiar, uncanny face.

"Hey, Jamie," he greeted, relief flooding through him so quickly he almost went lightheaded.

The genetically-spliced, lab-grown werewolf looked at Sam with wide eyed curiosity. Actually, he was always wide eyed. He very much so had a dog's eyes. It had been a while since James and Bucky had swapped places in the middle of a battle (a precursor to this problem?) and Sam had ended up fighting next to the giant wolf instead of his partner. Bucky and a rougarou-Sam had shown up a while later and the fight was over pretty quickly after that.

"Is Sam around by any chance?" he tried.

"You know he isn't," James answered. It was difficult to read his expressions. He had a broad, flat nose that was as reactive as any puppy's, but usually only with disgust and anger. His pointed ears, too tall to be hidden behind his long hair, were under much better control. Sam had a cat. He looked at the ears for behavioral indicators. "I only just got back myself. I was on a planet called Venus, but not our Venus. It was...interesting." Now his nose scrunched and a cute little blush crept along his furry face.

Sam tried not to let his scowl show too much. This Sam had magic in him, which would move this all along much faster. Still, without sulking too much, Sam asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I could rip something open with my teeth. I've barely sat still for five minutes over the past week. I'm going from one fight to the next. Have you ever seen a fight on a planet of pleasure?"

Sam grimaced. "Yeah, I can't really blame you for getting mad. And I probably wouldn't stop you from going full wolf."

"As long as it's not towards you?" James finished, taking the words right from Sam's mouth.

"Wow, all Sams really are the same, huh?"

James grinned, showing off all of his long, sharp teeth. "I can send you on," he said. "Sam showed me how. I just don't know where you're going to land."

"Wow, look at you," Sam complimented. "Please do. I don't wanna start a fight with you."

"You haven't found another way for the quiet places?" James asked, raising his bushy brow. "And they say I have the anger issues."

Sam tsked at him and gestured for him to hurry up.

. . .

A galaxy stretched out below Bucky. It was like something from a painting, all swirling colors and bright spots of planets. Jewel toned galactic highways with actual jewels embedded into it. He sat in red dirt and traced nonsense letters beside himself because it kept him calm.

There was no one else up here. He'd never been sent somewhere where there was no one else. True, this was an entire planet, but it was also an empty planet and Bucky had walked for ages across barren plains and deserts before he'd finally come around one swooping crest and found this view. He'd given up at that point and decided just to wait for something to happen.

It was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. An entire cosmos swirled below him, full of twinkling lights and shining colors. He wondered what lived down there. What music did they listen to and what foods did they like and how did they sleep at night? Surely, something was falling in love at that moment. Something was laughing, something else was crying. He wondered if they were being affected by this multiverse bullshit too. Were there missing citizens? Was some version of Joaquin running around one of those lights trying to get back to wherever he belonged? Was something that lived here now fighting the lizards Bucky had been taken from?

Sam could be down there: a thought which almost made leaping off of this planet a feasible idea. He hadn't considered what would happen if he died in one of these places. Usually, all of the dangerous ones kept him too busy to wonder. The glitch would send him on before it got too hairy. The quiet ones, it was obviously not a problem. But if he did manage to leap off of a planet, would he just float aimlessly for eternity? Would he have to swim through zero gravity space to find some alien to duke it out with? Or if he did blip out with someone else, what would happen to them? Did they land on a planet again? Surely not every Bucky in the multiverses would do something as stupid as jumping into space.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," someone said from behind him.

Bucky whirled around, on his feet instantly. But all that adrenaline drained just as quickly. "Sam," he breathed. Then he was crossing over the red dust on silent steps and clutching at Sam--his Sam--as tightly as he could. It didn't matter how many times this happened; it always felt like this one could be the last.

Sam hugged him back tightly. "I knew this one was you," he said as he pressed his face to Bucky's hair. "You're always mopey-er than the others."

Bucky rolled his eyes, but he still laughed a little. "If you'd been here as long as I have, you'd be moping too," he promised. "Are you okay?" He pulled away to hold Sam's face gently. "Everywhere you went wasn't too bad?" He looked to be in one piece and the exhaustion on his face was par for the course at this point.

Sam smiled and turned his face to kiss the inside of Bucky's right wrist, feeling the flutter of his pulse for a few seconds. "It was pretty quiet. Didn't get dropped into the middle of any fights this time. What about you?"

Bucky shook his head. "I'm fine. I mean, it wasn't quiet, but I'm fine." He smoothed his thumb over Sam's cheek before stepping into his space again. "God, I missed you."

"You say that every time," Sam laughed. "From my experiences, all Sams are the same."

Bucky shook his head. "None of them are you."

Sam held him for a while longer, pressing half kisses to his head, before he finally said, "Come on, sweetheart. Let's head home."

Out of all of the nonsense about this multiverse glitch, the only fast rule was that universal pairs could send themselves home. It was like the glitch evened itself out when they found each other again. All was right in the world for those few moments.

Bucky had to agree. "Yeah, doll. Let's go home."

. . .

Back in the real Colorado, Bucky was instantly taken off his feet by a charging lizard the size of a minivan. Wheezing on the ground--the ideal position to watch Sam go soaring by above--Bucky had to at least admit, it was nice to be back where he knew the monsters and the people and the rules. At least he was home again.

[laurelsofhighever]

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Characters/pairings: Alistair x Cousland Chapter: 4/? Rating: M Warnings: Canon-typical violence Fic Summary: The story of the Fifth Blight, in a world where Alistair was raised to royalty instead of joining the Grey Wardens.

Read it on AO3

--

“Our task in the Wilds is twofold,” Warden Rhodri barked over his shoulder. He had said little as their small troupe had descended into the forest, following a scouting path until the palisade surrounding the camp had disappeared behind the trees, and now they stood on an outcrop at the edge of a small, marshy pond with the mire before them bleeding in and out of focus through banks of mist. Apart from the whining insects, the place seemed devoid of life.

“First, there are ruins to the west of here that used to be an old Grey Warden outpost. There should be documents there that we need to retrieve.”

“What kind of documents?” Daveth asked.

The Warden’s eyes narrowed. “Important ones. The second reason we’re out here involves the vials you were given. Each of you will need to fill one with darkspawn blood before we return.” He glanced upwards, calculating. “Sunset isn’t far away – we’ll have about three hours before we need to be back.”

“Is this another test?” Ser Jory’s eyes had flitted in every direction as they traipsed into the wilderness, but now they fixed into two hard, indignant points. “I’ve already proven myself. We would do better to prepare for the battle ahead –”

“Part of being a Warden means following orders,” Rhodri snapped. “We do what we must, and right now that’s heading west.” He touched his hand to the broad-headed axe belted at his side and started forward again without waiting to see if Jory had been sufficiently cowed by his words.

Daveth lingered a moment longer. “Hey, Your Ladyship – you’re going to get left behind.”

Rosslyn ignored him. A spray of delicate white flowers poked up from the moss at the base of a nearby tree stump, and she was stooped with dagger in hand to pry a clump loose from the half-frozen earth. She didn’t know which part of the plant the kennelmaster needed for his medicine, but the grim line of his mouth as they had stood over his sickening charges stuck like a burr in her mind. When she had brought him her hound Cuno, weary and footsore from their march south, the man had tutted and his whiskery grey brows had drawn down like a thundercloud as he harrumphed about the perils in asking more of an animal than it was trained for.

“There wasn’t much choice,” she had answered, stroking her dog’s ears.

“Aye, that’s truth enough to go round, and at least this one is only exhausted. I can fix that. Can’t do much for these others, though, not once the taint spreads, not now the gates are shut and no one will bring me the remedy.”

She knew which flower he meant when he described it. Nan had always called it ‘prick-my-finger’ for the daub of brilliant red at the centre of each shallow bloom; it grew in the sacred groves of the Storm Islands where only the augurs were allowed to go, and it was burnt at Alamarri funerals as an offering to the Lady of the Skies. She tried not to think about that particular use as she transferred the small treasure into a leather pouch tied to her belt, and hoped she could get it back to the kennelmaster in time.

When she straightened, Daveth still lingered at her side, his gaze a nervous dart between her and the retreating figures of Rhodri and Ser Jory. He offered her a nervous twitch of his lips.

“You waited for me.” There was no inflection to the statement, and he quailed under the intensity in her eyes.

“Yeah, well… I said I’d watch your back, didn’t I?” He shrugged. “We’re in this together, way I see it. Whatever happened to us before, we’re here now, and being a Warden is important.”

She turned away from him, fighting back memories of blood and fire and her father’s last breath spent on begging. “We should catch up with the others.”

As the party moved deeper into the Wilds, the silence around them pressed in, weaving its roots into the spaces between their ribs so that even Daveth’s attempts at humour and Ser Jory’s worrying eventually faded, and left only the faint jangle of armour to sound in the watchful forest. Warden Rhodri stalked ahead, a hulking, determined figure with clear experience as a ranger. He picked them the easiest path through gnarled copses and pools of ice-sharp water, every so often halting them to wait, watchful as a hart with the scent of a wolf on the breeze. Whatever he sensed remained a mystery to his three charges; they held their breaths, and then they moved on.

The quiet gave Rosslyn too much time to think. Numb exhaustion had dogged her footsteps on the road from Highever, a void of grief and black rage that made her biddable because it was simply too large for her comprehension, but seeing Alistair again had stirred something painful in her chest. Thoughts of him made the nightmare shrink back, but only in the manner of an awning drawn aside to reveal a vista of direct, blistering sunlight. His shoulders had filled out in the two years since she had last seen him, the angle of his jaw more defined and authority easier in the tilt of his brow, but his eyes were the same, rich and deep as a peat stream. The way he had looked her…

What bitter irony that they should be reunited now, when his title laid all before him and she – she had nothing left but blood.

Ahead of her, Ser Jory’s voice quavered as his nerves overcame him.

“Did you leave no one behind in Denerim?” he asked.

Daveth shrugged his response. “Bit of a luxury, having people to care about. There weren’t any Helenas, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What about you, Ser Rhodri?”

“I’m no ‘ser’,” the Warden replied. “And no, there’s no one waiting for me.”

“I am sorry.” Jory ducked his head. “When I see my wife again, this will all be worth it. Knowing I kept her and our child safe.”

Rhodri’s gaze flickered back over his shoulder, but he made no reply. The furrow in his brow spoke eloquently enough to Rosslyn, who recognised the weight of unspoken guilt as the same shadow that had coloured Duncan’s words as he dragged her away from her home, her duty. It hadn’t stopped him. She doubted Rhodri would do better; his two other, blithe charges failed to notice the way his shoulders hunched as they chatted in low voices about bright futures, shrinking away from the truth that they were all dead soldiers marching.

Unwilling to draw attention to herself, to have Ser Jory ask after Highever and the people left behind, she turned away to watch the trees. The lack of birds disturbed her. In her father’s woods, the eaves teemed with game and the warbling songs of thrush, robin, and wren. The orchard hummed with bees in the spring and swelled with bright red apples in the summer– and all of it was now no more than a memory, a pyre burnt out and left to scatter in the wind. All of it her fault.

A flutter of blue caught her attention. Her hand went to her sword hilt, just for a moment before recognition hit. So familiar her heart thundered to be out of her chest, the sight set her off running before the decision consciously registered in her mind. The shouts behind her fell away in the crash of underbrush as she dived towards the banner, the golden Laurels on a blue field, which she had last seen crowning the ranks of the army, gleaming as it passed through the barbican onto the Imperial Highway.

Flies startled up in a black cloud as she burst through the final layer of scrub and came to stand in a squelch of mud in the middle of a massacre. Bodies lined the trail, darkspawn and humans both, some strung out like beads and others bunched together in knots where the fighting had been more sustained. The soldiers wore the standard leather face guards she had seen on those in the camp, covering the mouth and nose to avoid ingesting darkspawn ichor, but they had mostly fallen before they could draw their weapons, struck from above by a hail of crudely fletched arrows. Some had been taken to pieces. Parts were missing.

“Maker have mercy,” Jory breathed, when he and the others caught up. “Those are darkspawn?”

Rhodri grunted. “Hurlocks. Less clever than genlocks, but stronger.”

The ringing in Rosslyn’s ears meant she barely heard the exchange. Sword drawn, she picked her way through the carnage, the pit in her stomach growing more cavernous with every face she peered into that wasn’t her brother’s.

“What if they’re still around, waiting to ambush us right now?” Daveth’s voice, clipped and shrill.

“Part of a Grey Warden’s skill is the ability to sense ‘spawn, and mine tells me they’ve gone. East, to be specific. Half a day ago.”

“This darkspawn sense…” Jory started. “This is why we’ve been brought out here? To learn it?”

“In a manner.”

They were all Cousland dead. Infantry, lightly armoured, not house guard. She had trained with some of them, recognised them even under the blood spatter and the mud, though she didn’t know their names. None of them was Fergus.

“Help…”

She spun so quickly to the noise her neck cracked. The others heard it too, and the scrape of blades being drawn accompanied her steps towards its source. A soldier looked up at her, blue eyes creased with pain and his gauntlets bloody where he held them to the wound in his side. He had managed to prop himself up against a log, but there was no movement in him now except the laboured, uneven rise and fall of his breathing.

“Easy, sergeant,” Rosslyn murmured as she crouched next to him.

“My… my lady.” He gasped. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She swallowed. “Tell me what happened. Where is my brother?”

“Don’t… know…”

“Easy,” she repeated. A glance down told her he would not last.

I won’t survive the standing, I think. She pushed the thought away.

“The ‘spawn attacked us. We… we gave him time… to get away. I got knocked down. They thought… thought I was dead.” He tried a laugh; a bubble of blood collected at the corner of his mouth. “Not long now… eh? Been waiting…”

His eyes rolled back in his head, his breath a laboured gurgle that made her want to scream, but before she could flinch away he lunged for her, bloodied grip iron-strong on her arm. “You make them pay,” he hissed. “It’s up to you. It’s –”

The grip fell slack, the eyes cold. All she could do was stare at him.

It was Rhodri who stepped in to close the man’s eyelids and mutter an invocation to the Lady, a prayer she recognised. Her mother had taught it to her, along with many other things about the Alamarri gods, but when she had fled Highever, she had not even thought to voice it.

“What do we do now?” Jory asked.

“We need to deal with the ‘spawn that did this. They’ll be a threat this close to the camp otherwise.” Rhodri straightened, collected himself. “Keep your weapons out and your eyes sharp, and no talking. And you,” he added to Rosslyn once the other two were out of earshot, “never rush in and endanger your comrades like that again.”

She rose to her feet and tilted her chin, owning the extra inch or so she had on his height as she stared down eyes prematurely lined by care. “Or what? They might not have worked out yet what’s meant for us, but I’m no fool. You Wardens are fond of secrets, taking advantage of dying men to get what you want.”

“I know what happened to you,” he growled. “But you still breathe, and this is now the path you walk.”

For a moment, she contemplated what would happen if she gutted him, and simply ran – to find Fergus or else to return to Highever and take the vengeance she had promised to those left behind – but the thought flashed away again quick as a marshlight. So close, her blade would not miss, but in killing Rhodri she would condemn Daveth and Jory as well, left to the mercy of the darkspawn and an uncertain path back through the trees. Besides that, she didn’t have supplies for a long journey, only a small waterskin and no hunting bow or arrows; she had been taught how to survive in hostile country, but the first rule was always to avoid getting stuck unprepared. An unfamiliar forest in Guardian, where animals were scarce and edible leaves lay buried under layers of snow and earth, would not take long to prove her folly.

The Warden saw some of her intent in her expression, but did not flinch from it, only waited for it to pass into something less dishonourable. When she dropped her gaze from his and stalked away, the grip on his axe eased and he fell into step behind her, chivvying them all along the trail like a shepherd.

--

When they finally caught up with the darkspawn after another half an hour of walking, it was the noise and the stench of the creatures that betrayed them. They took no pains to hide themselves. Some of the trees had been cut down, and on their stripped trunks body parts and bones had been hung like Summerday garlands, with rude images of eyes and fanged mouths painted in blood beneath. From the clearing beyond, snarls and guttural strings of sound that might have been language echoed and bounced back towards them from the walls of the rocky outcrop they were using for shelter. A fire painted their shadows huge and grotesque against the stone, unaware of the group of Wardens creeping closer.

Rhodri signalled for the recruits to wait at the base of a crumbled statue that had been augmented with flayed horse ribs, the bones strapped to its back and spread wide in a grotesque semblance of wings. One lone hurlock loitered by the path beyond the reach of the fire, but only until the Warden closed the distance like a cat and slit its throat. With the scout dispatched, he gestured the advance. Rosslyn crouched and tested her way forward, shield low and sword held in a reverse grip to keep it from snagging on any errant branches. When she reached her chosen hiding spot, she pulled the leather guard up over the bridge of her nose, her gaze flicking between the shadow where Rhodri waited to give the signal to attack, and the rabble of darkspawn in front of her that squabbled over scraps of unidentified, half-cooked meat.

She forced herself not to look away from them, with their rough, ashen skin and bloodshot eyes. The clothes they wore were patchy and ill-made from animal hide and pieces of rotting cloth, their limbs sometimes guarded by mismatched armour but more often bare, exposed, showing easy points to strike. One was bigger than the others; it sat watching the arguments of its cohorts rather than joining in, its crude, horned helmet given a deference that singled it out as well as a battle standard to her tactically trained eye. Her muscles tensed, ready.

Rhodri burst from his hiding place with a wordless battle cry. The darkspawn turned. Their shrieks rose to a cacophony as Daveth and Jory added to the fray. Rosslyn saw her chance – the leader’s back turned as it hefted a rusty, two-handed axe – and she sprang for its unprotected back. Shield up, like she had been taught, to protect from any overhead blow, she aimed low and severed its hamstrings before rising in a graceful arc to sink her sword point into its armpit. Snarling, it died before it fully hit the floor, and somehow the rest of them felt it. They scattered like leaves, burbling with panic, and they were easy to put down.

A savage smile grew behind her mask with each new hurlock she felled; the inferno twisting inside her sprang loose, bereft of the targets it truly wanted to consume, and sated itself instead on the lives of the monsters scattering before her fury. Her sword flashed like molten copper in the firelight, her bulk a battering ram, her blows as precise as the strike of a heron into the water.

When it was over, her battle-blood spent and no enemies left standing, the other recruits hung back, wary. The winter air sawed in her lungs, black ichor dripping from her blade, and behind the leather mask the wolf’s grin still hung on her lips like it had the first time she had bested one of her instructor’s elite exercises.

Across the clearing, Jory shivered and poked the closest corpse with the point of his sword. “These truly are foul creatures. Even when my mother used them to scare me into behaving as a boy, I never imagined something so… horrifying.”

“You need a convenient bucket to lose your lunch in, Ser Knight?”

“There’s not much time,” Rhodri interrupted. “Collect your blood, then we move on.”

The two recruits bent to their task without complaint, though both sent sidelong glances her way as they held their glass vials to the wounds on the slain darkspawn and replaced the stoppers.

“What will the blood be used for?” she asked, without moving.

“It’s proof of your skills, for one thing,” came the answer, with a faint trace of hesitation. Rhodri frowned down at the hurlock leader. “Not many could kill an alpha so cleanly. You did well. Now come.”

The ruins of the Warden tower could be seen over the lip of the hollow. They had to cross a stream and mount a hill, following deer tracks past the charred remains of some ritual circle scattered with ash, but when they reached the circle of crumbling walls, Rosslyn doubted anything so delicate as parchment could have survived the weathering of what must surely have been ages. Bushes grew up between the old tiles and cracks in the wall, creepers strangled window frames whose glass had long since crumbled into sand, and a deep scent of green rot hung in the frigid air, trailing along exposed skin like the caress of a fingertip. While Rosslyn and Daveth kept watch, the others forced their way into the tower itself, through a door that fell to rusty, mouldering pieces under the blows of axe and shield.

“Where is it?”

“The chest should be somewhere over – no.”

There were shuffling noises, the sound of heavy stones being thrown on to soft earth, and with a flurry of curses the two men emerged a few moments later, coated in mud up to the calf and a confetti of wet leaves that stuck to their armour.

“Where’s the treaties?” Daveth asked.

“Gone,” Rhodri answered shortly. “Rotted away or stolen.”

“A beam collapsed on top of the chest they were stored in and broke the enchantment,” Jory added helpfully.

“So what do we do now?”

Rhodri shook his head and glanced back to the tower room, his mouth pulled down in a frustrated line. “We must return to the camp before dark.”

Already the sky had darkened, a bank of low, heavy cloud creeping from the southwest, but no rain fell. The whole forest stretched out beneath the crest of the ruined hill, a maze of narrow paths and a thousand places for the darkspawn to swarm through, to leach into Ferelden like ink spilled across paper. The group they had killed was just a small drop in the bulk of the horde, and they had only been so quickly defeated because they were taken off-guard, had needed an instant to reach for their weapons. As they started the winding route back to the encampment, the look that passed between Rosslyn and the other recruits showed she wasn’t the only one worried that the coming battle would not be so easy.

[kcbutontblr]

adam once asked ronan why he believed in god. "why? you can create things out of dreams, wouldn't that make you a god?"

it was summer, hot and humid, opal sat next to adam on the porch railing as ronan tended to a dreamed flower bed that grew dandelions and tulips all year 'round. opal tugged at adam's shirt until he handed over his ice cream.

"who do you think gave me the dreams to begin with, jackass?" ronan had responded, wiping his forehead and leaving a dirt smear across his skin, "why don't you believe in god? i mean, dude, you talk to trees."

adam's eyebrows knit together as he looks away from ronan. god had always been a weapon before ronan. adam's father saying god should've given him a better son, a normal son. adam's father would tell him that if god existed, he gave up on adam long ago. that adam didn't deserve a god to look out for him. adam would pray on nights when his father was more violent than others. eventually, he stopped. he realized god wasn't coming. he would have to save himself.

by the time adam looked back to ronan, his frown had gone from annoyed to worried. "you ok, parrish?" he asked. opal had taken his hand absentmindedly, her eyes trained on the dreamt cows that were pink and blue and orange.

adam nodded. "maybe i do believe." he shrugged. maybe god wasn't a man in the sky who would come down and smite every person who laid a hand on adam and make all of adam's problems disappear with the snap of his fingers. maybe god was a six foot boy who had sunset colored cows and magic flowers and a daughter who loved ice cream and had hooves. maybe god was the content feeling adam had in his chest everytime he watched the stars at the barns. maybe adam parrish was a god in his own right.

ronan's frown deepened, "you're so fucking weird, man." adam just laughed.

[nadiegesabate1990]

the massacre

The story does not tell in detail how the systematic extermination of the Indians took place. I am of Indian descent and have Indian blood. I've only seen and heard some Indians in video game movies like Pocahontas and my favorite game Turok.

But society raises us like cows to graze. The cow is eating grass by the roots and in a few years it is dead.

But she falls into the trap of processed foods and drugs. And the idiots who control us or try to control us are the rich people in society. So how did Europeans exterminate the Indians?

Ah, first they brought us diseases, and then alcohol and drugs.

Man, this thing here becomes poison in your body if you don't know how to use it. I used it until it burst. But when I see society I think of a big pasture, what is happening here? And some idiot says: they are ignoring you because you are poor and in your country the conflicts are racial, religious and political.

Yes, I think you're right. A game that marked my childhood was Sunset Riders. I wanted to be a cowboy. And then there's the Power Rangers game, I love the background music….. The actor is some kind of Indian. But I'm the red ranger.

At the time of the colonizers, there was too much land for too few Indians, so it was very easy to invade Indian lands. The lands located in North America and South America had become pioneer areas for the occupation and settlement of foreign immigrants. But what then?

I read something like that in history books, I think it was to continue European expansion and I only know these things from watching western films.

In my region, however, it was inhabited by Indians, we were never hostile to the colonizer. On the contrary, they were good and shared the land, and there was a little left for everyone. But when they mixed the Bible with politics, a very bad and dangerous thing happened. And they converted to Christianity, they became soldiers, they became traitors.

Other idiots start saying; you are an atheist. That's why I'm going to write it here in a few words; For these people God is money. Yes, this is a traitor of the most adjective type. And don't forget to count the attendance of the faithful at church.

When I saw the movie Pocahontas, the Indians were good hunters, they used large bows, they wove vegetable fibers, they produced baskets and baskets. The diet was corn-based. And there really was no money in indigenous society, and everything they produced they shared with their people.

I'm half Indian and the only thing I have left is the pleasure of shaving my hair. I like to leave it just on top of the head, in a circle, forming a crown. I saw some films where European priests left their hair like that and soldiers in the Second World War also shaved their hair.

And I think we have something in common. That's why Americans are called Yankees. With that mohawk cut hair. But we have 'hostility' causing enormous difficulties for the first immigrants who settled in the region.

Many were fatal victims of attacks by the Indians (the Indians who did not like the whites) and who began to use knives, axes and even firearms taken from the camps they plundered. The racist whites against the Indians were no less violent, they occupied the territory, spread diseases on purpose, and we have armed persecution, the traitorous Indians "the mercenaries" hired to "hunt other Indians".

We have another movie; Once upon a time in the West, the conflict reached its peak when construction of the railroad began, connecting the big city to the interior, on the border of that country. At the end of the film, the railway crosses Indian territory, the troops of workers are no longer Indians, but black Africans hired to "clean the land" and expel the Indians.

I'm in a similar situation. The attacks usually occur in the early hours of the morning, when the family is sleeping. What's up? I don't know, I think they're traitors. Cheating on a partner? And is that all? Yes! They make sudden turns to escape pursuit or to avoid being raped.

Then, afraid of anyone who looks like them, even "lookalikes" from other neighboring cities who are being persecuted.

The city is being decimated.

But I am very afraid that the food could be poisoned to reach the survivors. Sometimes I even react with violence against these Nazi workers. These idiots who exploit the workers' efforts.

In fact, they are preventing me from working and earning my money. The idiots from other neighboring cities who want to steal jobs.

There will come a time when there will be a direct confrontation between me and the idiots.

But in previous years, my region experienced a climate of civil war, in which a large part of the population was directly or indirectly involved.

This year, the attacks increased and, in an ambush, 30 idiot employees from a certain supermarket tried to expel me from the store, and the last one in another supermarket with more than 100 people, close to my city.

The scale of the violence has repercussions throughout the country and the police are trying to request the deployment of troops to guarantee security.

At an international level, I am trying to denounce the "massacre". To face criticism, the President does not give us any protection. We cannot use firearms.

At the beginning of 2018, I saw an army battalion arrive in my city to stop white activity and avoid new clashes.

Hardly, the cynical delegate and the pastor priest made their first contact by 'making friends' with the idiots. And peace?

The population is increasing and with outbreaks of flu illnesses, I at least have relatives living in the three small villages demarcated near the city.

[recitedemise]

ooh wax poetic please!! ♡

Send ‘wax poetic’ for Gale to work some poetry; his muse is you: still accepting.

There is something about him that goes beyond age, isn't there? Watching how the cracking of dawn scorches him golden, silhouette blazed and amber-torched, Daemos looms like those palaces of old. He's its bailey by the sunset; he's its view to the east.

You're the wonders of a kingdom at its mightiest of heights, unwithering in the face of time's vast scourges. He is tall and stony, magical in skill, and you have only preserved in spite of it.

Yes. Gale, abandoning his tent, starts, by the gods, I would brave your parapets. I trust you, he thinks. His past is a mystery, mind stone-archways that would fold to a maze, but Gale knows luster; he hales from Waterdeep. And neither cowed by greatness nor bottomless riddles, where this man will guide him, he will follow.

(Even should his halls take him to a chapel.) "Morning." (There's a corpse at the altar and the dead at his feet.) "Slept well, I hope?"

[mogwai-movie-house]

Hello! I would like to ask two questions, actually.

From what I can judge, you seem to enjoy watching and reviewing movies. Do you also watch TV series sometimes and if yes, what are the ones you would say are genuinely worth watching? (except Succession, and I also know that shows like Mad Men, Sopranos and the Wire are considered to be some of the prime TV examples.)

What are your favorite old Hollywood classics?

Thank you!

Howdy,

I can see from looking at your blog that you like Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul, and I really can't think of any better-realized shows than those. Their creators really stuck the landing and told a perfect, clear story from the beginning to the end, which is where most other shows seem to fall down: the first 4 seasons of Game of Thrones might be the best TV show ever made, but the last 2 or 3 might be the very worst; the same goes for Rick & Morty (first 4 seasons perfect, last couple a disaster). The Simpsons was the best show on TV for the first 13 or so seasons, but has been a dull and unfunny walking corpse of its former self for over two decades now, which is terrible to see. South Park was at the very peak of human achievement in that medium for over 20 years, but then hit a very tiresome and uneven patch a few years back and hasn't really recovered, though it's always worth a look. The first 3 seasons of Arrested Development are perfection; the last two are dismal. The first season of True Detective is mostly excellent; the rest just get worse and worse. So decline in quality is probably the greatest issue with even the greatest shows, particularly in America, where the makers tend to view a hit show as a cash cow they can keep on milking until it dies, rather than a story needing telling with a beginning, middle and end, like a good film or a book.

I never really clicked with Mad Men: I had an ex-girlfriend who was hooked on it, and I tried to watch a couple of episodes with her, but I just couldn't connect. I could see that it did a nice job of recreating the physical details of the era in which it was set, but was completely anachronistic in its depiction of the people, their words, actions and motivations, none of which seemed at all real to me, and all clearly in the service of creating some very clumsy feminist strawmen to attack, while also perversely reveling in it. In some ways it seemed to me a test run for The Handmaid's Tale (or 50 Shades of Grey); a fetishization of real-or-imagined female victimhood, consumed overwhelmingly by women who found a strange mix of pleasure in the pretty clothes and smartly dressed aloof, boorish and powerful men they delight in hating but secretly want to bang. I can see some people must have felt they found more than that in it, but I just don't seem to be the audience for it.

My favourite shows in recent years have been Inside No. 9, Rick & Morty and Black Mirror, though the quality of all of them has become much more patchy. Get Shorty is not at that level but very enjoyable. Curb Your Enthusiasm has remained consistently slight but fun. The White Lotus and Enlightened are both good.

Further back I would list Extras, The Office (the original UK show) and Life's Too Short, all perfectly realized from start to end. Same goes for Spaced, Father Ted and I'm Alan Partridge. Northern Exposure and Buffy The Vampire Slayer are both wondrous and unique, though the last season of each goes downhill. I loved Community (first 3 seasons) and Louie. Then obviously things like the original Twilight Zone and Star Trek. I really enjoyed Lena Dunham's Girls, too, though I haven't gone back to rewatch it.

There are too many great films from the past to list, but if I were to try recommend some of the classics to people unfamiliar with anything before their own schooldays, off the top of my head I would probably say Sunset Blvd (1950), The Third Man (1949), The Night Of The Hunter (1955), His Girl Friday (1940), It Happened One Night (1934), The Ladykillers (1955), North by Northwest (1959), Le Plaisir (1952), The Kid (1921), The Gold Rush (1925), City Lights (1930), The Last Command (1928), and Black Narcissus (1947). All of them are strikingly original and perfectly-realized stories that satisfy in a way all films should but almost all present-day films are incapable of doing.

[iviarellereads]

Nona the Ninth, John 19:18(1)

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(No icon) In which someone wishes he hadn't signed up for the cool cow facts newsletter the way he did.

The water keeps rising in the dream. He raises some land that was covered by the sea. She asks him if it's hard, but he says the hard part "was remembering that he could do it, and not just doing things the old difficult way."(2) On the newly exposed land is a concrete building, surrounded by cracked bone.(3) They don't go near it.

He says, there wasn't much time left, but the old financial backers for his project were the most scared of them. They kept trying to say that John was working with this or that country, to prove what he was doing wasn't real. John just kept offering to help.

They all had warrants for arrest from interpol. Sometimes, people would ask to leave the compound, and he let them, whether they were reporting back to the CIA or scared of being caught there. He didn't care, really, because he only really trusted his inner circle anyway.

He tried to bring Ulysses and Titania back from the dead, but couldn't make it work. The nun said their souls were gone, and it took him a long time to listen to her. Both of them were right, but that's a different part of the story.

In the dream, he gets angry, storms off, kicks rocks. Eventually he comes back, and says, they took the ships away and said they'd be focusing on FTL instead, faster-than-light, even though it was never really about light speed. They claimed the cryo plan got shut down because it wasn't safe enough, they'd only got it down to an 8% chance of permanent damage, and they never fixed maternity--

Here he broke off and couldn’t speak for a while. When he spoke again he said, We were the ones who argued them down to 8%. They were ready to go when we were just in the seventies, they were all, ooh, everyone knows it’s a risk, and it’s not like it’s thirty percent fatality, it’s thirty percent chance of damage, what’s that even, ooh. He said, They hadn’t given a fuck about maternity, said people should terminate before they got packed as a rule. When M— had been all, I will not accept those numbers, I will not accept a plan that incorporates reproductive injustice,(4) and we stood beside her, we said that’s not acceptable, they whinged about the money for a while and eventually said fine. And now they were acting like eight percent wasn’t good enough. Like we hadn’t tried.

The trillionaires were acting as though they had made the holy grail, when it was obvious to John that something was wrong, and A- pointed out some flaws in the plan. The trillionaires said they'd send out twelve ships first, a proof of concept to set up beacon frequencies for the others to follow.

He said, We knew how much those ships cost. We couldn’t even imagine how much FTL engines cost, but we could guess. We knew how much each ship could carry. In the cryo cans, we could cram in billions, that was cryo’s saving grace. Whereas they were staffing ships with a living crew, no sleepers, big-ass ships with thousands of live staff. When we pointed that out they kept saying we were crazy, we were kooks, we were monsters. They kept saying cows watched sunsets. At that point I wished I’d used the fucking conspiracy theorists instead of the cows. Nobody would’ve cared if I’d turned people inside-out who think vaccines have nanites in them that mine cryptocurrency.(5) But cows watch sunsets, man!

M- said this was why they took the cryo plan away in the first place. The rich rats wanted to scatter to safety and leave the rest behind. A- agreed, which just made it worse. He wasn't even sure the FTL claim was real. John assured them that no one would fall for it, they'd have to give numbers, they'd have to prove they were making the other ships. Look at the uproar when he "proved magic was real and turned Bidibidi inside out(6) because we didn’t trust the cops." There's no way they could pull it off.(7)

At that moment in the dream he got up off the car, and he said, “Fuck,” in a normal voice, and then he said, “FUCK,” so loudly that it echoed off the crumbling concrete shell and the bones and was carried off into the mist. She watched him walk the field, three times, five times, ten. On the eleventh, he squelched through the mud to her and collapsed in front of the car and he said, They left you, they left you. They saw you suffering on dollar-shop life-support, and they didn’t look back. They didn’t give a fuck about trying to save you. They left. She said, "I don't remember." He said, "I can't forget."

=====

(1) John 19:18 is "Where they crucified him, and with him two others, one on each side, and Jesus in the midst." Not quite as relevant, John isn't exactly crucified here… though, his reputation is. A1Z26 brings us to THETOWERHASR. The tower (or Tower?) has what? Good question, next question. (2) Remembering that he can do this, because it's a lucid dream, and you can control things in those? Or does he have yet more powers we don't know yet? (3) The facility. (4) Makes Mercy's reaction to Wake's use of the samples look just a little different in hindsight, if you go back to Harrow chapter 50. (5) Explicit reference to actual modern conspiracy theory in our actual real world. (6) I can find that Bidibidi is a village in Uganda that became a refugee camp, and that there's a bush by the scientific name of acaena novae-zelandiae that's commonly known as "red bidibid". I don't know why or how something called Bidibidi was turned inside out. Help is once again welcomed! (7) I dunno about you, but I have a funny feeling the trillionaires did not, in fact, end up pulling off this escape.

[cursestothemoon]

I don’t know I’d this is enough for a headcanon or blurb or anything but I’ve been trying to think of more NSFW stuff and my mind went back to the American!reader things you’ve done with Fred so far and I can totally see Fred getting his American girlfriend a cowboy hat to wear while riding him because “cowgirls are an important part of your culture” and he just wants to “show his support for your roots”

Save a Horse, Ride a Ginger 

F.W. X FEM!AMERICAN!READER

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW

Warnings: NSFW, vaginal sex, praise, teasing, language, slapping/spanking, finger sucking, unedited because its just on brand at this point

“Love, could you come here for a second?”

The sound of your boyfriend calling you stole your attention away from Molly and the scarf you were trying to knit. You stood up, apologizing to Molly for the interruption- though she didn't seem to mind much- and made your way to the living room. 

The Weasley siblings, along with Harry and Hermione, were sitting around the tv (a muggle television set Hermione had gifted them two Christmases ago) with random DVD’s strewn across the floor. Picking one up, you turned it over as you moved to sit next to Fred on the floor.

“What’s with all the movies?” You asked, reading a few of the titles. 

Fred turned to you holding up one of the plastic dvd cases, “We wanted to learn about your roots, your history, so we asked Charlie send over some stuff from where he is in America.”

You glanced back at the movie in hand, “Fred you’re holding up A Fistful of Dollars.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Fistful of doll-what? No, I’m holding a movie disc, love.”

“Freddie, that’s the name of the movie and besides, even if this was a accurate historical movie, which it’s not, it’s not even about my history...I’m from Seattle.”

He landed a flick to your forehead before pulling you into his lap, “Just be quiet while I learn about the Americans.”

The movie, one you’ve seen a few times already, came to end as the credits rolled and the Man With No Name rode off on his horse into the sunset. 

“Amazing...” Ron breathed out making you laugh. 

You were still in Fred’s lap, his hands holding your hips as you shifted to get comfortable. The action made Fred’s breath hitch, he was already turned on as it was and you just happened to notice. 

“Really? Clint Eastwood did it for you?” 

Your teasing tone made Fred pinch your butt in warning.

“No, but the idea of you riding me with a cute little cowboy hat on definitely did it for me.” He whispered huskily into your ear, his warm breath hitting the shell of your ear making goosebumps erupt down your neck. 

You turned to into his eyes, the lust swimming in his honey brown irises sent jolts of need to your core. 

“Too bad we don’t have one.”

Fred nodded, a glint of mischief burning bright in his eyes, “Yeah, too bad.”

In hindsight, you should’ve seen it coming. Whenever Fred wanted something he got, through whatever means necessary- this time it was a brother in America with a sense of humor just like his younger brother’s. 

Now here you were, straddling Fred’s bare hips as he placed a cow print cowgirl hat with a bedazzled brim on your head, the drawstring left to hang in the valley of your breasts. 

“Is this really necessary?” You smirked, starting to slowly grind your wet cunt over his hard cock making him close his eyes and take in a breath. 

“Is it necessary, she asks. It is absolutely necessary, this is an important part of your culture.”

You continued to drag your hips over his creating a delicious friction that had your head lolling back and lips parting to let a breathy moan slip by. His hands helped guid your hips, pushing and pulling you against himself. A response was lost on your tongue as you whined at the feeling of Fred lifting your hips off of him and ceasing the friction. He used one hand to position himself at your entrance, pulling you to sit down fully on his cock.

Fred moved his hands from your hips to your tits, massaging the flesh and rolling your nipples between his fingers before landing a slap on your right breast making you gasp.

“Go on then, want my little cowgirl to ride me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, rolling your hips against his a few times before lifting up and then dropping back down, coating his prick in your arousal. 

Fred wrapped his right hand around your throat with little pressure while the other one trailed down to your clit, his thumb circling the aching nub roughly. You couldn’t help but cry out as you picked up your pace, your hips moving in half circles and figure eights to rub you just right.

Needing to ground yourself you placed one hand on Fred’s chest and held onto his forearm with the other, making him apply more pressure around your throat. The drawstring of the cowgirl hat was hitting your skin with each lift and drop of your hips. 

You were losing your power fast, becoming putty in Fred’s hands, and he could tell. As you let out another loud moan, he sat up making himself shift inside of you and hitting places that had you doubling of in pleasure and vision going fuzzy. His arm wrapped around your waist to hold you up and help you move on his cock. 

“That’s it, love, keep go- fuck- just like that.” He grunted, using his hold on your body to speed up your movements. 

Your head dropped into the crook of his neck, the skin warm and balmy and inviting. Your lips danced across the expanse of his neck and travelled up under his ear kissing and sucking with a fervent passion. Fred was doing the same to the top of your breasts, your tits littered with red and purple bites and bruises. 

An orgasm was fast approaching both you and Fred, his higher pitched whines and whimpers a clear sign to you and your clenching pussy a sign to him. He bit down on your earlobe as he moved you quicker, each time having the head of his swollen cock prodding at your g-spot relentlessly. 

“Wanna suck on your fingers when I cum.” You muttered into his neck before lifting your head up and opening your mouth for his fingers. 

Fred placed his index and middle finger on your tongue and you were quick to wrap your lips around them suck. You held his wrist with one hand, the other going on his shoulder to brace yourself as you bounced on his dick faster and getting him deeper inside you. 

Soon enough Fred could feel the unmistakable feeling of his balls drawing up, tensing as he neared spilling over the edge of his orgasm. He looked up to drink you in, your flushed face, eyes rolling back in pleasure, lips parted to let the sweetest sounds come from them, and lastly the cowgirl hat atop your head that pulled it all in together. The sight was positively pornographic, his American cowgirl riding him with a heaving chest and aching cunt.

“I’m- I wanna cum.” Your voice brought Fred back to reality. 

His free hand went to grab a handful of your ass, groping the flesh roughly and using the leverage to pull you down onto himself harder.

“Cum.”

It was all you needed to hear to let out a choked sob as your walls tightened around Fred, cumming on his cock. He wasn’t far behind, pressing your hips down onto his roughly, bottoming out, and stilled as he came inside of you, your walls milking him completely. His hot seed coating your walls, filling you up. The feeling so good, making you thank your lucky stars that you were on birth control and din’t have to worry about the consequences.

Fred held you close as you came down from your highs, pressing loving kisses on your shoulder blade. 

“You look so sexy in that bloody hat.” Fred sighed with a chuckle. 

The statement made you giggle into his neck, suddenly feeling bashful in your post orgasm bliss. At your response, Fred turned his head to place a kiss on your jaw then on your cheek before you made a move to pull yourself off of him. 

Fred whined, “No, stay...just a bit longer.”

You placed a kiss onto his forehead, lips smearing against his warm skin before moving to place a kiss on his nose, resting your forehead against his. Fred shifted so he was laying down on his side, as are you, with your leg hiked over his hip and face nuzzled into his bare chest while his cock- now flaccid- was still in you keeping you pleasantly stretched around him. The cowgirl hat had been removed and placed carefully on your nightstand, for later use. Fred bent awkwardly to grab the blanket and pull it over the two of you as he felt your breathing start to even. He tucked the edge of the blanket under your chin and watched as you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, face still in his chest and soft breaths hitting his skin. 

Fred fell asleep moments later, cock still warm and tucked inside your cunt, and holding you to his chest.

His American cowgirl

tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@erinblack003

@famdomhideout

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge

@maybesandohnos

@therealhouseelvesofhogwarts

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL

March 2021 Part 4

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. 

This is a LONG ONE, it’s been A WEEK everyone. 

Ongoing Series - Thai

Lovely Writer Ep 5 - a little slow this week, but at least Gene finally flirted back, and very cute flirting it was, too. Also we got Aey’s motivation, background, and love interest. Thank goodness for that. 

Brothers Ep 8 - still pants, what can I say? Clearly I am a BL masochist. Very embarrassing for everyone concerned. 

1000 Stars Ep 9 - the conflict over Tian’s father was REALLY well done. The plot of this drama is excellent, the leads are great together, and yes I totally cried. What, you didn’t? 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Word of Honor (China) Ep 16-18 - big battle fighty fighty stabby stabby. Ep 17 switches to “this drama isn’t big enough for two chaotic-neutral godlings!” So what do they do? Drink together and bicker... A LOT. Then in Ep 18 we all get the dubious joy of really freaky puppets. (I HATE puppets.) Also how is China letting this be so SO VERY VERY GAY?  Also, I wanna walk through the forest wearing a smanshy purple robe and waving a big fuck-off white fan around simply because I’m a pretentious fuss monger. And frankly, I feel like this is an achievable life goal for me. 

We Best Love 2 (Taiwan) Ep 4 - not gonna lie, this is looking to be one of my top 3 BLs of 2021. It’s SO GOOD. Big bonus to this ep for treating stalker behavior like the mental illness it is and not as some dumb representation of enduring love. 

The Most Peaceful Place is My Place (Vietnam) Ep 1 - finally dropped (find it under NƠI BÌNH YÊN NHẤT LÀ VỀ BÊN EM on O2′s channel). It’s got actors already comfortable with BL and looks pretty good so far. An angry tsundere uke reunited with his ex, a stoic chef, giving us lots of snap, crackle, and pop out the gate. 

Dear Uranus (Taiwan GL) Ep 2 - I want to love it, but it is just moving too fast. There’s not enough character dev and then they’re throwing flashbacks in? It feels like a treatment rather than a show, and a rushed treatment at that. Bummer. 

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 2 (AKA Ep 3-4) - let the cheesy popcorn continue! Idiot remains an idiot; ingenue remains an ice queen; nice gay guy remains nice and gay; obsessive stalker brother is getting ever more whackadoddle. Of course these last two have the best chemistry. (It’s caregiver codependency and the salvation trope. We got us a Leo/Fiat situation going on.​) Plus lots of classic BL tropes because OF COURSE there are lots of tropes. 

Occasionally, I am tempted to argue that shows like H4 or Cherry Magic or Ossan’s Love aren’t technically BL because of the office setting and age of the protags - but then they all behave like high school students anyway, so *shrug* 

Stand Alones

Cute little Taiwanese micro BL Friend or Lover dropped, about bisexual realization within a friendship group. Normally these are too short for me, but this one did pretty good with its 15 minutes of charm, plus it’s abad boy + shy softy pairing. 

Breaking News - Thai BL

Fish Upon the Sky released its actual trailer. The upside-down kiss is gone, which makes everyone sad, and it seems far less rivals to lovers than the first iteration, which makes ME sad. But it still looks good and a more classic BL than GMMTV has given us in a while. New trailer focused more on the makeover trope and they’ve upped Mix’s role (the object of everyone’s affection) now that he’s proved himself. (Or they are using him more to carry the trailer since he has a fan base form 1k*). Starts April 9 on GMMTV in 1K*’s time slot, probably with a 10 ep run. 

2gether the movie is apparently coming April 22 to Thai theaters. F4 Thailand must be having issues or GMMTV just wants to milk the BrightWin cash cow. It’s rumored to be a combination of 2gehter + Still 2gether with some extra scenes and ending. Also, one assumes a lot will be cut out, if it’s movie length.

Call It What You Want released its updated trailer. If anything, it looks more scary than before. What are we in for? April 9th. 

Nitiman got a release date, May 7 on One31. 

I Told Sunset About You 2 got an updated release date of May 27 on LineTV. 

Second Chance the series is coming to LineTV on March 29. I don’t know much about this one. Tons of familiar faces (mostly TharnType side dishes) and some nice looking new talent but a dearth of eng subs. I think it may take on Brothers’ time slot. Line did eng subs for Brothers so maybe they will do 2nd Chance too? 

Close Friend the series is coming April 22. This is a combination of 6 couples with 6 story arcs as music videos (maybe)? It’s an epic fan service with familiar faces like OhmFluke (UWMA), MaxNat (LBC also in Y-Destiny), YoonLay (YYY also in Y-Destiny), KimCop (GenY), and JaFirst (TT2).

Y-Destiny starts March 30, and has starting dropping couple’s trailers. I’m still suspicious given the director but it seems like there is plot (or plots) and a theme. Looks to be a series of 7 single ep vignettes (amended, see comments, might be 2 eps each for 14 eps total), different couple each time, some with supernatural elements, all with decent chemistry and acting chops. 

Sun MaxNat’s tutor/student arc

Mon jaded rich kid meets poor innocent  

Tues sports romance enemies to lovers 

Weds the messy realistic actual dating one 

Thurs hot ghost boyfriend (sad) 

Fri YoonLayPerth coping with loss and finding new love (sad). This one will all rest on Lay's acting so we know it’s in safe hands. Our boy is going to KILL it. 

Sat time-slip memory loss reunion romance 

I’m thinking we can’t expect any of these to end happy or be classic BL. They’re gonna be more slice of life-ish. 

Gossip - BL Outside of Thailand 

Scholar Ryu’s Wedding Ceremony AKA Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding (Korean historical BL) got a legit teaser (eng sub here). @curriculumvtae​ reports that it’s releasing April 15th on WeTV (Philippines & Thailand) and Idol Romance (South Korea), while Will of Thai Bl says it’ll be on Viki too. It’s a short run of 8 ep built on a fake relationship trope (arranged marriage variant):

Ryu Ho Seon’s (Kang In Soo from You Wish) arranged marriage turns out to be with his expected bride’s brother, Choi Ki Wan (Lee Se Jin from Mr Heart). Ryu tries to undo the marriage, but his ill mother opposes this saying the scandal would be too much. Meanwhile, Kim Tae Hyeong (Jang Eui Soo from Where Your Eyes Linger), a senior at Ryu’s school, comes to congratulate him and falls in love with Choi. Then one day, the original bride disappears.

Okay it seems a bit twisty turny for ONLY 8 EPS, but oh my goodness how excited are we? Our first intentional historical BL out of Korea!

We already knew Hong Kong was doing a remake of Japan’s Ossan’s Love under the same name (not my favorite Japanese BL but so very popular) but it’s now reported to be coming to Viu in June. Who knows how the CFA will take it. Depends on whether Hong Kong bows before the NO GAY KISSES regs or if they are going to use this as a political nose thumb... things could get cray with this puppy (the original has several kisses and s shower scene). Are we back in Addicted territory only with added comedy and civil unrest?

Speaking of Japan, Absolute BL (AKA Zettai BL ni Naru Sekai vs Zettai BL ni Naritakunai Otoko) dropped sooner than anyone thought, March 27. But being Japanese who knows how/when/if we get subs. Protag finds himself trapped in a world of BL, but being straight he fights against any hot guy that draws near, but the whole world (literally) is conspiring against him. It’s a parody adapted from a yoai.

What with Absolute BL from Japan plus Lovely Writer and Call it What You Want from Thailand, is 2021 the year of BL being ultra self referential? Sure feels like it.

In Case You Missed It

Faded a gay micro film from Taiwan from 2017 deals with parental acceptance and serves up a ton of BL tropes (piggyback, forehead kiss, etc). I’m pretty sure this was a propaganda piece for legalization of gay marriage, and it’s an interesting nugget of BL history as a result. Yes, it ends happy. It’s cute. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed a day later than actual air date for accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

Man there’s a lot going on right now! Spring has sprung... I suppose. 

P.S. I cannot believe I missed Absolute BL as a blog name. Numbnuts = me. 

[90spumkin]

Masterpiece

Summary: Who knew art could lead to an awkward meeting that would later lead to beautiful relationship.

A/N: I know I said I would post this Friday, but oh well here we are. All inserted pictures are from Pinterest. I absolutely loved writing this so please send me your feedback.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Artist! Reader

Warnings: swearing, implied/slightly descriptive smut, mention of alcohol and addiction 

Word Count: 2.8K

Spencer doesn’t know how long he had been zoned out not listening to a word Emily said to him. They were standing in an obnoxiously long line at their favorite coffee shop. Spencer was admiring the art in front of him, the way the yellows and oranges flowed together was mesmerizing. They were so mesmerizing that Spencer didn’t realize the art was on the back pocket of the stranger’s shorts standing in line in front of them.

It wasn’t until Emily nudge Spencer’s shoulder, “Quit looking at that girl’s ass!” Spencer saw where Emily was pointing as she spoke. As he went to say, “I was not checking out her ass.”, the stranger with the mesmerizing art on her ass turned around to see the raven haired woman pointing down at the lower part of her body and the tall curly haired man blushing as he was caught in the act.

The woman smirked at them both and said, “Well my shorts do say ‘this butt is art’ so I guess technically you were just taking in all its beauty.” This made Emily snort and Spencer stutter. He tried to stutter out an apology, but by the time his brain allowed him to access words again Emily’s phone rang loudly.

She answered quickly and hung up just as fast, “I have to go to a meeting apparently. Sometimes I hate being the boss. I’ll catch up with you later, Spencer.” And with that she was gone, leaving Spencer there with the still smirking woman.

“You know the least you could do is buy my coffee to make up for this adorable fiasco.” She said causing Spencer to blush. He nodded his head and said, “Yes of course. I’m really sorry about all that. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid by the way.”

She smiled at him as he went to stand beside her in line, “Oh doctor, fascinating. I’m y/n.”

Once they had finally gotten their coffee and found a small table, conversation between the two flowed so effortlessly. “So, doctor, huh? Care to share with the class what kind?” Y/n asked as she took a sip of her dark beverage.

Spencer chuckled, “I have PhD’s in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering along with BA’s in psychology, sociology, and philosophy. I’m not a doctor who works in a hospital, but one who works in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.” Y/n smiled at him over her cup, “That kind of makes sense you look like a very intelligent man. Plus, you look way better in a cardigan than you probably would in scrubs.”

Their conversation went on without a hitch, no moments of awkward silence. They talked about their careers, y/n explained how she was an artist and Spencer adored the way she lit up as she talked. They constantly were bouncing ideas and questions off one another. The conversations stretched over many different topics, each just as interesting as the last. Y/n even listened and question Spencer on several of his fact dumps.

They both seemed to have forgotten the outside world existed until Spencer happened to notice the sun setting through the coffee shop windows. As he admired the colors in the sky he said, “The sky is always so lovely at sunset, but I hate that it could mean the end of this.”

He looked back at y/n who was smiling at him. “Okay I don’t usually invite strange men to my home, but would you like to come see some of my art that I’ve been working on?” Spencer smirked and narrowed his eyes, “You think I’m strange?” Y/n laughed, “Only in the best way.”

The first thing Spencer did when he entered y/n incredibly spacious apartment was admire all the art lining the walls. He had thought the art displayed on her jean shorts was mesmerizing, but the art that was in front of him now was simply breathtaking.

Spencer walked the walls, admiring and analyzing each piece. Y/n stood beside him as he smiled at the painting of a cow. She laughed softly as she spoke, “There is always a story behind each of my paintings. Some are silly, some are painful. However, this one happens to be my favorite. I grew up on a farm and I had a cow named Milky” She looked at Spencer who was trying to hide a laugh, “Hey I was 8! Anyways she was my best friend. It was funny when I first started to draw and paint, I would always use her as a model. Sometimes it seemed as if she was posing for me.”

Spencer didn’t take his eyes off y/n the whole time she was talking. Once y/n finished her story she looked at Spencer. Both of their smiles growing bigger. He looked back at the painting and said, “You know in another life I would love to be a cowboy with cows and other animals on a small ranch somewhere.”

Y/n giggled, “Would you name one of your cows Milky?” Spencer looked at her fondly and said, “For you, I would.”

Spencer turned his head to the right and noticed a canvas with several different shades of red bleeding into one another, there was broken glass scattered across it. He made his way closer, he turned towards y/n and asked, “What’s the story behind this one?”

Y/n’s eyes held a hint of sadness as she drew in a deep breath. She was hesitant at first but finally explained, “The glass is broken beer bottles, I was- am an alcoholic. I am currently 5 years sober, almost 6 now. I made this to remind myself of all the hate and pain drinking brought to my life” Y/n turned towards Spencer expecting him not to understand, but instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sobriety chip.

Y/n’s eyes started to tear up at the fact that someone finally wasn’t judging her but understanding her. She too pulled out a chip and both y/n and Spencer let out laughs full of pain but also full happiness. Spencer reached out a hand and placed it on y/n’s cheek. His thumb ran smoothly across her face to wipe a tear that had escaped.

When Spencer spoke again his words were soft, “Out of all this art, I think you are the one true masterpiece.”

One minute they were staring into one another’s eyes, and the next they were getting lost in the feel of the other’s lips neither one really sure when they had made it to y/n’s bedroom. Spencer held y/n against him firmly, but it felt delicate all at once. His fingers traced over every edge and curve of her body bringing sounds of pleasure from her beautiful lips.

Spencer planted soft kisses across y/n’s body as if he were painting and her body was his canvas. With every roll of Spencer’s hips, flashes of color seemed to blind him. When y/n arched her back, Spencer let her know she was more beautiful than any art piece.

The next morning, Spencer woke up to the sun shining through the windows. He felt y/n stir next to him, he couldn’t help but take in how lovely she looked. The sun seemed to only amplify her beauty.

Y/n opened her eyes to find Spencer staring at her. She smirked and closed her eyes again, curling up closer to him, “You’re staring.” Spencer chuckled causing vibrations to run through his chest making y/n giggle. “I’m admiring.” Spencer told her.

Y/n sat up to stretch, the sheets falling around her making her look like a sculpture of a goddess. She smiled down at him and scrunched up her nose “Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever you say.”

While they started to dress, well y/n was getting dressed Spencer was still looking for his shirt, he noticed the shorts y/n was putting on had art on them just like the ones before. However, these were not shades of yellow and orange. These shorts had little planets painted on them.

Y/n turned around to see Spencer’s eyes once again focused on her ass, “Why are you smiling like that?” At her question Spencer let out the laugh he was holding in as he said, “Ummm- well- it’s just that- your ass is out of this world.”

Y/n snorted and threw a pillow towards Spencer who actually caught it, “Oh the doctors got jokes this morning.”

Spencer spotted his shirt in the floor and as he bent over to get it, he said, “Not jokes, facts.” This only made y/n smile more.

Y/n watched the muscles in Spencer’s back flex as he fixed his shirt to put it on. Right before he put it over his head she asked, “Can I- can I paint something on your back?”

Spencer stopped all movements to look at y/n, he noticed the blush tinting her cheeks. His heart seemed to scream with emotions. Spencer through his shirt back on the ground and asked, “Where do you want me?” Y/n giggled and pointed to the bed.

Y/n had been straddling Spencer’s back for about 15-to-20-minute minutes when he no longer felt the softness of the paintbrush against his skin. Y/n had been humming while she worked and with the gentleness of each stroke of the brush, Spencer kept dozing off.

Y/n removed herself from Spencer causing him to turn his head to look up at her, she was smiling so brightly Spencer never wanted to look away. Y/n was staring down at the work on Spencer’s back and jumped slightly when he asked, “Can I see it?”

“Oh yes! Of course!”, she rushed to put down her paints and brushes. Y/n grabbed Spencer’s hand and pulled him towards the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door. Before handing him the handheld mirror she said, “Close your eyes. I’m going to count to 3.” Spencer just chuckled and nodded.

“1…”

“…2…”

“…3”

Spencer opened his eyes and let out a gasp. The art that now covered his back was simple but so pretty. There were no defined lines, the colors overlapped in some places which just made it all the more beautiful. He looked from the mirror to y/n to see her hands clasped together and held against her mouth. She moved her hands slightly to ask, “So, what do you think?” Spencer looked back at the mirror and said, “I never want to take it off.”

After the time Spencer spent with y/n he was scared he would never see or talk to her again. Right after she revealed the painting she had done on his back, Emily called him with a new case. He ran out of there so fast he didn’t have time to remove the paint or give y/n his number. The plane ride was slightly uncomfortable with his clothes sticking to the paint.

However, it turned out the universe was on his side. They were leaving one case going straight to another, so Spencer’s spirits were kind of in shambles and his mind was consumed with thoughts of y/n. His sadness was starting to take over his mood when his rarely used cell phoned chimed, signaling that he just received a text.

Hi, doc. It’s your favorite artist. I hope it isn’t weird I’m texting you. I got a call from someone named Penelope. She said Emily thought you would like to hear from me.

Spencer looked over towards Emily who was smirking as she read over the case file, she knew who was texting him. Spencer just shook his head as he typed out his response, smiling the whole time.

Hello, y/n. That would be my best friends medaling in my life. Luckily, this time they were right.

Y/n response came back fast, and Spencer chuckled softly imagining the teasing look she was probably making as she asked-

This time?

That is a story for another time.

Over the course of the several weeks Spencer was gone, Y/n and Spencer texted every chance they got. A lot of the times Spencer would be too busy and would see messages from y/n he had gotten through the day.

--

I was running late this morning due to me having terrible time management skills and well- I went to brunch with paint completely covering my clothes.

--

Ha look what I did. I’m starting to think I’m the real genius here. click here for image

--

SPENCER REID. DID YOU REALLY HAVE PENELOPE GO BUY ME THIS AND BRING IT TO ME?!?! I love it! Thank you! click here for image

--

Spencer would always laugh and respond every time he got the chance. One night he was actually able to call her.

“Hello?”

“Are not sure how to answer a phone or are you questioning if I’m really calling you?” Spencer teased.

“Well, isn’t someone feeling sassy today.” Y/n laughed; she was overwhelmingly happy to hear his voice.

They spent most of the night just catching up. Y/n never once asked about the case and for that Spencer was thankful. Spencer saw the sun start to rise and realized what time it was.

“I should probably try and get at least a few hours of sleep.” Spencer said into the phone. He heard her gasp and then frantically started apologizing, “Oh my goodness! I am so sorry! I was just so happy to talk to you I didn’t realize. I-“

Spencer cut her off with a “Hey. It perfectly okay. I love talking to you. If it were possible, I would never sleep if it meant I could talk to you forever.”

Y/n couldn’t stop smiling, “Well guess what doc. You’re kind of stuck with me get ready for me to never stop talking.” Spencer laughed softly, “I am definitely okay with that.”

As soon as the jet landed, Spencer texted y/n to let her know they were back. What he didn’t expect was for her to be standing in the bullpen with Penelope. Spencer couldn’t help but practically sprint to her, ignoring the knowing looks from his teammates.

When reached her, he wrapped her in a hug. Y/n giggled as she hugged him back. When they pulled apart Spencer asked, “What are you doing here?” Y/n shrugged and looked towards Penelope who had left her side to join the others and said, “Reasons.” She looked back at Spencer and winked. Spencer laughed and shook his head as he wrapped her in another hug.

Spencer and y/n left with Spencer promising to finish the paperwork first thing the following week. Once they were outside y/n turned to Spencer and said, “Okay so the main reason I couldn’t wait any longer to see you is I want to ask you something?”

Spencer turned his head and squinted his eyes, “Should I be scared?” Y/n barked out a laugh and grabbed Spencer’s hand. He stared where their hands were joined. Y/n must have thought he didn’t want to hold her hand because she noticed him staring and let go.

Y/n became a little nervous as she asked, “I- I wanted to ask you to be my plus one at an art show tomorrow. This will be the second art show my work has been in and I’m extremely nervous and would love for you to be there.”

Spencer smiled, feeling beyond flattered that she would want him there. He grabbed her hand the same way she had before and said, “I would love nothing more.”

That following night at the art show Spencer knew for certain he was completely consumed with feelings for y/n. He couldn’t help but to admire how her face lit up every time she talked about her work with other guests. It fills him with pride every time she would turn away the champagne that is offered. What really sets his heart ablaze is how y/n would reach for his hand every time she moved on to another art piece or to speak to someone else. It was as if y/n wanted, needed him. Whether it was for comfort or confidence Spencer was happy to be either of those things for her.

Towards the end of the night Spencer and y/n had finally found a moment to be alone. They stood in front of a painting that kind of reminded Spencer of the mermaid from that one Disney movie Penelope made him watch.

Y/n must have thought so also because as she looked at the painting she said, “You know I am really glad you have become a part of my world.” Y/n turned her head to look at Spencer there was a gleam in her eye. Spencer responded by saying, “Is there any way I can always be a part of your world?”

Y/n responded by kissing Spencer, putting ever amount of emotion she felt into it. The kiss was more vibrant and meaningful than any art she could ever dream of creating.

*

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[arduadastra]

Pedro boys and roadtrips

My masterlist 💛

A/N I wrote this in the backseat of a car so apologies for spelling errors! Also all these boys are drivers, none of them would put up being passengers - they're not patient enough for that 😂

Warnings: Road trip fluff AND smut (I cater for everyone here) so some NSFW 18+

Javier, Din, Frankie, Whiskey, Ezra, Max P and Oberyn below the cut 🔥

Frankie 🐟

This man loves long drives. He's the type of guy that just relaxes behind the wheel, especially in his own truck - its like a second home to him. He doesn't have to think when he drives, its a time he feels truly at peace. Then you tell him you'd enjoy coming along? It's a little slice of heaven for Frankie, one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh is his new nirvana. You both love it especially when the sunset casts a warm orange glow across the dashboard and Frankie loves the look in your eye when that golden hour hits your face.

Sometimes he gets too caught up in it though, nearly veering off the road more than once which earns him a stern chastising from you but he gives you his trademark smile and you forgive him immediately. If you're particularly mad he ends up pulling into a side road to make it up to you, wandering hands warm from the steering wheel sliding up your legs and smug lips against your core has you begging for him in no time.

Yeah, Frankie loves road trips.

Din ✨

Well Din doesn't have a car but he sure as hell is used to long haul flights. It wasn't something he enjoyed or disliked before he met you, it was simply something he did, a way from point A to point B and then the kid came and then you did and now...its slightly more eventful.

For one he turns into an unwilling tour guide, answering all your questions about which planets are nearby, which sector they were in or even mundane questions about how the crest works. With anyone else he would be annoyed by the tirade but the genuine curiosity and excitment on your face when you ask him makes it hard to say no.

Occasionally you'd sense he needs the quiet and just sit with him, a silent companion and while Din would never admit it - those times of just being with you, surrounded by hyperspace, are some of his favourite.

Oberyn 🐍

Again a car? What's that? Long horse rides though? Oberyn LOVES them. Well it depends on the reason, if its to fight some war or wager a negotiation in some far off place Oberyn is miserable the whole time but when its on his terms? He loves it. Much like Din he would also turn into a tour guide but a much more willing one with you pressed up behind him. He'd point out historic landmarks, certain battle locations or animals and you'd squeeze him tight each time in appreciation, leaving soft kisses on your prince's golden skin.

While oberyn loves riding, sometimes you both retire to the carriage but its rarely restful.

Oberyn is insatiable on long journeys and would gladly keep you on his cock the entire time if you'd let him. You often worry others would hear you but it spurs the viper on, testing your restraint as he spends hours between your legs, giving you endless pleasure that has you whining into the wooden room. Getting fucked is even better, the slow roll of the wheels knocks Oberyn deeper inside you and while Oberyn has seen many sights within the seven kingdoms, his favourite will always be you in the throws of pleasure at his hands.

Whiskey 🌪

Similar to Frankie, this cowboy loves driving but refuses to do long hauls in anything other than his beloved bronco and you in the passenger seat. This man is a snacker too, you'd have to stop every few hours for more because this man can eat. He may not look it but this hardened statesman is a massive softie for you and when you start to tire of watching the world roll by, you come up with games to play. Who can spot the most cows? How many red cars are there versus blue ones? Whiskey is one competitive guy though so be prepared for his silent brooding when he loses.

You know a sure fire way to cheer him up though, another game you called 'How long can Jack drive with your hand down his pants?' Again, his competitive nature makes it hard to win but you know all his tricks. You know when to speed up, slow down, when he moans you know to twist your wrist slightly and you love the wild look he gives you when you play with the roof down. Watching him try and act natural in downtown traffic, five seconds from cumming in his own pants is worth every second of his punishments later that evening.

Ezra 🌿

I'm not entirely sure Ezra likes long journeys, mostly because he feels so claustrophobic in his pod. Spending so much time on the Green leaves him anxious when he gets stuck anywhere too long so for a while he actually avoids the longer haul prospecting missions. He misses out on the money but he just can't be alone that long again - but then you join him. You're the opposite, you love long journeys. It gives you time to catch up on things, read your neverending stack of books and keep up with your journalling.

Soon enough you realise Ezra's hesitance and you ask him to join you, a new pod with new company and he hesitantly accepts. You start small, just day long journeys spent together, mostly talking (and we know Ezra loves a chat) and getting to know each other which leads to you showing Ezra his book collection and he's in love.

You start a pattern and without even realising it, Ezra is doing week long hauls without even realising it. Whenever he does start to panic you're right there with a reassuring smile and a new book to get lost in and Ezra thinks to himself, long hauling may not be so bad after all.

Javier 🥃

Okay this guy HATES long drives. Long drives remind him too much of being stuck on stakeouts and the cloying heat and bustling nature of Columbia don't offer the greatest roadtrip conditions. Javi would rather pay the extra money to fly than drive anywhere further than an hour away - it makes him grumpy and a little like Ezra, he feels trapped in the cab of his car.

Then you arrive, like a whirlwind of optimism and excitement in the embassy and he gets whiplash. You, unlike him, hate flying, so much so it becomes a genuine phobia and the lack of license means you need a chauffeur when you have to go from Cali to Medellin.

Javier is not happy when he's assigned. That's nearly 9 hours of solid driving next to someone who is literally his polar opposite and he can't think of anything worse. He says nothing for the first hour until you start pulling out the map from his glovebox and start giving directions like he doesn't know where the fuck he's going. He argues at that, which then causes you to bite back and he's silently surprised at your tenacity (and a little turned on). Eventually he gives up and starts smoking instead which then sets you off into a rant about the dangers of lung cancer and 'how dumb can you be Javi' which makes him swerve off and stop the car in mutual anger.

You stare each other down a while before the tension snaps and you collide, lips crashing in the most intense kiss either of you have ever had and once you pull apart you can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

The rest of the ride is far more enjoyable (as is the shared motel room at the halfway point which you both have to leave early from because of 'noise complaints')

Max P 💵

This guy can't take long drives, its never dark long enough and he secretly hates it. Back when he was human max loved driving, in college (before he got turned) he would often just leave and go, no destination in mind just the asphalt under his wheels and the breeze in his hair - now? He's stuck to maybe four hour rides before he has to turn back and it just feels pointless. He tells you so when you first start dating and you feel bad. You love long drives, either at the wheel or next to it there's just something about it that makes you feel lighter. You want max to have that too.

So you do some research online, work out the best time to conduct your plan and book the flights within the week. You don't tell Max, just tell him to take two weeks off and trust you and he does. When your plane lands in the capital of the Faroe Islands, Max is beyond confused until he sees the tourist guides, 'only 37 days of sunlight a year!' and he turns to you. You shrug and smile, saying this time of year there shouldnt be any for at least the month And the islands are a great place for scenic roadtrips. The hopeful look on your face and your clear sincerity of your research has him hugging you tight and twirling you around right there in the airport with the biggest grin on his face, if he could cry he would.

Those two weeks are by far his favourite memory, being able to drive again without worry gave him his freedom back and he swore to himself right there and then that he was never letting you go.