#if they keep fucking me like this i might just fie

[hlxtn]

Atsumu posting a pic with him and Bo at the gym

Sweaty

Tight clothed

Bo and atsu

What

A tear rolled down my thigh

[badsalmonella]

HEY HEY HEY *SLAPS YOUR FACE* WAKE UP!!! I JUST MADE THE MOST INSANE STRING OF DISCOVERIES

-Setting the scene: I can't sleep. I'm rolling around in bed. I'm thinking about Camelot. The musical. As one does. Guys we ALL do this c'mon.

-Man the love triangle dynamics changing from version to version is interestinggg.

-Man the way the show sometimes has some interesting things to say about sexuality but also sometimes wants Nothing to do with sexuality while also having it written in the text is interestinggggg.... I wonder if anyone way smarter than me has ever written a deep dive essay about THAT.

-I'M NOT GETTING ANY SLEEP TONIGHT! TO GOOGLE!

-there actually is something written up about the movie but I think the full thing is behind a paywall siiiigh

-Oh what's this? A very interestingly titled BroadwayWorld forum title about scandalous nudity??? In Camelot????

- Strap in. Go pee before I start the car. This is INSANE.

-So what I stumble upon is a theater company in Massachusetts DEEPLY embroiled in the drama of advising people that their Camelot is GONNA HAVE NUDITY. Drama from 2005 (?) trapped in the amber that is the wonderful world of the internet

- The theater goers of Massachusetts are GOOPED.

- Some of them are also stupid lots of "well if you're adding nudity maybe I'LL ACTUALLY STAY AWAKE TO WATCH CAMELOT😂😂😂😂"

-also "Listen. There has never been sex EVER in Camelot" which ????????

- Like everyone is going in like "WHERE COULD YOU POSSSSSIBLIY PUT NUDITY???" bestie...you can't come up with one educated guess where they might slide that in? "NIMUE??? WILL NIMUE BE TITS OUT?????" "Will Morgan Le Fay be NAKED??? because she lives alONE IN THE FOREST???" y'all.

- Like so so sooo many entries in before someone eNTERTAINS the thought that it could be for a Lance Genny hook up.

-I don't know if this person was referencing another production or THIS MASSACHUSETTS PRODUCTION? They made it unclear. But they mention a staging of Fie on Goodness....where Mordred riles up the knights so much....they take off their shirts????? H eLLO????? ❓❓❓

-A NEW THREAD IS ADDED TO BROADWAYWORLD FORUMS

- A NEW CHALLENGER ENTERS THE RING

-Bro. A full blown RANT from the THEATER COMPANY THEMSELVES

-SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE.

-What is Talking Broadway and why are you BANNED bestie??? WHAT IS THE TEA WITH THE ADMIN???

- ALSO AND THIS IS THE BIG ONE WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE NUDITY IS IMPLEMENTED VIA A TOPLESS BALLET DANCING UNICORN?????

-WHERE??? WHEN??? HELLO????

-CAMELOT YOU ARE ALREADY AT 3 HOURS NOW WHEN DO YOU HAVE TIME FOR A TITS OUT BALLET????

- it's 4 am. I flex my googling fingers. I'm getting to the bottom of this. I am NOTHING if not MENTALLY ILL ABOUT CAMELOT THE BROADWAY MUSICAL BY LERNER AND LOWE. And by GOD I will document it with GREAT DETAIL for you ALL!

- First of all no I did not find any evidence of what THIS SPECIFIC 2005 BALLET LOOKED LIKE

- But I did figure out where there was a ballet!

- Listen so there are two old men in the forums arguing about how on the OG OG OLD OLD OLD SCHOOL RECORDS FOR CAMELOT??? I guess you can catch some of the cut songs/versions of songs?

-One man insists a number known as "The Persuasion" or "Enchanted Forest Ballet" is on this record

-Other man flexes that he just got OUT his old album and it is not there.

-but either way I have my lead.

-So for those of you not SO DEEP IN THE CAMELOT SAUCE YOU CAN NO LONGER SEE THE SUN This is referring to an OLLDDDD version of the show where Mordred wants to fuck with King Arthur and keep him out of the castle so Lancelot and Genny can get caught treason hugging so what he does is he goes to the forest, finds Morgan Le Fay, convinces her to create a magic forcefield around Arthur while he's out and about so he can't move and he DOES THIS by bribing her with chocolate which works because you see Morgan Le Fay in this version lives in a home made of food BUT NO SWEETS so she can be bribed with chocol----

-yEah so that got written out of the show fast. And for good reason. But here it is if you are curious. I think this is where the unicorn boobies would be featured (yes. Remember this is about nude Camelot in Massachusetts DO NOT LOSE SIGHT OF THE PLOT HERE PEOPLE) also detail for those of you who have seen the bootleg too many times the revival repurposes this tune in the score for Morgan's entrance. NEAT!

-Okay also??? Random detail? Merlin was played by a child because Merlin ages backwards and at the end of the show that child plays Tom of Warwick. Neat

-Have you made it this far??? Are you still here???? I GOT ONE MORE THRILLING TURN FOR YOU ALL GUESS WHO WAS IN THE ENSEMBLE FOR THIS PRODUCTION OF GRITTY NUDITY CAMELOT IN MASSACHUSETTS

-JOSH CHAN!!! FROM CRAZY EX GIRLFRIEND!!!!

-Okay now you have made it to the end. I'm gonna need S O much coffee for work today.

🧍🏻‍♀️

[witchofcustom]

Yandere!Machias Regnitz Headcanons

Heyyyy it's been quite a while since I've posted anything. I don't really have any particular reason besides the fact that I've been rather busy as of late.

I realize this is probably not what my current followers want from me, but it's time I go back to my roots and write yandere stuff.

I may or may not be willing to take requests for Kiseki x Reader stuff, since I'm currently hyperfixated on the series and there is a SEVERE lack of any sort of x reader fanfiction or headcanons.

If you enjoy my work please consider buying me a Ko-Fi.

CW: Yandere, incel behavior, panty theft, degradation, non-con, forced marriage

A/N: (Y/N) is a member of Class VII and from a noble family, also these are less headcanons and more a story written in the form of headcanons because prose are my weakness.

-Machias can’t help but feel enraged! He’s been falling behind in his classes and struggling to focus on his studies. He’s never felt this way before. All he can think about is you. 

-He has to pull himself together! After all, he can’t lose to Emma and Jusis just because of some noble girl he shares a class with.

-This only makes him feel more angry. He can’t get you off of his mind no matter how hard he tries. 

-He wants to put a stop to this, so on one of Thors’ free days when Rean brings you along with him to explore the old schoolhouse, Machias stays behind, saying that he simply isn’t feeling the best. He won’t deny that there’s a part of him that feels quite mad at Rean for being with you, but he can put that aside for now.

-Making sure that nobody is in the Class VII dorm, Machias enters your room. “Stupid (Y/N).” he thought to himself. Nobles like you have no idea what kind of danger is out there. 

-He is quickly drawn to a pair of panties you left on the ground. Muttering to himself about how naive you are, he picks the panties up, a tent growing in his pants. He takes the panties back to his room. 

-Machias then begins to pleasure himself using your panties, enjoying the softness against his length. He can feel where you’ve mastrubated before while wearing them. He dirty talks to himself while doing so. “You’re such a dirty whore. It’s like you’re asking for this.” 

-He very quickly reaches climax. It’s a bit embarrassing, but he couldn’t help himself. Machias can only imagine just how good it’ll feel once he is finally able to fuck you. 

-He keeps your panties for himself, using them almost every night to jerk off. 

-Eventually Machias will confess his feelings to you. If you accept, great! He might be a bit clingy and occasionally make comments about your body, but otherwise he’s just a bit shy. 

-If you reject then…

-Machias won’t take no for an answer. He’ll threaten you to start sucking him off, putting his shotgun to your head. As you obey, he begins to feel overwhelming amounts of pleasure. He never knew just how good having this sort of power over someone could feel. Could this be how nobles feel?

-The mere thought of such a thing makes Machias push you down onto the bed, rip your panties off, and start thrusting in your tight little pussy. This is where noble girls like you belong, taking the cock of a commoner like him, the type of person who does all the work, while you just sit around all day. 

-As he cums inside of you, Machias continues to say degrading things to you. However, he assures you that this will not be the last time he does so. 

“So, do you promise to be my girlfriend?”

-You nod, too afraid of what he might do to you. 

-While you and Machias try to keep it a secret, on the final night of the school festival, he asks to dance with you. You are forced to accept. After the dance finishes, he asks you to marry him. Of course, you are forced to accept as well. 

-News soon spreads around Thors of your engagement. Your classmates are especially aware of this. Millium and Fie tease you while Alisa and Elliot congratulate you. Even Jusis is happy for Machias, thinking that he’s finally gotten over his hatred of nobles. The entire time, you’re forced to act as if you are happy. 

-Of course there will likely be some backlash from the nobles, including your own family, but Machias will do all he can to make sure that they are silent, using his father’s position to his advantage. 

-Once the two of you graduate and begin to live on your own, Machias will demand that you are a stay at home housewife. He wants nothing more than to be able to come home from a stressful day of work to be able to eat your cooking and stuff his cock in your pussy. Of course he wants you to one day have his child, but he’s not in any particular rush. 

-While not the worst yandere, as he still does genuinely love you, Machias can be rather rough. It’s best to behave and not piss him off. S just be a good little wife for him and things will be alright. <3

[in-omni-scientia]

Every time you and Authority speak with each other there's an Energy... Chemistry, on might say. Ever considered just asking the guy out? (Empathy would probably be cool about it)

ENCYCLOPEDIA — 'Cool about it'? Well, they *have* said before they would support us no matter what we did, but I'd like to draw attention to the fact they've previously shown distress at the prospect of losing us to someone else. AUTHORITY — Sure, whatever, but are we just going to ignore the fact Suggestion exists too? That'd be fucked up to do that to him. COMPOSURE — You guys are boring. I could totally whip up something, anon, just give me some time to gather some inspo. VOLITION — I think maybe we should be taking into account the fact I just *don't* feel that way first and foremost?? No confessions are going to be happening. Not sorry. AUTHORITY — No, the *biggest* fucking issue is that you take fifty goddamn morale damage every time he even LOOKS at you. That's not fucking good to build a relationship on. Manage *that* first before you even consider a FRIENDSHIP, fuckwit. By the way, have you ever considered that in your shit-ass relationship with Empathy, you don't-- VOLITION — No. PERCEPTION — Okay. But, what if-- VOLITION — Nope. ENCYCLOPEDIA — That would be an interesting theoretical to ponder, though. If Au-- VOLITION — My verdict is final, dammit. ENCYCLOPEDIA — Okay.

COMPOSURE [Legendary: Failure] — O, Authority! How, the nonpareil! In time we hate that which we often fear – and fear the flutter of our pages when ye wert near, sir-reverence, we didst… Fie upon’t, foh! Our maltreatments leave a foul taste in our mouth.

VOLITION — What are you doing. AUTHORITY — Oh, for fuck's sake.

COMPOSURE — O me, I cry your worships mercy! Beseech you, sovereign, give’s pardon. What our contempts doth often hurl from us, we wish it ours again… the prevailing prejudices, by revolution lowering, does become the opposite of itself. Byrlady…

VOLITION — ...Hey, wait. Didn't we hear someone-- ENCYCLOPEDIA — What does 'byrlady' mean, Composure?

COMPOSURE — I knoweth not!!!! ⠀⠀Y’wrest’d us from the clammy grips of death with absolute celerity, my lord, and with this hast wrest from us our grip on our wanton feelings. Alack, we do regret our decadence, ‘tis dishonourable to hurt th’heart of sweet Empathy--

VOLITION — Keep Empathy's name out of your fucking mouth. ENCYCLOPEDIA — Also, would you do us the service of not referring to us as a collective, in this instance? I am not regretting any decadence right now for I have not participated in it.

COMPOSURE — --but mine aching heart balance the feather of austerity. ⠀⠀E’en so! The possibility we are doom’d to belove more than beloved oft agnize I, the arm of your companion’s body ye art. But my lungs ‘chill not contain this blaze no longer… thou art the greatest soldier of the world, the heart where mine thoughts did kindle. Made from fire and air, you and I, the other elements left to baser life, and your continued breath alone fans my flame. ⠀⠀Prithee, allow me to be the armourer of your steely heart. I ask no more. In fine, for the love of Love and her soft hours, let’s not confound the time with conference harsh. ⠀⠀Come, sir, come, I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love...

PERCEPTION — Where did that spotlight come from? No, wait, where did those paper roses come from...? COMPOSURE — Thank you, thank you! Oh, you've been such a beautiful audience! PERCEPTION — Wait, Poseur dON'T-- ⠀⠀Oof... COMPOSURE — fffffffffff AUTHORITY — Just because I share a name doesn't mean I'm gonna catch you when you swoon, dickhead! COMPOSURE — You're a *shit* acting partner! AUTHORITY — You're a *shit* skill!

VOLITION — ...Uh. So. What's with the EModS? COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] — Ooh, want an encore with even older Suresne, do we? Of course I will give that to you. Khm, khm... ⠀⠀Lufast ðū mē? Ðū mē scýedest mid frēondsċipe hæfdest, ic eomge-feall-en-- ENCYCLOPEDIA — Quit that. I can accept plagiarising from creative works, but academic texts are where I draw the line. COMPOSURE — Uh. Isn't plagiarising from academic texts all you do, though...?

[grahmcrackerboi]

I wanna put on layers because now days I get cold and it sucks I need two covers to sleep and keep myself warm. I'm not cold if it's so hot to where the crayons melt on the pavement other than that I am cold my hands mainly my fingers get cold and my ears and I have a beanie in my backpack but I feel like ifi wear it ill look weird im trypong off of the my key oard where theres no capaltization or auto correct so im just typing like this snd i dont care thag much i think i have a sore throat because I threw up yesterday not on purpose i literally just woke up from my nap and threw up when i woke ip maybe i ste too many cuties but ig it sas worth it but my throat is so re now

i think i can speak about my lfie on tumblr like its no one's business it feels nice i guess because even if. i dont get engagement on here i at elast have a personal outlet with a form of anonymity.

i dont think i have to make sende on here because i ca just speak even when im not physically speaking i have an outlet i feel that this is possibly a more positive oitlet compared to my ntoes which have bad thigns.

i linda wish i could be luci at times i sure hes a sweet person lol i dont lnow

is it lies or are they actually happy? because im sure it's possible to physc yourself into thinking your fine and happy with the self distruction but in the oong run it, likey

i feel so odd like ts posting thigns om twitter like hes the smartest person on the internet or even like some weird reddit incel i dont know i wish he wasnt a bad person because i wont lie i feel pike if he wasnt bad i would actually engangenin his content i guess or lsiten to his music which i do but i listen to it on soundcloud

sometimes i feel like i dont wanna bw here because i didnt take my anti depressants but than i remember thag i have to live,i have a life i need to live even if i dont like ir but also because i dont want to fie or unalive myself and have jim thinking "oh he did it because of me" like no your not thag important bro anywho im been listening to mm they're music kinda helps likw when i started listening to ms sheets music as a coping mechanism i need to find the picture i thinl i have it in my camra roll owir weweweew i dont have the picture ^_^ hapoy i gues

he got me a xbox but i showld have asked 4 a 3DS XL i miss playing on a ds i miss my dsi meanwhile in dyf hes talkinf about wanting to f*ck his iphonei thought the wbll rang for a second

i dont like feeling anxious to where my chest feels where empty alsmot? does tumblr have a certain amount to how much you can type? iw onder of whell hope not.i might edit this text iiiddkk

i winder if i was unmasking i dont know yesterday ahe said why do you have an attitude it was because i didnt take my medication not because of the miney that stupid it didnt feel real life mever feels real anyways so it doesnt matter? i felt like almost not being here but mo because i font know what awaits me in death.

fucking hipster fa- i should reallychange my usernamw i think i need to type faster hahah than i can type not normal i font care tbh i can be myaelf here without judgement unlike life i hate life because people judge people too much like you dont know me yet you mock me because of my voice or the way i look

i guess i sometimes feel bad because im werid or different but that's because i guess ir isnt recived by the public as socially acceptable but i gues its okay because wveryone is different right?

im cold and im twichtuimg/moving

i guess i got moved in my marh class idk shy magbe its like my english class wbere theres different places/groups for certain levels?

i dont know but um i think ill skip english/6th period for my own sake of my mental health?

i domt wanna be bullied or mocked because of me just living its like please let me be i canf stand up to them because itll make things worse but its okay i guess ewie random uncomfy feeling in my body ack itll be otay it eventually goes away j down know whag 2 do

i wont lie i kinda like beinf different from towth people sometimes but i also dont sometimes but its okay because i have people that im friends woth people thag are kinda like me so that makes me happy gouss ooo new way to spell guess hehe

this is scary bro this man still creps me out sorry mike

i feel like i have to stop myself sometimes from being 2 weird because o dont wanna weird out the people that are my friends

okay okay im dine inmeed to put my things im order first ts second mm third ma?

lol hw was high in it

funny enough mars popped up and i was looking om mm ahh my stomach feels weird bruh djsjfnsj

how i feel

did i write too much?

hope mot

[levyfiles]

Last week the @skepticbeliever-bookclub prompted us to post a selection of our favourite shyan fics so there’d be a nice little way to highlight all the hidden gems of favourites we might already recognise and love while sharing a few we might never have found otherwise. Last December I posted a little list of some of my favourites so I figured I’d dust off that list with a few new additions of particular favourites I treasure. 

Be All My Sins Remembered by spoopyy

Summary:  In every lifetime, they find each other.

Review: This fic manages to take you on a long journey through what feels like a series of AUs and they all weave in and out of the wealth of their relationship with some vivid descriptions of the historical settings their journey takes them through. As someone who grew up reading Anne Rice’s epics through historical events, this fic is right up my alley. A vampire Shane passing through the wave of human society’s climb searching for a reincarnated Ryan again and again, trying to hold on to him and keep him through great tragedies and timeframes that just don’t let them be together. This was one of the first fics I read when I was only a lurker and to be quite honest, I need to give this one a nice re-read, maybe for the book club which would be loads of fun. Either way, 10/10. Would be Hurt in the heart again.

Perfect Fit by @beaniegara

Summary:  There’s a legend that says anyone able to take all of statue Shane’s cock will summon the god to the mortal realm. Given the statue’s excessive size, no one has ever succeeded to prove or disprove the story. Until Ryan that is.

Review: Listen. You wanna talk actual fandom legends. This fic is one of them and it pulls out all the stops on being delicious and evocative. Also features one of my favourite incarnations of size queen bergara. Good stuff and you’re really rooting for Ryan in this lol.

a prize for rotten judgement  by sarcasticfishes

Summary: “You’d drive each other crazy. You sit together at your office all day, and then you’d be commuting home together, eating dinner together, watching TV together, going to bed — well, not together, but you get it, right?”

It doesn’t sound so awful to Shane. There are worse people he could be spending all his hours with than Ryan Bergara.

Review: The moment I happened to glance at the notes of this and saw that Fie’s secondary title for this would have been Ryan and Shane move to the Suburbs, I about lost it with excitement. Primarily because the show this references is one of my favourite comedies and that is one of my all-time favourite episodes. Let me tell you though, even if the reference is lost on you, this story is so much gold rolled into a heart-gripping tale of two best friends who spend every waking moment together taking the plunge to share a home and they were roommates oh my god they were roommates. Shane is pining and you’ll pine right along with him as you’ll yell and holler for him to stop being so damn real and full of doubt. It really is worth every gasp of pain and all the more for the execution but the delivery will leave you in delight. Certainly had me yelling at the author. This fic is gonna be one of my timeless favourites; I knew it the moment I began.

Everything’s Weird and We’re Always in Danger by beethechange

Summary: Ryan perches on the edge of the bed, an indistinct shape that Shane can only just make out in the dark, so he turns the lamp back on. He wants to see Ryan’s face, wants to know that he is alright. Ryan’s cheeks are damp, his hands fisted in the hideous flowered duvet.

“It won’t go away,” Ryan says miserably. “I’ve been like this since we got here, basically, and it won’t fucking—”

“Ah,” Shane says. “Well, you know, sometimes fear…adrenaline…they can affect people. Physically.” He waves his hands indistinctly crotchward. “It’s a, a scientifically known phenomenon.” Shane feels a little better staying in the realm of scientifically known phenomena.

Review: Word of advice. You see a fic is authored by beethechange, run don’t walk because you’re absolutely always going to be treated to the best of banter, the best of prose, chemistry, organic execution and feels right up the bottom end of your heart. This fic, this changed everything I thought I knew I wanted out of a bed-sharing fic. It’s got a little bit of two treats here. You got a sex-pollen-esque situation mixed with bed-sharing and holy fucking damn that is more than you think you deserve, but read this because you do deserve the best of the best. The build up, the dialogue, the surprisingly hilarity of it, the hotness woah, and The Aftermath. When you think you know what you’re in for, you’re wrong and you’re most pleasantly surprised. Get this fic in your life and honestly? while you’re at it, you could do a clean sweep of every fic in her list of works and while my less than adequate reading time management may still be short on some of her most well-recommended pieces, I have an adamant faith that Bee doesn’t disappoint. Go get y’all juice.

Maelstrom by thewindupbird

Summary:  Here’s the thing about driving halfway across the country to see someone. You can’t really deny, after that, that you’re pretty much head over heels for them.

Review: Listen. One morning on a day off, I just laid in bed and read this– all 40k+ words– while lying there clutching my pillows, hurting and loving every moment of it. The descriptions of Americana, the slow steady metronome rhythm of Ryan’s feelings as frightened and helpless as they feel when you’re relating deeply to them juxtaposed with the deep-seated struggle of understanding what it is to be with someone you love so much but your mental health is burning quiet holes in your ability to express it in a way that can be understand. Ryan’s fierce determination, breaking through the silence of their non communication is really Everything to me in this fic. i think I really left my heart in the scene in Shane’s parents kitchen. That finished me. Read this fic and understand the deep relief you get when you’ve finished a fight with someone you fiercely care about and they understand you and you understand them and it’s OK; it’s gonna be all right. Augh.

5 times Shane had to overrule Ryan’s “No Homo” + 1 time he didn’t have to by ghoulboyboos

Summary: There was only one thing that would truly drive him up the wall with Ryan, much more than any debate about ghosts ever could: Ryan’s consistent twitches of “no homo” when any sort of physical contract between them happened.

Review: I have such a soft special spot in my heart for this fic particularly because Lud manages to examine a trope I tend to avoid in such a sweet and honest way I couldn’t not love this fic. The story takes a painstaking and very real look at the “no homo” issue as it weaved through the journey that was early days Ryan and Shane. Shane’s reaction to in this and how he communicates with Ryan has such a very heartfelt and once again, real quality to it. I get in my feelings all over again about how far they’ve come and what it meant for Ryan to have Shane there. Lud really nails this piece and it’s a classic in my eyes.

A Burial on Box Hill by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: The Celtics believed that the yew flower symbolized both immortality and death. Meanwhile, for centuries, the buxus flower was seen as a symbol for safe passage into the afterlife.

Or,Shane and Ryan were never the same after investigating the Black Forest of Germany alone.

Review: Let me just quote my bookmark comment here. Usually I flee from tragedy like a cat spotting a cucumber but the brevity and the prose dragged me in and now I’m a functioning mess. Bless this fic. Oh my god it’s short and reads like one of those quick horror stories you’ll read to your friends just as the scary stories are transitioning from the urban legends to the ones that feel real. Big warning for main character death but still read it if you appreciate a good story told.

Body Farming by shiphitsthefan

Summary: Failed suppressants and a surprise heat: the worst of cliches, and here Ryan stands, living the trope on location with the alpha he’s hopelessly in love with. Even worse, they’re spending the night in the famous Bell Witch Cave, completely alone and with no way to contact the outside world.

Ryan knows he can survive and keep his preheat a secret, as long as Shane will stop being so protective and concerned. After all, it’s not like Shane wants to bond with him.

Right?

Review: Now judging from the reactions of many people I’ve spoken to, big heavy ABO kink is not popular here but guys, GUYS. This one. Let this one in I promise it is not what you think it is. The dynamic is organic and the worst side of the trope is subverted in all the best ways and lord help us, the smut is hot, like swelteringly smoking. It’ll stay with you.

Believer by cellard00rs

Summary:  Some demons and otherworldly creatures love climbing up the power ladder. Shane is not one of these. He likes where he is (thank you very much) and has no interest in moving up. All he wants is to give his friend Ryan a nice birthday gift. So, naturally, everything goes to hell.

Review: This fic is another fandom legend. When I think demon!Shane. It’s this and one other one that always pops right into my mind. This was my first exposure to the bureaucracy meets the supernatural!Shane trope and I was sold from the get-go. The Shane in this fic is everything I imagine a demon!Shane is and his ginger care for Ryan, the concept of their bond and how even though Shane is a demon and responsible for keeping the supernatural a firm secret from Ryan and the rest of the world, his skepticism is relayed through his status as a demon. I want to talk more about it but I think so much of the enjoyment comes from the surprises as the plot unfurls.

hey boy, take a look at me by weakspots

Summary: Ryan is 27, for Christ’s sake, and he’s not exactly hideous, so there’s really no reason to spend his money on a dude — a dude — whose face he’ll never see but whose livestreams he’s been jerking off to for roughly 4 months now. He should be going out and partying and fucking random chicks. Or a guy, whatever, just to get it out of his system and confirm to himself that he really is 100% straight.

Because he is. This is morbid curiosity, if anything.

Review: I’ve been a long-time fan of this universe and it was a universe I didn’t know I needed until this author gave it to us. We or rather me, a desperate audience, just devoured this with every update. Not only is it hot, but it has the delicious intrigue of secret identity, anonymous stuff and a LOT of blush-worthy prose therein. This version of Shane makes me thrive but the titillating nature of straight-identifying!Ryan being bowled over by the turn of events that leads him to his world tilting into the gravity of a camboy just--you Have to read this one!

Heartbeat by quackers

Summary:  So the guy Ryan sits next to at work is a vampire. That’s no big deal, right?

Review: I could talk your literal ear off about this fic. Vampires, man. I love the trope; you don’t know me as a person if you don’t know this at least. And this fic kept me fed all damn year. It was a readable garden. If there is one thing I can guarantee about quackers’ work, it’s that their world-building is a festival of detail. The realms and alternate universes they work with while still managing to keep Shane and Ryan’s voices so familiar and real is a talent not attributed to your everyday author. This fic propelled me into wanting to write more and more because quackers makes stories so much fun! Reading their work is, to me, not unlike the feeling I got when I was younger and finding series that speak to my need to escape this crummy existence, made me want to believe in fun spicy things like a vampire that lived through centuries, cynical but still searching, navigating a world where people are still people, adjusting to differences and prejudices, finding comfort in a guy that understands that and more. I’ve talked about this fic in more than a few different posts so I’d just be reiterating a lot of things I loved about the more historical aspects of Shane’s journey, the way Ryan is so firmly curious and inventive in ways to connect with Shane. Look, even if vampires aren’t your thing, I can promise that if you visit quackers list of work, you will find something for your supernatural-lovin’ palate that speaks to a gentler side of your own curiosity about monsters and the jocks that love them. lol.

I’ll Crawl Home by carrieonfighting

Summary:  “Shane was almost unnerved by how quickly he’d settled into this body, this name, this life - his friendship with Ryan was the most time he’d spent with any human before, and yet the man fascinated him.”

Review: This is the second fic I think of when someone says the words ‘demon!Shane’ to me because ohhhh my word, this fic is a masterpiece. I really am hard-pressed to find anything better than the feeling I get when I think of demon!Shane headcanons interwoven with the irl Buzzfeed reality and the idea of the Ryan as we know him being protected and watched and loved so deeply by a demon that found him so long ago and wanted nothing but to protect him. I feel an almost vicious glee reliving that moment when Ryan and Shane are on goatman’s bridge and man, I just really love canonical fic mixed with a slight twist. The writing in this makes it work so well with lines that still haunt my heart and soul like “Ryan liked popcorn. So did the demon. Genuinely, not just out of a desire to please the human – he liked the way it crunched between his vessel’s teeth. There were some aspects of taking a corporeal form that were… nice; laughing, coffee, feeling warm. Ryan made him laugh.” FUCK! The beautiful agony of it, watching the demon fall in love with Ryan through the eyes of his vessel. Just stark with pain and unspoken, well-written angst and pain with a perfect ending, I wouldn’t change for anything. I love this for us as a fandom and will always love that author crafted this piece and shared it with us. (Also every time I hear Work Song by Hozier, I think of this fic again and sigh).

[pedros-mustache-main]

a thing for hermia

summary: though she be but little, she is fierce—and hopelessly in love.

word count: 1.5k+ (she a baby)

warnings: language, innuendo  

a/n: just wanna be upfront and say i basically got the idea for this from a blurb by the lovely @almightygwil. she said i could role with it, so this happened. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

also you can easily find the scene mentioned in the fic on youtube. it’s one of my favs, hence why i rambled on about it for too long. what’s italicized is shakespeare’s.

“curtain rises in ten, ladies!” richard, stage manager extraordinaire and cast wrangler, sticks his head in the door of your dressing room, tapping his knuckles against the wall. his face is flushed with stress, and the headset on his shoulders is askew. “best be ready soon.”

your cast mate, olive, winks at the middle-aged, balding, pudgy man, blush container poised halfway between her chest and her face. “i’m always ready for you, richard, dear,” she coos, to which richard, bless him, blushes and ducks out the door.

you slide your gaze to her reflection in the mirror. “you mustn’t tease him so. one day he might burst.”

olive dabs a bit of chapstick on her lips before standing. she secures her gown with a final pin and batts her eyelashes coyly. “richard is lovely and i mean every word i say. if he wants me, he can come have me.”

rising from your chair, you tug on your extensions. opening night had gone smoothly, no locks tugged out of place, but one could never be too certain. it was only a week in to the show’s run, but still you worried the hairpiece would fall off onstage. your face burned with embarrassment at the mere thought.

“god, if only my hair were this thick,” you say.

“and if only i had a million pounds. here, you’ve got some tool loose.” olive moves to stand behind you and adjust the tool beneath your dress. she meets your eyes over your shoulder, and you internally brace yourself. you know that glint; it’s nothing but trouble.

“what?” you ask, eyebrow lifted. “what is it?”

“your boyfriend,” she starts. her voice trails off as she turns her back, gathering a last minute glance at her script.

“joe?”

“he hasn’t come yet has he?”

you shake your head and pull on your ballet flats. “no. he’s in new york. i think he’ll be able to come next month.”

“you’re not angry? that he couldn’t make opening night?”

shrugging, you follow her into the hall. there’s a buzz here, as there always is. it settles in your veins like a drug, and soon you can’t help the ridiculous smile painted across your face. you dodge a member of the crew, arms laden with fake foliage and a face plastered in fear. 

“he’s busy, olive,” you say, rounding the corner. “london is thousands of miles from new york, and i think he had an important meeting that night. besides, being angry about something that’s over and done is pointless. he’ll come when he can and it will still be special.”

olive looks at you with disgust. “ugh,” she groans. “[y/n], you’re a saint and it sickens me. well, whatever he’s like, he doesn’t deserve you. if my boyfriend missed my first opening night on the west end—in a shakespeare play, no less—i’d chop his dick off.”

“guess i’ll be glad you don’t have a boyfriend then.”

olive slaps your shoulder. “uh! low blow!”

“there’s always time to butter richard up a bit more.”

before olive can respond, your director takes her place atop an overturned milk crate. she holds up her hands, and the cast and crew gathered around fall quiet. victoria is one of the youngest women to ever direct a version of ‘a midsummer night’s dream’ on the west end, and you couldn’t be more proud of being her hermia. you couldn’t be more proud of those around you. really, the tears that consistently well in your eyes when you look around the room and marvel at all you’ve accomplished are ridiculous. but you can’t help it.

five minutes before curtain is the same every night: a pep talk from victoria, a group huddle, whispered words of affection and good wishes. then all is silent. like well-oiled cogs in a machine, each person moves about their business, working for the good of the group and the good of the show. tonight is no different, and the surge of excitement you feel before stepping out on stage for the first time tingles from your head to your feet.

olive catches your arm seconds before you make your entrance. “break a leg,” she whispers, her fingers squeezing your elbow. that same glint—the one that spells trouble—lights her eyes, but you don’t have time to process it, wonder what’s gotten into her, before whisking onto the stage.

your favorite scene: act three, scene two.

you suppose it’s the nerd in you, the way you chomp at the bit to reach this scene each night. it might be the dialogue, the iconic lines and quick back and forth between your costars, that gets you so riled up. or maybe it’s simply the energy of being on stage as a group—yourself, olive, matthew, and nick—and feeding off one another’s frenzied energy. the physicality of the scene, too... you could ramble for days.

tonight, the energy is heightened tenfold. you can’t be sure, but you think olive is the one pushing things higher. there’s an unmistakable excitement about her you rarely see, and you rise to meet the challenge, careful to keep your words from fumbling together.

“O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom! You thief of love! what, have you come by night and stolen my love's heart from him?” tiny droplets of spit fly from your mouth as you speak, circling olive where she stands.

her eyes narrow, though she remains still. “Fine, i'faith! Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, no touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear impatient answers from my gentle tongue? Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you!”

straightening, you face the audience, face pulled blank in shock. “Puppet? why so?” in a moment you keep for yourself, you scan the crowd, allowing your words to sink in before you continue. your eyes trip over a familiar face, one you know dearly but can’t place in the second you have to pause. 

twisting back to olive, you say, “Ay, that way goes the game. Now I perceive that she hath made compare between our statures; she hath urged her height; and with her personage, her tall personage, her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.”

then it clicks.

oh my god—joe!

the thought—the realization that he’s here, in a poorly padded chair, watching your every move, your every word—steals the next lines from your mouth. you want to turn, to smile at him and wave like a giddy schoolgirl, but you can’t. 

so you shake yourself free, well-aware that you’ve taken too many seconds to continue, and surge forward, struggling to keep your smile at bay.

“And are you grown so high in his esteem; because I am so dwarfish and so low? How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak; how low am I? I am not yet so low but that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.”

during curtain call, you squeeze olive’s hand hard and lean toward her ear. “you knew,” you whisper. “that he’d be here.”

she says nothing, only smiles and waves toward the crowd, her hand squeezing yours back.

it’s all you can do to not run to your dressing room once the curtain has fallen. there’s things to do, things to put away, before you can meet joe in the theatre, and your blood pumps hard with adrenaline. throwing open the door to your room, you pull the straps of your gown off your shoulders, eager to work as quickly as possible.

“whoa, whoa, whoa. i mean, i’m all for it, but wouldn’t a hello be nice first?”

squeaking, you jump, holding the top of your dress against your chest. joe sits on the ratty armchair in the corner, a bouquet of roses in hand, and an infuriating smirk on his face. 

unbidden, tears pool in your eyes. “i fucking hate you,” you say, crossing the floor to swat his chest. he laughs and grabs your waist, drawing you to his lap before you can wiggle away. holding his face in your hands, you whisper, “why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“i wanted it to be a surprise.”

“well, it worked! i nearly forget all my lines when i saw you.”

his smirk widens. “i thought i caught that.” squeezing your hip, he brushes a lock of hair away from your face. “i’m really proud of you. you were incredible.”

the blush that rises to your cheeks is embarrassing, but you hold his gaze despite it. “thanks.”

“do i get anything special for coming all this way and not spoiling the surprise?”

you know what he’s hinting at, and by george, you’d do it right here right now, but the hallway is too busy and someone is bound to hear you. so you lean forward and kiss him softly, moving your lips over his in the way he likes, enough to tease.

“maybe later,” you breathe, pulling away. he looks at you through hooded eyes, dark with desire, and it sends a thrill to your stomach. “first i want you to meet everyone.”

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #216: “... To Avenge the Avengers!”

February, 1982

"Avenge us, Tigra! The Molecule Man must die!”

Eesh, the Avengers plus Silver Surfer have gone full Hamlet’s Dad on Tigra and she’s gonna cat Molecule Man and his plush himself to death. But he’s ready for it.

But why? Well...

Last time: Silver Surfer inadvertently gave Molecule Man the idea to eat Earth. The Avengers and the Surfer teamed up to stop him but he just Molecule Manned their sweet gear into nothing, captured them all, and then stomped them under a giant boot-o-matic crusher! Except Tigra who he kept around because he wanted someone to talk at and because Tigra had claimed that she liked him!

This time: “Tigra... the Last Avenger!”

Nice touch that the book name inside the book has been changed to match even if the cover hasn’t.

That is a tough hat to wear. Did you know its only been a little over a week since she joined the team?

And in that time she got thrown into space by an Elf-Queen, watched a founding Avenger have an emotional breakdown and try to kill his friends to make them like him again, had her soul set on fire, been repeatedly harassed in public, and watched the whole team be killed with her life only being spared because she begged for her life!

Is this the worst week and change in Avengers history? IT MIGHT WELL BE!

“She was spared. The fear of death has drained away now, leaving only emptiness behind. She has never felt so alone.”

This narration set in the same panel where Molecule Man is all but slapping the giant boot and going ‘this bad boy can crush so many fucking Avengers in it.’

Well really, its more like

Molecule Man: “Well, cat-lady, they’re dead! Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, and that Silver Surfer guy -- squished flat by my giant boot-o-matic crusher! You know, I made this thing out of molecules from a scrapyard! Yessir, I believe in recycling!”

But that’s about the same level of dissonance between jolly goofus villain rambling and hollow despair.

Anyway, Molecule Man calls her out on being such a bummer because she’s moping over there when he’s feeling good about killing the Avengers and really Tigra try to consider how he feels geez.

So she shakes off the despair and asks hey what exactly is Molecule Man going to do with her?

Tigra: “Am I going to be your mate or...”

Molecule Man: “What? Nah! I never got along with girls! I mean, you know... that way! Yessir, mom always warned me about... that! And she was right! You can be my friend! No! Make that -- my pet! Here, kitty, kitty!”

Wow.

That. That dodged a bullet in a cool Matrix bullet time way right into another bullet.

Let’s please not get too creepy with this, huh? You listening to me, comic published nearly forty years ago? Let’s not get creepy!

Molecule Man decides to be a responsible pet owner and feed his pet. He can control molecules so obviously it should be no trouble to just rearrange them into any configuration he--

Okay, its apparently really hard to make food! Way too complicated!

He’s going to be an irresponsible pet owner and not feed Tigra. And meanwhile he’s going to chow down on some undifferentiated mush or possibly a pile of dust. Its all molecules so its all the same to him.

Tigra didn’t even want food but asks him where the bathroom is.

Molecule Man: “Bathroom? Hmm... well, I really don’t understand how plumbing works, so I couldn’t make a bathroom! If you want, though, I could sort of fake it...”

Tigra: “No, I’ll be all right! i just feel a little sick...”

Molecule Man: “So go be sick for a while! I’ve got to get started on my little project anyway! If I’m going to eat this stupid planet -- I’ve got to prepare by clearing away all the living things from a few square miles of land.”

And he gets started! A giant ridge of land just peels up from the ground, like Molecule Man is skinning a fruit before eating. Also a volcano erupts. Pretty sure there weren’t any volcanoes in New Jersey before now.

Fairly sure.

Outside the dome, thankfully the army has been evacuating everyone in a fifty-mile radius or else a lot of people would be dead. VOLCANO.

Then the Fantastic Four arrive.

Yayyyyy! Oh whoa whoa, Fantastic Fourrr!

They’ve got the best Molecule Man mashing record so they’re here to do what they do do.

Which in this context is fail like champs.

Ben Grimm the Thing tries to shatter the dome with a punch and no dice. Then Human Torch cranks up to nova flame and applies the heat of a sun on one little spot on the dome.

Johnny about wears himself out doing it and still no result.

Guess Iron Man, Thor, and Silver Surfer > a pinpoint miniature sun.

Meanwhile inside, Molecule Man tells Tigra hey get a load of this. And then he levitates a couple billion gallons of water from the Delaware River and dumps it on the Fantastic Four, plus the army, washing them away.

Invisible Woman: “Reed, it -- it doesn’t seem possible!”

Mr. Fantastic: “Everything is made of molecules, Sue! Anything is possible for the Molecule Man!”

Molecule Man far too hax.

But meanwhile, gasp, the Avengers weren’t actually all killed in a book with their name on it! This is unprecedented!

And Silver Surfer is ready to explain their unlikely survival of giant crushing boot.

See, Silver Surfer wasn’t quite as knocked unconscious as the three Avengers so he played possum. When Molecule Man put the Avengers plus Silver Surfer in the crushing boot and when it was just about to crush, Silver Surfer used the Power Cosmic to disintegrate the bottom part of the boot so that the Avengers and him fell to a lower floor. Completely uncrushed!

So that’s good.

The bad is that Silver Surfer has to report that Tigra is still in Molecule Man’s clutches.

The awkward is that Iron Man and Thor lost their armor and hammer respectively so Cap is like ‘wait, what are Tony Stark and Perfectly Normal Dr. Donald Blake doing here??’

So Tony and Don come clean about his secret ID.

Tony Stark, Actually Iron Man: “I feel a little foolish about keeping that secret from you till now! I’m sure Don feels the same way...”

Donald Blake, Dr. Thor: “Right, Tony...”

So now Cap is in on the secret which previously bound Tony and Don together as the Best Friends Avengers Who Aren’t Beast and Wonder Man.

Remember when they discovered each other’s secret IDs? Good times. Well, weird times. That was the issue when that hates-robots group suicide bombed Vision for dating a meat woman.

Also, Tony was only wearing underwear under the Iron Man armor so Don gave him his suit jacket to wear as a loincloth. Mighty nice of him.

Silver Surfer has just been standing on the sides not caring about all this secret ID nonsense or personal drama so he chimes in to point out that Molecule Man is going to eat the planet unless they stop him.

Cap decides that he and the Surfer have to strike before Molecule Man realizes they’re alive. Tony and Don have the important mission to hide somewhere safe.

Tony and Don object to being sidelined. Strongly.

Tony: “You think Iron Man is just a suit of armor, Cap? Is that what you’re saying?”

Don: “I found this rod to use as a makeshift cane! It won’t change me into a thunder god, but it’ll help me get around -- if only to draw fire!”

Tony: “Like it or not, we’re with you!”

Don: “The Avengers stand assembled, Captain America! Now, lead us!”

Cap: “All right! I get the message! I should have known better than to think you’d -- I mean, you two are the best...”

Tony: “Save it, Cap! We’ve got work to do!”

Aww.

This is everything I could have hoped for out of secret ID reveal. Cap starts thinking of them as civilians now that they have real person names but ultimately it brings them closer as teammates.

I love it. Granted, I love it because my favorite form of Avengers is a group of friends and set of interpersonal dramas roughly shaped like a superhero team.

Later, in the nighttime and in the room that Molecule Man made for Tigra.

... Wow, Molecule Man.

Wow.

So we’ve got a giant cat shaped bed. A giant, terrifying cat head on the wall. And a giant ball of yarn. But not giant sized cat tree? Fie and shame.

Anyway, Tigra is sitting on bed lamenting and decrying the Fantastic Four’s failure. Especially as it pertains to her situation.

Tigra: “I -- I just can’t believe the Fantastic Four failed! How could they let me -- and the world down like that? How could they? Right now, Reed Richards is probably locked in his lab trying to invent a gizmo that’ll pierce the dome! Hmf! Who knows how long that might take? The Molecule Man plans to eat the Earth tomorrow morning!”

Nothing like a nice filling breakfast, I guess.

She grants that Reed doesn’t know there’s an everyone’s-deadline so instead Tigra bemoans that it’s all up to her.

Tigra: “I should have tried to jump him today! I can’t believe I didn’t! I was standing right next to him a couple of times! I’m cat-quick! Why didn’t I lunge at him and claw him to shreds before he could move? Could it be because my muscles felt like jelly -- ? I was trembling -- ? In shock -- ? Afraid of him? Hey, shouldn’t I be? I mean, I saw him crush my friends to a bloody smear! And I had a spooky feeling that he was somehow, secretly ready for an attack -- and hoping I’d give him an excuse to dice me into furry cubes!”

And because this is a Tigra character beat page, she also thinks about how easy the hero gig used to seem when it was for smaller stakes. But with the actual literal fate of the world at stake... “I never thought that when the big test came I’d be a scaredy cat!”

But she remembers what Cap said during the Ghost Rider story that its not wrong to be frightened if you don’t let fear dictate your actions.

So she creeps out into the night to Molecule Man’s bedroom.

Oh, that’s a neat touch.

Her shadow on the wall looks a lot like a tiger because her hair curls at the end like a tail.

Neat.

So anyway, she doesn’t understand how Molecule Man can be so confident that he’s just sleeping with his door wide open and with no defenses and wonders if there’s a trap or whether he’s just counting on her to think that there’s a trap.

She’s about five seconds from a full-blown I know you know that I know that you know episode.

The only way to find out is just go for it so she creeps into the room. The garish room.

This is even more wow than Tigra’s room.

But as she creeps into the room and up to the enormous, ridiculous bed, she realizes that she has to kill him. If she attacks and doesn’t kill him with the first strike, what he could do is too horrible for her to imagine.

But what she doesn’t realize is that Molecule Man isn’t sleeping soundly and isn’t unprepared. 

He’s stretched monomolecular filaments across the room, too thin for even Tigra to spot.

Now usually monomolecular filaments is one of those ‘oops I’ve been cut to pieces by invisible wires’ thing. You’ve probably seen it in a couple of anime. But this is more like a bunch of cans on a string.

Tigra breaks one of the filaments while she creeps forward. Something that she couldn’t possibly know but which instantly alerts him.

And his response is a “Oh, ho! Just wait’ll she tries it! This’ll be fun!”

Because Tigra’s instinct was correct. Molecule Man was keeping her around just to kill when she finally tried anything. Its been a game. See how far he can push Tigra and how messily he can deal with her when she loses.

This is pretty tense stuff! Well, it lasts a page so it doesn’t overfocus on this specific tense scenario but still!

Tigra: “I’m in range! All I’ve got to do is spring and... and kill him! He murdered my friends! He’s going to destroy the whole world! I’ve got to kill him! Come on, lady! Do it! What’s wrong? He deserves it! He’s a murderer -- ! A rotten little wimp! He calls you ‘kitty’! Kill him! I hate him! I hate him! but... i just can’t kill him!”

And apologizing to Cap for not being able to go through with it, she slinks out of the room trying to think of another way.

Inside the room, Molecule Man sits up disgruntled, just not understanding at all why she didn’t go through with it. There’s no way she could have known that he was ready for her so why wouldn’t she try to do a murder!

And then as Tigra is wishing she had someone to talk to, someone grabs her and pulls her around a corner.

Boom, a comedy after all that one page of tension.

And it’s Cap because there’s like four people it could have been.

Tigra is elated that the Cap is alive, that she’s not alone anymore! And she tries to confess that she attempted to kill Molecule Man to avenge the Avengers. That maybe she should have because now she might lose them again!

Tony: “You did fine, Tigra! Relax!”

But she doesn’t feel like she did fine so she tries to explain that she let the Avengers down by giving into cowardice. She told Molecule Man she liked him to stay alive.

Cap: “Good strategy, Tigra -- preserving your life so you’d be able to carry on the battle!”

She tries to explain it wasn’t strategy so much as being terrified but she gets distracted because she’s just realized that in this group of Cap and Silver Guy there’s two people she doesn’t know.

Cap: “Dr. Don Blake, who’s secretly Thor and Tony Stark who is Iron Man’s alter ego!”

Her mood immediately flips.

Tigra: “You guys are really Thor and Iron Man? Really? And it’s okay for me to know? Really?”

Tony Stark: “Why not? Somehow those secrets seem pretty trivial, what with the world on the verge of being the Molecule Man’s breakfast!”

He says that but he still looks pretty annoyed at Cap just blurting it out.

And geez, Cap, you gotta let people reveal their own secret identities. Or make up some dumb excuse that everyone instantly believes.

Its the done thing.

In terms of Avengers drama though this is pretty good. Thor, Cap, and Iron Man have been working together for a really long time. Even though Cap didn’t form the Avengers he’s basically been there so long they consider him an honorary founder.

Cap learning Iron Man and Thor’s secret identities can be a ‘we should have told you sooner!’ thing.

Tigra just joined the team! Like a week ago!

They need to work together now and there’s probably no smooth lie that could paper over where Iron Man and Thor went and why these two are here now but its probably still a little galling that Cap just blurts it out to the newest person on the team.

Its great. I’d love to see the repercussions of this.

Anyway, time is short so Tony gets to explaining the plan.

He found his broken armor and managed to scavenge enough bits and pieces to make a little device he’s calling a screamer. It’ll emit a high-pitched noise that should disorient Molecule Man.

And then the device just poofs into smoke in Tony’s hand.

Whoops, Molecule Man overheard their plan to beat up Molecule Man and also heard Tony call him names.

So he pulls together all the loose dust in the room and uses it to strangle Tony.

Wow, they’ve gone from having a “layered assault” to watching someone literally choke on Molecule Man’s dust. That’s got to be the quickest turnaround from hope to nope.

Tigra goes wild, rushing at Molecule Man and screaming that she shoulda killed him before and she’s damn well going to scratch his face off now!

But Molecule Man asks her to talk to the hand. Zing.

Puns.

Although “Don’t scream at me, Kitty! ‘Cause I’ll slap you down!”

Sure. That’s good wordplay too.

Having just been comedically (although seriously) WHAP!’d across the room, Tigra has her own words to say.

Tigra: “You -- you weak, slimy excuse for a human being! How could I have stooped so low as to humble myself to garbage like you? So you’ve got power! Big deal! You were a nerd before -- you’re still a nerd! You were a mistake! You shouldn’t even have been born! You crybaby! All you do is blame the world for your own inedequacy! Go on, kill me, nerd! I despise living in the same world with you!”

Wow. She really took all those personal details he shared and slapped him upside the head with them.

Goes to show. Don’t try to destroy the world. People will have rude things to say.

Meanwhile, Cap and Silver Surfer are trying to save Tony but can’t clear the super condense dust faster than Molecule Man gathers it.

Cap tells Tigra to get Molecule Man because that’s their only chance but Tigra is too hurt from being slapped by a giant hand.

Molecule Man: “I’ve got to hand it to you guys, it must’ve taken some doing to escape my crusher! This time, I’m going to make sure you’re dead! Hmm... someone’s missing! But who?”

And he’s done process of elimination and realized that the guy Thor turned into is missing and figures he ran away when Entirely Normal But Furious Dr. Donald Blake tells Molecule Man to grit his teeth.

And then Molecule Man runs off yelling because Dr. Donald Blake can throw down. He possibly broke Molecule Man’s nose with that one punch.

Good job, Dr. Donald Blake.

With Molecule Man not focusing on the dust thing, Tony is free of the dust thing but unconscious. Dr. Donald Blake tells the others that he’ll take care of Tony and that they should go chase Molecule Man since they can run better than he can.

So Cap, Tigra, and Silver Surfer go off in pursuit of Molecule Man.

Silver Surfer reminds that he can track Molecule Man’s unique energies. Cap helpfully points out that they can also just track the trail of blood drips from Molecule Man’s nose. And Tigra goes ‘also I can smell him’ because its good to have three different ways to find a guy.

They find him in some sort of throne room (curled up in pain on the throne) and charge at him. But he’s not in the mood for their shenanigans.

So he sends a tidal wave of molecules at them.

Cap shouts for Silver Surfer to do something and he does do something indeed.

The Surfer blasts the wave of matter with the power cosmic so hard that it transmutes into raw energy and just explodes through the top of the palace in a beautiful pyrotechnic display.

It also completely exhausts the Surfer and he just kind of plops down for a nap right there on the ground.

Cap tells Tigra to watch the Surfer and then goes to take the Molecule Man on alone.

This isn’t a great plan but also their already small roster has kind of dwindled to this point.

And maybe Cap sort of doesn’t want to throw Tigra at Molecule Man when she’s already been hurt and was voicing all those doubts earlier. Can’t say for sure. She’s about to offer for help but Cap is like ‘WHOOPS NOW OR NEVER!’

Molecule Man must be in a whimsical mood, I mean more so than usual have you seen what he’s been getting up to? Because he converts some of the furnishings into a bunch of stars to shoot at Cap.

Its funny because Cap wears a star. It’d be ironic if he got smacked in the face with one, probably.

But Molecule Man activated Cap’s speechifying and that buffs him because nobody likes hearing Cap talk about freedom and justice and doing right more than Cap probably.

What I’m saying is that he leaps and gambols between the stars and I feel its because he has Stuff To Say that he’s doing so well.

Cap: “You make me sick, mister! They say power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely,  and you’re living proof of it! You might kill me! After all, I’m just an ordinary man -- but men like me have always found a way to bring high-and-mighty tyrants like you to their knees! There’s never enough power to save madmen like you -- from ultimate, bitter defeat!”

WAK!

And perhaps it wasn’t just his agility that was improved by inspirational speeching himself. Because he knocks Molecule Man down with that one punch and he doesn’t get back up.

Or maybe Molecule Man just has a glass jaw.

Don Blake and Tony Stark show up and Silver Surfer wakes up but he runs in with the rest anyway for some reason. Tony tells Tigra to watch Molecule Man while he has an Important Debate with Cap.

See, Tony has realized something. Knocking down Molecule Man is just the first step. If Molecule Man gets back up, he might start eating the Earth again and the Avengers might not be able to stop him.

So he asks Don Blake if there’s a medical way to just sort of keep Molecule Man knocked out.

Don Blake: “How? We can’t just keep hitting him on the head -- this isn’t a T.V. show! I mean, how hard do you hit him? How many times can you do that before causing serious brain damage... or death?”

Realism? In a comic book? What are YOU doing here??

Anyway, Tony doesn’t see any other option but to kill Molecule Man.

Cap protests that Molecule Man is a human being with rights to due process and a trial by jury of his peers!

But Tony is convincing the others. As an Actual Doctor, Don Blake doesn’t like to hear this. He wants to save lives. But he can’t refute Tony.

And Silver Surfer also seems on Team Tony.

Silver Surfer: “I understand what it is to sacrifice one life so that a multitude, a world might live! It seems clear that this Molecule Man cannot be imprisoned or held in check! He... must die to save the Earth... though I could never bring myself to slay him!”

Don’t you have the power cosmic? Surely there’s a power cosmic option available?

To be fair though his the power cosmic might be exhausted at the moment.

Still. Geez, Silver Surfer. ‘He gotta die but 1-2-3-not-it’ is really how you’re playing this??

Meanwhile, Tigra has decided that being asked to watch Molecule Man implies a certain duty perhaps even responsibility to tell him how much he sucks. Which is a lot.

And recall that she’s already told him how much he sucks earlier in the fight. So she has found a second wind in telling him how much he sucks.

Tigra: “You little jerk! Don’t you see? Cap was wrong! Power very seldom corrupts! It usually doesn’t change anything! It just magnifies what’s already there, whether it’s good and noble or evil and petty!”

“You were a nerd before... now you’re a powerful nerd! Big deal! Dummy! The shame of it is that with your power you can build... you can contribute! You don’t have to be a loser anymore!”

“Why are you such a fool? Why can’t you see that killing a planetful of people doesn’t make you even -- it just make you lonelier than ever!”

Wow. It feels like Tigra could hypothetically be talking about all different kinds of entitled nerds who then become the jerks as adults!

Anyway.

Tony and Cap are still arguing.

Tony, at least, isn’t going to ask someone to do something he wouldn’t do himself. I.e., he���s going to kill Molecule Man himself and save four billion people.

Cap: “Tony... please! I can’t let you do this!”

Tony: “You can take me in for murder afterward, Cap, but for now, stand aside! I’m warning you...”

Cap: “You’ll have to go through me, Tony...”

You’re warning him, Tony? You don’t have armor. You don’t even have pants. What are you going to do to supersoldier Captain America?

Logic aside, what strikes me is how much this foreshadows.

Before Civil War contrived that superhero registration, the big hot button superhero debate issue is whether superheroes should kill in extreme circumstances.

Spoilers for the NINETIES but the Regular and West Coast Avengers will come to schism and Cap and Iron Man will basically break up over whether or not to kill the Kree Supreme Intelligence after it engineered a war that killed 90% of the Kree people on purpose.

Shooter is long gone by that point but I guess someone is going to pick up the thread.

Because the debate doesn’t get settled here or rather does, sorta, in favor of Cap but not in a way he expects.

Interrupting the sad fist fight between Cap and a nearly naked man, Molecule Man pops up and tells everyone that Tigra has convinced him to turn his life around.

Tigra: “Guys, Mr. Owen Reece and I have talked, and, well, I convinced him to give himself up!”

Mr. Owen Reece: “Yes, I want to start seeing a therapist!”

Cap: “huh?”

Mr. Owen Reece: “I know I’ll have to go to jail... but that’s okay! It’ll give me time to think things out! I’ll make an opening in the dome now so you can call the authorities!”

Don Blake: “s-sure!”

God, that is just great. I love this as a resolution so much. This is a resolution that Squirrel Girl would bring us, although we’d get more of the actual convincing.

Still very, very good. Good to be optimistic in comics sometimes. Sometimes villains can seek redemption if only a cat yells at them long enough.

Although I think the best part is how baffled everyone is by the plot twist.

So with but a “Soon...” caption, the police have come to pick up Mr. Owen Reece and brought Miss Hanrahan who is going to be his therapist.

Holy crap, a therapist in Marvel who isn’t Doc Sampson but will work with superpowered nonsense!

Can we bring Miss Hanrahan back??

A couple things I like here.

One is that Mr. Owen Reece has changed off-panel into a suit instead of his supervillain costume. Now that’s him making an honest effort.

Two is Very Annoyed Tony Stark in the back of the pack of Avengers. He’s wearing a handkerchief as a mask because someone might recognize him as Tony Stark and then wonder ‘hey why is Tony Stark here.’

Three is the proud smile from Tigra when seeing Mr. Owen Reece meet his therapist.

Melts my heart a little.

Before he goes away to jail, Mr. Owen Reece takes a quick sidebar with the Avengers.

He retroactively feels just awful about ruining their various gadgets so he decides to make right.

He reintegrates Mjolnir, Toomie the surfboard, and Cap’s shield exactly as they were. Original molecules and all! They were so weird that he remembered where they all went.

As for Iron Man’s Iron Man armor.... look, he did his best.

Mr. Owen Reece: “But your armor, with all those complicated electronic gadgets is just too tricky for me to reassemble! You needed something more proper to wear till you get home, though -- so I whipped up some red and gold cloth and made you an Iron Man leisure suit! I hope it’s okay!”

Amazing. Simply incredible.

Although I think my favorite part was Mr. Owen Reece realizing ‘hey Iron Man should be wearing pants!’

Anyway, he also takes apart his Molecule Man Doom Fortress and puts those molecules back where he found them. More or less. He tries.

And, yes, he does rebuild the entire town of Netcong, New Jersey. Except the plumbing.

In a funny call back to Reece admitting he doesn’t really understand plumbing, none of the plumbing in the rebuilt town works.

Later, back at Avengers Mansion, Silver Surfer is offered a spot on the team but turns it down.

FOR THE PATHS OF DESTINY DO BECKON HIM DOWN A LONELY ROAD THAT MUST BE TRAVELED ALONE

Its the only who he has ever known. Except for all the time he spend with Galactus. Or the Defenders. Or later on when he has a companion to take on space nonsense.

Tigra also takes this time to say farewell.

Tigra: “I’m just not in the same league as you guys! I mean, sure I’ve got lots of super-ability, and, usually, I'm even pretty heroic -- but not up to your standard! I mean two of you, without your powers, no less, really showed me what it’s all about back there! And let’s face it, you guys mess with some heavy-duty opposition! I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead!”

=C

Noooooooooo

But but but Tigraaa you were a source of joy and fuuuuuuuun

You only joined at the end of #211! It’s only been about a week in-universe!

Darn.

The three other Avengers all say their goodbyes.

Thor reminds her that she was the one who turned around Mr. Owen Reece but Tigra says she got lucky.

Iron Man gives her one of Tony Stark’s cards and tells her to call Tony Stark who is definitely not him anytime she needs anything.

Jarvis even tears up at her leaving, although he denies it because a good butler never dies on duty and then blames his allergies.

And then Tigra is off. Damn. If I didn’t know who might be joining the Avengers soon I’d be completely inconsolable instead of just very.

So now the Avengers are down to just three members. That’s not a team. That’s a crossover. Probably why Jarvis wonders if a membership drive is in order.

NEXT: The return of... Yellowjacket, the Wasp, and Egghead!

I’m game for Wasp coming back! Don’t think it likely that Yellowjacket is just going to come back to the team just like that! And Egghead? The villain who blew up a city with a killsat and killed Hawkeye’s brother? Unlikely recruit!

(No I know that’s not what the NEXT means)

Hey, follow @essential-avengers​ because the Hank Pym just keeps happening. Like and reblog too please. Be sad with me that Tigra is gone.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Burned Part 15

Summary:  Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Part 15: Serious discussions are had. 

         Alfie had some experience with caring for children. He helped his mother as best he could with his younger brother. But he was a bad influence on Adam and it showed early on. His mother urged her youngest to pursue a more respectable life so she didn't have two sons stuck in a cycle of crime. Perle encouraged Adam to focus on education and was extremely proud when he joined the military. Alfie didn’t do anything to pressure his brother into the life he led. If anything, he agreed with his mother and steered Adam away from a life of crime. The last thing he wanted was to have his baby brother’s blood on his hands. His mother would never forgive him.

           Adam Solomons was a family man. He loved his wife and son. He also loved his country and proudly marched off to war. His body was never recovered from Gallipoli. Alfie promised to look after Rose but she was distrustful of the gangster who was making his way through the ranks of the underworld. When he returned from the war, he had no family left aside from his nephew and sister-in-law. Rose, overwhelmed with grief and her reckless seventeen-year-old, took off. Goliath was dropped off on Alfie without any notice.

           He didn’t raise the boy though and couldn't teach him anything of much use. He was already too set in his ways.

           Alfie had been around Ollie’s children before. They all pounced on him the second he walked through the door screeching about lord knows what. They called him Uncle Fie and the oldest boy said he wanted to be a boxer, always trying to get Alfie to fight him. Aside from a tousle of the hair and the occasional piggyback ride, he was uneasy around them. Children were so fragile and vulnerable. He was accustomed to men who could survive a severe beating and get right back to it. Ollie’s wife would smack him if Alfie so much as uttered one swear around the kids. But Alfie saw the pride on his assistant’s face when his children were around. Ollie lived for them and he spoke so fondly about them. It made him wonder what it was like to be a father, lighting up at every mention of his pride and joy. To boast about their achievements and how they made him smile. To see Louise pregnant and thrilled to be a mother. It was tempting.

           Inglewood needed work before they could have any function, especially their wedding. But Louise was thrilled to take on the project. She talked endlessly about the memories she had in each room. How she bruised her knee sliding down the banister, the first pony her father bought her, the stories her mother would tell her at night, and the chocolate cake made for her birthday each year. She wanted to bring those memories back to life as best she could by reviving Inglewood. Improvements and cleaning were left to staff that Alfie hired after a strict vetting process. But Louise wanted to be involved because she felt protective over her home.

           Alfie had never seen her so interested in anything. She paid attention to the restoration process and even began gardening once the overgrown yard was cleared. He could fondly remember one of the early days they were there. Louise had gone out into the warm sunshine, clad in pants and one of his old shirts. She wasn’t afraid to get dirty in the soil and eagerly showed Alfie what she’d planted by the end of the day.

           She was happy and that made him as happy as could be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           One week, Alfie returned back to Inglewood from Camden Town. Louise had stayed, working from the office that had just been redone and furnished along with a portrait of her father proudly hanging by his original desk.

           Alfie stepped out of the car and noticed a few kids bicycling down the driveway. There were three of them, a boy around fourteen, a girl about nine, and another boy that couldn’t be more than seven. They were dressed well, albeit most likely their play clothes, and he could guess they were from around the area.

           When they saw Alfie, they screeched to a halt.

           “Sorry, sir.” The oldest apologized. “This home’s usually empty so we ride up the drive and back.” He explained. The boy was the complete opposite of how Alfie was at the same age. Clean-cut, well mannered, and cautious.

           “S’alright.” Alfie didn’t see the harm with the kids riding their bikes up the way.

           “Are you moving in here?” The girl asked. Her blonde hair in a short bob with a silver clip parting her bangs to the side. “We live down that way.” She pointed past the front lawn of Inglewood where a foot-high stonewall divided the land.

           “Erm, yes, just doing a few renovations.” He nodded and felt out of his comfort zone. He had enough sense not to act the part of the big scary gangster boss in front of children. So that just left him as plain old Alfie.

           As if hearing his silent pleas for help, Louise stepped outside. “Alfie?” She had heard the car pull up and expected him to rush inside to embrace her. “Oh, hello.” She smiled when she saw the children.

           “Do you have any kids our age?” The youngest boy asked hopefully. “I’m seven ‘n a half.” He beamed proudly.

           “I’m afraid we don’t have any children, darling. We’ve only just got married.” It was a lie simply to throw a veil over the situation. Despite the distance between neighbors, word traveled fast in upscale country settings. None of the fashionable ladies of the manors would want to hear that Louise and Alfie weren’t married but still living together. It was the 1920’s but some people were still stuck in the past.

           The little boy pouted. “That’s okay.” Even though he was disappointed, he managed to keep the politeness instilled in them by their nanny.

           The eldest leaned forward, resting his forearms on the handlebars of his bike. “Mum will want to have you ‘round for tea.” He told Louise.

           “That would be lovely. Alfie and I will come and visit once we’re all settled.”

           Alfie furrowed his brow. Afternoon tea in Surrey was not on his to-do list. He cleared his throat and nodded. Whatever Louise wanted and whatever would make her happiest. “Yeah, we’ll pop on by soon. And don’t worry ‘bout us, you can ride your bikes wherever. We don’t mind, yeah?” He looked to Louise who was smiling.

           “Of course not.” She agreed.

           “Thank you!” The littlest shouted a bit louder than necessary and rode off. His sister followed, the wheels kicking up bits of gravel as they went.

           The other boy lingered, glancing at Alfie for a moment. “Well, thank you. Have a good day.” He nodded and went to catch up to his siblings.

           “So sweet,” Louise said softly and linked arms with Alfie to walk inside.

           “Yeah, proper posh kids, aren’t they? You like that when you were that age?” He wondered.

           “Well…I suppose.” She shrugged and led him into the office. “Wasn’t much else to do around here besides spending time outside and with friends.”

           He sat down on one of the couches near the unlit fireplace. Louise happily sat beside him, tucking her feet under her. “Were a lot of things to do in Camden growing up.” He chuckled. “Bad things, yeah, but things all the same. Was probably robbing people at his age.”

           Louise wrapped an arm around his shoulders and snuggled close to his side. “I think we might have gotten along. I got bored easily here.”

           “And you would be the beautiful posh girl that I would do anything to win over.” He nearly laughed at how sappy he was being.

           She watched the lines around his eyes wrinkle in happiness. Her fingers grazed over the nape of his neck, dancing along the edge of his hairline. “You wouldn’t have to try very hard.”

           He chuckled and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Well, m’fraid I won’t be a very good socialite.” It meant to come off as humorous but he couldn’t ignore the passing look the neighbor’s son had given him. Alfie knew he didn’t fit into that society and part of him was perfectly okay with that. But the other part was guilty about not giving Louise everything she wanted.

           “Alfie.” She sighed and turned his cheek so he was looking at her. “I don’t want you to change just because we have this home now. Where we are or who we’re around doesn’t matter. I just want you to always be my Alfie. And I never wanted to be a socialite and I sure as hell don’t want to be one now.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “All I want is to have a life with you.”

           “Lou…” He rested a hand over hers. His blue eyes shining with adoration and a bit of relief. “I don’t want you to ever change either.” He agreed softly.

           She smiled and touched her forehead to his. “I love you.”

           “I love you too.” He closed his eyes for a moment and let his thumb graze over the sapphire embedded in her ring. “D’you want kids?” He asked before he really thought about what conversation he was possibly opening up.

           Louise drew back in surprise. “I-well I suppose we haven’t talked about it.” She agreed without outright answering him. She wasn’t in the mood to strike up a heated debate over the issue. Especially when they weren’t even married yet.

           “I think we should.”

           The admission came out fast and for a moment, Louise thought she hadn’t heard him right. “Well, I…yes I agree.”

           They let the words sit in the air between them. They were thrilled that they were on the same page but both very worried in their unique way. The decision seemed much larger than anything else in their lives.

           “I just know you’d be a good mum, s’all.” He shrugged sheepishly and looked down at her hand still resting in his. “Like to have kids of me own.”

           “I think you’d be a wonderful father, Alfie.” Louise murmured truthfully. “You might not think so but I know how much love you’re capable of having.”

           “I could protect you both.” He vowed. “Would fucking never let anything harm you. I’ve made mistakes that put you in danger but I-”

           She pressed a finger to his lips. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I know you could take care of us, I trust you. You’ve earned my trust and I know we’ll be able to keep that as we create a life together.” Her voice was breathless with excitement. It was surreal to imagine Inglewood full of life again. Not the hollow, stone building that had been drained of the love it once held. But a child, maybe even more than one, running around the home and playing in the yard. A little boy or girl with Alfie’s beautiful blue eyes. She could easily picture the smile on her fiancée’s face as he picked up a little child that so closely resembled him.

           It nearly brought tears to Louise’s eyes. “I can’t wait for forever with you.” She whispered and took his face in her hands to kiss him.

           Alfie wrapped his arms around her, letting her take his breath away like she had done many times before.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie stayed the night in Inglewood. Louise fell right to sleep but he was restless. The silence of the countryside was bothering him and his own thoughts were much too loud.

           So, he decided to take a lap around the home just to clear his head. He cursed the draft in the large halls and crossed his arms over his chest. The stairs creaked under him as he made his way downstairs. He passed through the foyer and wove through the parlor, the dining room, the front hall, and to the office.

           The large portrait of Mr. Barnes startled Alfie for a moment as he passed by the doors. He paused and decided to go in.

           Henry Barnes was a younger man when the portrait was painted. He had only just met his wife-to-be, but he was still the son of a wealthy aristocrat. He stood tall and proud like in the foyer portrait with his wife, Lily. His gentle eyes appeared to be looking down right at Alfie.

           The gangster faced the painting and took a deep breath. He felt like a Christian going into confession. “I know that…” He sighed as he realized he was talking out loud to a piece of canvas. Nevertheless, he continued on. “Maybe m’not the best for her. Could be better men out there, right, that she could be with. All I know is I would do anything to keep her safe and happy. Would fucking die for her in a heartbeat if I had to.”

           Henry didn’t move. The placid expression on his face remained just like it had for decades.

           Alfie ran a hand through his hair and nodded absent-mindedly. “Never loved anyone like I love her.” He mumbled. “Fucking hurts me chest when I think ‘bout it sometimes. Yeah, dunno if I’m enough. Or if I’ll ever be.” He swallowed hard and took a few steps back. “Fucking talking to myself.” It was enough to get the words out of his head though, and he felt a bit lighter as he left the office. No matter what insecurities he might have, he knew for damn sure he was going to marry the love of his life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           While London was swarming with whispers of Alfie’s marriage, Camden Town had its own take on the matter. Simply put, Alfie was Jewish through and through. He was raised that way and despite his criminal activity, he would stay that way. Louise was not Jewish. Baptized in the Church of England, she had lost most faith in God. As far as Jewish law was concerned, they would not be allowed to wed.

           Ever since he hit puberty, Perle would say Alfie needed to find a nice Jewish woman to marry. He never did, most fathers didn’t want their respectable daughters around the hellish Solomons boy. That didn’t bother him because he wasn’t interested in settling down. As a young man, he was more interested in laying out his empire.

           Now that he had, Alfie only had eyes for one woman. Jewish law wouldn’t’ stop him. He tended to disregard all laws except his own.

           Ollie and Alfie were inspecting areas of the bakery, making sure everything was running smoothly.

           “Ollie, mate, can I ask you something?”

           “Of course, sir.” The curly-haired man nodded. He looked up from his checklist.

           “You said you and Shayna went to temple in Hampstead? What’s the rabbi’s name?”

           Despite years working for him, Ollie was never able to guess what his boss was about to say. But they normally didn’t talk about religion. Alfie celebrated holidays typically with friends of his late mother or Ollie’s family. Camden embraced him because he gave to the Jewish community. Men tipped their hats and greeted him politely. Grandmothers often scolded him, saying he looked thin and promised to bring him heaps of food.

           But they all knew what he did and how it conflicted with their shared beliefs. A busy man, Alfie attended temple when he had the chance. He sat in the back, a silent and domineering figure.

           “Rabbi Mayer?”

           “Right, you know him well?” Alfie continued to be cryptic.

           “I suppose.” Ollie shrugged. “He married Shayna and me.” He reminded his boss who had been present.

           “Thought so.” He scratched at his beard. “You think he’d be willing to overlook a few things?”

           Well, Ollie had been asked stranger things before. “Like what?”

           “Small bits ‘n bobs. Louise’s religion mostly.” He answered casually.

           Rose had told her husband about what the other Camden women were gossiping about. How was Alfie, a Jewish gangster going to marry someone of a different faith? Certainly, no rabbi would conduct the ceremony. So would he neglect Jewish tradition? That was simply unheard of.

           “And what if they have children?” Shayna had asked, throwing her hands up in disbelief. “It’s in his family. His brother did the same thing! He had some legal ceremony and never taught his son properly. Look at Goliath now.”

           Ollie could understand his wife’s opinion. The community struggled to keep their traditions and identity. But he also knew Alfie would do as he wished. Hence, why he was asking for a rabbi who would break the rules.

           “Sir, I’m not sure-”

           “Look, I fucking know.” Alfie cut him off. “Not s’posed to do this but I ain’t going back on what I said. I’m marrying her.” His tone was firm and unyielding.

           “Sir, even if he does marry you, everyone will know.” His assistant pointed out.

           He grimaced. “Fucking gossips.” He grumbled under his breath. “Fuck it. You go to the rabbi, yeah, and let him name his price. If not, I’ll do it me own way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Louise was back in Camden that same night. She was getting dressed for bed when Alfie arrived home. He entered the room with a smile.

           “Love that color on you.” He admired the indigo nightgown she was wearing. It was one of many that Alfie had shipped in from Paris.

           Louise smiled. “You say that no matter what I’m wearing.” She sat at the vanity to carefully undo the pins from her hair.

           “Well, then.” He chuckled and stood behind her to rest his hands on her shoulders. “Maybe that’s ‘cause you’re beautiful in everything.” He murmured. “Also beautiful with nothing on too.” He touched his lips to her neck.

           Louise rested a hand over his. She nuzzled his cheek lovingly. “How was your day?”

           “Fine, nothing to write home ‘bout.” Alfie shrugged. He drew away and sat on the bed to remove his boots. Cyril curled up by his feet begging for a pat. He obliged, scratching behind the bullmastiff’s ears.

           “Evelyn was talking to me about the wedding.” She informed him.

           “Yeah?”

           “Telling me about Jewish traditions.” Louise turned on the vanity seat to face him. “We can’t be married by a rabbi, can we?” Guilt hinted at her features.

           “Well…” Alfie rubbed the back of his neck. “Not too sure yet.” He admitted.

           She played with her engagement ring, circling the band around her finger. “Maybe I could convert, that way we won’t be breaking tradition. I don’t want people looking at you badly because you’re marrying me.”

           Alfie frowned. “Lou, we just discussed this. I ain’t gonna make you change who you are for me.” He held his arms out for her.

           She gladly curled up on his lap. His arms cradling her close and keeping her safe. She rested her cheek on his shoulder.

           “I’m marrying you whether anyone likes it or not, yeah?” He kissed her hair. “Our wedding, our relationships, s’none of anyone else’s fucking business. If you want Jewish traditions then we’ll do them. Don’t fucking care if a rabbi’s there or not. Only care that you are.”

           Louise frowned and chewed on her lower lip. “But your family…” Alfie came from hardship. Most of his family had been killed because of their religion. Perle had fought against all odds to deliver her sons to safety and provide for them. She raised them in a Jewish community to keep the culture alive even if they weren’t in their homeland.

           “Lou, me mum only wanted me to be happy.” He assured her softly. “She probably would give me hell for it but at the end of the day, yeah, you make me smile. Not a lot of people can do that.”

           She gently touched the corner of his mouth. “I want you to be happy.” Her eyes locked on his. “Whatever makes you happiest.”

           Alfie could appreciate where he’d come from. He couldn’t neglect his past and what it took for him to get to the place he was. But of all the ways he had sinned, he decided that marrying Louise would be the least damning. “You make me the happiest.” He murmured and traced his thumb over her cheek. Her skin was warm, a faint blush forming under his touch. He briefly thought back to his monologue in front of her father’s portrait. “D’you ever get that feeling when your chest, right, when you love someone? S’like…” He scrunched up his nose in thought.

           “It’s some sort of ache?” She suggested because she knew exactly what he was talking about. Her hand pressed to his chest, right above his heart. “It hurts because you had no idea you had the capacity to love someone so much.”

           He nodded and let out a small laugh of fright. “Fucking afraid m’gonna wake up tomorrow and you’ll just be a dream.”

           “One day you’re going to wake up in Inglewood, next to your wife.” She lovingly rubbed circles over his shoulders and the back of his neck where he held all his stress. His tense muscles started to relax after a bit of coaxing. “Your son or daughter will run into the room to wake you up and beg for you to come and play with them.”

           He closed his eyes for a moment to picture the scene she was painting for him. “Sounds too good to be true.”

           “It isn’t. Because you deserve peace and happiness, Alfie Solomons.”

           He opened his eyes to find her looking earnestly at him. He tilted his head to the side and grumbled in protest. But he couldn’t argue with her. She held firm to her beliefs. “And that’s why no one can say anything ‘bout us getting married. ‘Cause you’re fucking perfect, ain’t ya? I’m going to marry you and our wedding, yeah, we’re doing it our way.”

           She cuddled close to him. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, Captain Solomons.” She teased softly and tucked into the crook of his neck.

           He chuckled and rested back into the pillows. “Go to sleep, love, we’ve got lots to do tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Evelyn was thrilled. Life seemed to be going so well for her and everyone she loved. Alfie and Louise were getting married, it was about time, and they had given her a hefty raise to come work at Inglewood every other week. She adored being in the countryside but she could still go back to Camden to see Ishmael. The young man's face always lit up when she came back. He'd tell her how much he missed her and asked when they could see each other again. Things just seemed to be going so well. She was completely oblivious to the threat that Alfie and Louise were well aware of.

         That weekend, Evelyn was accompanying Louise to try on her wedding dress one last time and make sure everything fit. They were only going down the street, but Alfie insisted Ishmael and another young man go with them along with Cyril.

           “We’re not going downtown, we’re going to Nessa’s.” Louise told her fiancee, as he was busy sorting through shipment papers.

           “I know, I put a call into her this morning.” He didn’t look up from his work, his blue eyes peering from behind his glasses at Ollie’s slanted handwriting.

           “So I don’t need Ishmael and Nathan to come with us.” She said and knelt down to clip the leather lead to Cyril’s collar. Of course, she wouldn’t argue against taking him along. The mastiff’s tail wagged wildly, thumping against Alfie’s desk.

           “I’ll just be a block away, Evelyn and I don’t need to be escorted.” She argued and stood up.

           Alfie paused and dropped his papers to the side and opened the top left drawer. He pulled out a telegram and handed it to her without a word.

           Uneasy, Louise took the paper from his hand and unfolded it.

Dear Mr. Solomons,

I hope to hear from you. I will be arriving in London soon. Mr. Shelby and his family have been notified.

Luca Changretta

           She swallowed and absent-mindedly folded the telegram back to its original form. Her hands trembled. “What does he mean by notified?”

           Alfie’s jaw was tight from the worry he was attempting to conceal. He reached for his empty revolver and spun the barrel a few times to keep his hands occupied. At that point, he wanted to get rid of Luca himself just so the man didn’t interfere with his life. The gangster would be damned if that Italian did anything to disrupt his wedding plans. “I contacted Tommy, they’ve all received black hands in the mail.”

           “I’m not sure I know what that means.” Of course, she could guess it was nothing friendly. Cyril sensed her anxiety and pressed against her leg and nosed at her hand. She stroked his ears a few times to try and calm herself.

           “Death threat. Changretta’s marked them as dead, all of them.” He rubbed his eyes and placed his gun down. “Lou, m’not sure what he’ll do to get me involved.” He admitted wearily. The telegram had only arrived that morning but it had already drained him of his energy. “The Shelbys are fucking scattered ‘bout and aren’t speaking to each other like fucking children.” He sighed. “I need to play me cards right.”

           Louise wasn’t sure she liked where his line of thinking was going. “You better not be thinking about helping him.” She whispered.

           He put a hand over his mouth and averted his eyes. A clear sign of deception. “Didn’t say that, did I?” He muttered.

           “You were thinking it.” She accused. “Alfie, just try and stay out of it. You don’t have to team up with the Shelbys but you can’t help to kill them!” Her hand was wrapped tightly around Cyril’s lead as she tried to steer clear of an argument with him. She couldn’t risk getting into a fight a week away from their wedding.

           “Lou, I told you it weren’t that simple.” He stood up and walked around his desk to stand in front of her. He slipped the paper out of her hand. “Yeah?”

           Louise pressed her tongue to her cheek and exhaled steadily. “What are you planning to do?” It was the same question she asked months earlier when Luca sent the first telegram. But things had advanced even though Alfie had been static.

           “Wait.” He replied. “My focus is on our wedding. Changretta ain’t here yet so there’s no need to fret. The Shelbys will get their act together once they realize what they’re fucking up against. Whatever comes our way, yeah, we’ll handle it.” He lifted her chin gently.

           “I’m worried that your judgment may be clouded if Luca threatens us.” She admitted.

           A stormy look dashed across his eyes. “Sabini would be wise to inform them of the consequences.” His voice was low with anger. Even the thought of Luca going after Louise made his blood boil.

           She sighed and touched his cheek to distract him from his obvious displeasure. “I may be naïve to a situation like this. But I urge you to talk to me about it so you don’t make any unnecessary sacrifices.”

           Alfie had a feeling that she didn’t know how much he’d be willing to sacrifice if he was forced between a rock and a hard place. “There’s a Yiddish saying, right, ‘for a little love, you pay all your life’. I can leave this be.” He gestured to the telegram still in his hand. “You’ll go back to Inglewood tonight and get ready for the wedding.”

           Indeed they had spoken about traditions and which ones Alfie wished to respect. When Louise got word of her fiancee trying to bribe Rabbi Mayer, she had to step in and stop him from extorting a man of God. After the weekend, Louise would leave Alfie behind in Camden Town and they would be apart for a week for Kabbalat Panim. Now that she knew about Luca’s message, she was hesitant to leave just in case Alfie decided to make a move without telling her.

           “And what will you do?” She inquired.

           “Nothing.” He tossed the telegram onto his desk. “Just keep listening for news and stay neutral. Focus is on you, love.” He promised softly. “We’ll get married and be off to Paris ‘fore you know it.”

           “What about the Shelbys?”

           “Not much I can do, can I? Fucking got themselves in this mess.” He shrugged. “Tommy clearly has a plan, don’t he?”

           She nodded slowly. There was a knock on the door and Evelyn’s voice piped up from the other side. “Louise, are you almost ready?”

           “I’ll see you tonight ‘fore you leave.” Alfie kissed her forehead. “Try not to worry too much ‘bout all this. Nothing will happen until I decide what to do.” Of course, he couldn’t promise that. He had no control over what Luca did once he crossed the Pond. He could show up at the bakery door the same day he arrived with a proposition for Alfie. And he sure as hell didn’t have any clue what Tommy was planning. To say Alfie wasn’t worried about his wedding day being ruined would be a lie. He was desperate to make Louise happy and if his dealings interfered with that, he would be upset with the perpetrators, of course, but he’d also be upset with himself. She deserved a quiet life in Surrey with her husband. But with the danger looming, Alfie could only hope that they would have an interrupted wedding. After that, he could handle the chaos. He could take care of what he needed to and take care of whoever was in his way. Whether it was Luca Changretta or Tommy Shelby.

Permanent Tag: @sansajonsastark​ @giftofdreams​

Tag list: @vehement-care​ @kimmietea​ @eleventhdoctorsangel​ @fire-treasure-iii​

Masterpost

PB Masterlist 

[chaoscheebs]

Celdic Crew Group Chat Log

So, um, look, I had the urge to type out a fake chat log for Fie, Elliot, and Machias, because they’re probably pretty tight after what happened post Cold-Steel 1/early-ish Cold Steel II.  No serious spoilers I can think of, it’s just a roller-coaster of stuff.

Tl;dr their group chats are wild.

------

Fie: you see this is why i’m the only one of us who’s touched a boob

Elliot: Didn’t Machias technically touch one too?

Machias: WHAT WHEN?!?!?

Fie: oh yeah, in the windmill.  forgot about that

Machias: WHAT I DID NOT

Fie: you were sleeping.  you called me ‘jusis’ and went in for the squeeze. honestly you were doing a pretty good job, i was almost hesitant to smack you awake

Machias: WHAT

Elliot: Man, I still get why you did that, Fie, but did you have to smack him hard enough to make him elbow ME?????

Machias: THAT WAS WHY YOU DID THAT!?!?!?!?  WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!?!?!!

Fie: didn’t seem important

Elliot: Honestly, I thought you knew you were Mr. Hands in your sleep already after all the times *I* elbowed you awake too.

Machias: NO I DID NOT YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!!!!  I WOULD HAVE SLEPT FURTHER FROM YOU IF YOU TOLD ME!!!!!!!

Elliot: And let you freeze instead?  We knew the risks after the first night.  D|

Fie: nah he wouldn’t have frozen, it wasn’t THAT cold.  he’d COMPLAIN a lot in the morning tho

Elliot: Oh, yeah, definitely.  Especially since we didn’t have his terrifying favorite coffee blend available there.

Fie: lol yeah

Machias: MY COFFEE ISN’T TERRIFYING AND ALSO DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT

Elliot: Machias, it has a *caution label* on it to not drink more than two cups of it and you down the whole damned pitcher!  D: D: D:

Fie: it’s honestly kinda impressive, you really are unbreakable lol

Machias: CAN WE GET BACK TO THE POINT ALREADY?!?!?

Elliot: Machias, when do we ever get to the point here?

Machias: . . .  DON’T TRY TO CONFUSE ME WITH LOGIC HERE.  8T

Fie: lol

Elliot: *Anyway*, if we were really upset about it, we would’ve said something, but we knew you really missed your boyfriend, so…

Machias: HE IS NOT—I MEAN HE WAS NOT—ARGH THIS IS STILL HARD TO ADMIT NOW

Fie: that’s the other reason we didn’t say anything, you were EXTRA shouty whenever we mentioned him back then

Elliot: Truth.  You two going from *loudly* hatefucking constantly to actually admitting you *liked* each other was a long, wild ride.  A long, *LOUD* wild ride.  D|

Machias: JUSIS STILL TWITCHES HILARIOUSLY WHENEVER HE HEARS “THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO CELDIC” THANKS TO YOU TRYING TO MAKE US STOP BEING LOUD, BY THE WAY

Fie: so does alisa, she had some choice words about your angry midnight concertos too

Elliot: Oops.  She did kinda live above me, didn’t she?  I should maybe send her apology flowers someday.

Machias: THAT’D ONLY BE NICE.

Fie: i notice you’re not asking for flowers too

Machias: HONESTLY WE KINDA DESERVED IT.  ALSO IT WAS PRETTY FUNNY.  SERIOUSLY, SOME STREET MUSICIAN WAS PLAYING IT ON OUR LAST, ER, MEETING AND YOU COULD FEEL THE BARELY REPRESSED ANGER COMING OFF OF HIM, LOL.

Fie: lol

Elliot: Lol.

Fie: so did rean ever realize you weren’t playing unsexy violin ditties because you just love music that much?

Elliot: Not on his own, no.  Emma and I ended up talking to him about several things he was, um, overlooking waaaaaaaaaaaaay back before that school festival at the academy.

Machias: OVERLOOKING, MY BUTT, HE HAD TO BE WILLFULLY IGNORANT AT THAT POINT.  I’M PRETTY SURE EVEN MILLIUM HAD IT FIGURED OUT AT A GLANCE, HOW DID EVERYTHING AROUND HIM FLY OVER HIS HEAD THAT MUCH

Fie: lol wow way to burn yourself man

Machias: IN MY DEFENSE I’M ALSO BURNING JUSIS AT THE SAME TIME, WE WERE COMPLETE GARBAGE HIDING ANYTHING AND WE ALL KNOW IT.

Fie: true, lol

Elliot: Also in his defense, I was also talking about all the *other* stuff that flew right over his head.  Like the fact he kept taking me to *date spots* and also apparently witnessed Laura’s love confession to you, Fie, and completely didn’t notice.

Fie: eh, it was laura.  it flew over her head too for a while.  good thing she’s kinda cute when she’s clueless, lol

Elliot: It’s terrifying that Machias and Jusis were the closest to having their stuff together out of all of us back then, by the way.

Fie: absolutely horrifying

Machias: HEY

Elliot: It’s kinda true.  You two were at each other’s throats for a while there, man.

Fie: and not in the kinky way

Elliot: It’s probably in the kinky way now, tho’.  XD

Fie: no doubt lol

Machias: WILL YOU TWO STOP?!?!?  BESIDES DON’T YOU TWO HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO THAN RIP ON ME????????

Elliot: Not really; my schedule’s clear today.

Fie: the better question is don’t YOU have anything better to do than stay here and get dunked on

Machias: . . . NOT REALLY I’M WAITING ON JUSIS’S TRAIN TO COME IN

Elliot: Well, there you go.

Fie: aww, you have plans then?

Machias: NOT ANYTHING MAJOR, HE’S COMING IN ON BUSINESS AND I THOUGHT WE COULD AT LEAST SQUEEZE IN LUNCH TOGETHER BETWEEN THAT

Elliot: “Lunch.”

Fie: ‘lunch’

Machias: OH GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER

Elliot: So you’re not planning on finding a closet to fool around in, then~?  ;)

Machias: . . . . . . . . . SHUT UP

Fie: this is text

Machias: YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!!!!  AND HONESTLY, FOR SOMEONE WHO KEEPS TALKING SHIT ABOUT ME BEING A HORNBALL, YOU’RE THE ONE WHO ALWAYS KEPT FINDING SOME DOROTHEE-LEVEL GAY SMUT, ELLIOT

Fie: it’s always the cute, quiet ones lololol

Elliot: Hey, Dorothee knew where it was at, guys; you’re all just mean.  :(

Machias: IT ALWAYS SURPRISED ME HOW SHE GOT AWAY WITH AS MUCH AS SHE DID WITH THOSE BOOKS

Elliot: Eh, when it sticks to just text, it’s hard to tell at a glance if it’s “clean” or not without reading the whole thing, and teachers don’t have time for that.  Thank Aidios for exploitable loopholes!

Machias: DIDN’T PROTECT ME WHEN YOU GAVE SOME “LITERATURE” TO READ.  8|

Elliot: That’s because it had illustrations; it’s hard *not* to notice when there’s pages like that.  Quality art, tho’.

Machias: . . . IT KINDA WAS

Fie: ok, first what book is this, and second why didn’t you share with me

Elliot: Because it got confiscated way back when.  It’s out of print now too to boot, dammit.  :( :( :(

Machias: RIP IN PIECES, LOVE’S FIRST BITE, PEPPERONY AND CHEASE

Fie: what

Elliot: Machias, get off the orbal net, we’re worried about you.

Machias: ORBAL NET MEMES ARE THE WAY OF THE FUTURE, DAMN IT

Fie: neeeeeeeeeeeeerd

Elliot: Turbo-nerd.

Fie: lord nerdlinger regnitz-albarea of the nerdlinger province

Machias: DAMN IT DON’T START MARRYING ME OFF WE’RE NOT AT THAT POINT YET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Elliot: Too late, we’ve called Gaius, he’s gonna officiate the marriage.

Fie: he said ‘fucking finally, next we have to get rean and elliot to be a thing’

Elliot: FIE!!

Machias: HA

Fie: it’s true tho, you need to go kiss your husband already, elliot

Machias: SERIOUSLY, I NEVER UNDERSTOOD WHY YOU TWO NEVER ENDED UP A THING, YOU TWO WERE SUPER-CLOSE EVEN BACK AT THE ACADEMY

Elliot: Rean’s not interested.  End of story.

Fie: did you ask him?

Elliot: Don’t need to.  If he couldn’t tell I was flirting with him, or notice where exactly he kept taking me, he clearly wasn’t into me like that.  End.  Of.  Story.

Machias: ELLIOT, WE HAVE ESTABLISHED REAN IS A HUGE DUMBASS IN THIS AREA.  ASK HIM.

Elliot: I.  Said.  End.  Of.  Story.

Fie: ouch, we found a sore spot  :c

Elliot: Look, I just… I don’t really want to talk about this, OK?  Rean’s never seemed super-interested in… anyone, really, and I doubt I’m magically going to be the exception, and I accept that.

Machias: . . . . . . . . .

Fie: …………………………………

Machias: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Elliot: … you really want to say something, don’t you.

Fie: not saying a word

Machias: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . OK LOOK

Fie: oh boy

Machias: I’D ARGUE YOU’RE THE ONLY PERSON HE’S SHOWN ANY SERIOUS INTEREST IN, ELLIOT.  HE TOOK ***ME*** TO THAT DUMB ROSE GARDEN THING FIRST AND I TOLD HIM IT WAS MORE A COUPLE’S THING AND HE STILL TOOK ***YOU*** THERE TOO.  REAN IS AN AWKWARD ***DUMBASS*** ABOUT THIS STUFF, ***ASK HIM***

Elliot: Machias…

Machias: BE DIRECT AND ASK HIM OUT.  IF HE SAYS NO, HE REALLY ISN’T INTERESTED, OK, FINE, GIVE UP THEN.  BUT DON’T GIVE UP BEFORE YOU REALLY TRY!!!!

Elliot: … ha.  Man, you really can’t stop yourself from talking, huh?

Machias: HEY, I MIGHT BE A DUMBASS ABOUT THIS KINDA THING TOO, BUT I’M A DUMBASS IN A STEADY RELATIONSHIP.  I KNOW THINGS SOMETIMES.

Fie: i can’t believe i’m agreeing with him, but for once, he has a point.  do the thing, go get you your man

Elliot: Fie…  Man, you guys…

Machias: DAMN, I THINK THAT’S JUSIS’S TRAIN.  SEE YOU LATER, GUYS.

Fie: have fun on your ‘lunch date’

Machias: OH DON’T START

Elliot: Yeah, later, Machias.  Um… thanks for caring?

Machias: THANK ME ONCE YOU’VE GOTTEN YOURSELF YOUR BOYFRIEND.  BYE!!

[MACHIAS has left the room]

Elliot: … he really doesn’t understand how severe that sounds at all, does he.

Fie: nope

[fallen029]

Last Month: Ice Skates and Late Dates

There were a lot of things that Laxus didn't like about winter.

It was cold. Too cold. It snowed. Too much snow. Which was wet. And got everywhere. And it meant that he had to buy firewood, for the fireplace, and make sure that the front walk was shoveled and forbid it iced.

He hated when it iced.

Then there was the fact that everyone got a bit of cabin fever, when it snowed so much people were trapped inside too often and why was it, huh, that his wife's dorky siblings and his only friends all seemed to think that his house was the place to escape the frigid night air?

And don't forget the snowmen.

Those wretched, hell-bound beasts.

He thought he hated snowmen most of all.

Still, it seemed to be Lana, his little baby demon dragon, favorite time of the year, so he had to grin and bear it. She liked it even more as she aged out of just playing in the front yard or looking up in wonder at the lights hung from neighborhood houses. No. She was now old enough to be the like the big kids, she insisted to her father one day when she spied them at the park, over on the frozen pond, and wanted to ice skate too.

"Ice skatin', huh?" Bickslow hummed when Laxus approached him with this the next day.

Lana was spending the day with her Uncle Elf, but most the rest of their family was up at the hall. Laxus' wife, Mirajane, was very busy with her Master duties and her aunt Lisanna was filling in at the bar, hoping to pick up some easy, extra jewels for the upcoming Winter Festival. The others in their little group, the Thunder Legion, were sitting around their table, Freed commenting on a job before, but stopping when Laxus made Lana's new desires clear.

She was the only baby any of them had. Given the fact Ever and Elfman were frequently on the outs, Freed had little desire for small children, and Bickslow and Lisanna really shouldn't be allowed near any, ever, unsupervised, this made sense. And given that Mirajane and Laxus seemed content for the time being in her being their only child, this didn't seem as if it would be changing any time soon.

This meant, however, that she was, well, more than a bit spoiled. Not just because her father seemed to bow to each and every single one of her demands (which, yeah, this was a massive problem), but also because the others had very little experience to draw from, when dealing with children, and seemed to mostly wish to keep her appeased.

Or else.

And Laxus was the or else.

So if his hatchling wanted to go ice skating, damn it, they were going ice skating.

"I can't," Evergreen told him. When this got a dark look from the slayer though, she glanced up from filing her nails to insist, "Seriously, I can't. I never learned."

"I must confess," Freed added, "that it is a skill I am lacking as well."

"What's with you guys?" the slayer complained. "How do you not know?"

"We were a bit busy in our formative years," Freed offered simply. "Surviving."

As the slayer looked off them, perhaps feeling a bit of remorse for his harsh tone, Bickslow only took to snickering. His little wooden babies began to do much the same.

"Ah, boss!" He patted at his chest then, the seith did, as his tongue tumbled from his mouth and they all got a good look at his guild marking. "I would be happy to teach the baby boss how to ice skate."

"You weren't," the slayer went right back to griping, "asked."

"You don't know how to either though, huh?" the seith asked. "Else you wouldn't have come to us, yeah? So it sounds like you need me."

"I don't need anyone."

Other than his little tiny baby demon dragon hatchling.

And yeah, the actual demon too.

"Perhaps," Freed suggested then, glancing around the table at the others, "we can make it a family affair."

"Don't have affairs with your family, dude." Bickslow's tongue slurped right back up in his mouth. "Freak."

"Wha- That is not what I meant!"

"Keep it in your pants."

"Bickslow-"

"What do you actually mean, Freed?" Ever asked with a roll of her eyes, really just wanting this conversation to die already.

After sending his friend the darkest of glares, he looked to Laxus once more before explaining, "We all lack in this category and, well, I am certain Lana will hardly be an expert on her first venture. Certainly it will make her feel better, should we all learn along side her. Right?"

"I," Ever began after the others thought on it, "can't."

But she could.

And she would.

They all would. Laxus rose then, to go see the Master and inform her of this while Lisanna, seeing him dip into the back, used this to her advantage and came over to goof off with the others rather than work. Easy jewels could be so straining sometimes.

"It's me," Laxus called out after knocking his knuckles against the heavy door of his wife's office. "Demon."

"Oh, dragon, come in, but don't let anyone else in, alright? I'm really swamped."

"Just me," he assured the woman as, upon entering, he found her desk swarmed with papers and the woman with a pair of glasses on, looking over something rather official, it seemed. At his entrance though, she only pushed them up as she looked to her husband.

"What's up?"

He came over first to give her a kiss before falling into the chair on the other side of the desk.

"Can't come check on my woman?" he questioned, but she only continued to stare at him, waiting for a true explanation. Sighing some, he added, "Lana wants to go ice skating."

"Okay," she said slowly as she blinked. "Is that…. You're not going to be weird over something like this, are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Dragon, you get weird over every new thing she does."

"Do not."

"Laxus, I'm really busy-"

"She's my only daughter," he griped. "Should I not think that each and every milestone is important and noteworthy?"

Mira only sighed at him though and, after sulking for a moment, he knew he had to continue.

"Well, I don't know to do it," he admitted to his wife then. "Ice skate. And neither does the Thunder Legion. Well, stupid Bickslow does, but who the fuck trusts him with anything?"

"Uh, I trust him with my sister."

"That's your bad judgment."

"You're talking to your master, you know."

Oh, he knew.

It had been more than a point of contention, when Mirajane captured his once attainable dream, becoming the guild master in Makarov's death, but time healed most things. That was so far behind them then. And, after seeing all the work that his fie put in, day in and out, for the guild to run smoothly, he figured he didn't even want the job.

It would eat too greatly into his dragon-hatchling time.

Plus…

He wanted Lana to see it. Her mother in that way. Not just as a barmaid, which was fine, yeah, but… Mirajane was one of the few female guild masters around, and of the top guild in all the land. He liked that. Even if he didn't always.

"Freed thinks we should all go out, together, and learn how to ice skate," he told the woman then. "With Lana. So she doesn't feel so bad, about not being great at it."

'That sounds nice."

"Yeah, I thought-"

"But I know how," his wife told him with a slight grin. "And so do Elf and Lisanna."

"Of course."

"I'm sorry. Does that ruin things for you?"

But he only shrugged a bit, Laxus did, as he said, "Better than only Bickslow. Besides, Lana will probably listen to you better."

But Mira gave him a sad look again as she said, "I'm serious about being swamped, Lax."

"It doesn't have to be today. Tomorrow-"

"I'm behind already, because people keep destroying every town they visit and I'm completely confused on how to handle what Natsu did in-"

"It's fine. Mira." He rose from his chair once more, leaning over the desk to give her one last kiss. "We'll do it without you."

"I'm sure Lana won't miss me much," she insisted to her husband and maybe not.

While the girl loved her mother, she seemed to find annoyance with her far more often than any other adult in her life. Mirajane seemed to be the disciplinarian and, while Lana respected her mother, she could find this a very annoying quality.

But Laxus had kinda wanted his wife to go. With them. Even before all the others were going to go. Especially now that they were. She'd been busy with the hall so much recently and he'd only just returned from an S-Class job and he just…

"See you at home," he offered over his shoulder, but she was already busy with her work once more.

Since the demon was out, he only had Lisanna find someone to cover for her and then they all set off, to locate Lana and Elfman. They were very busy in the park already, where Elfman was being directed by his niece (and some other random children she seemed to have made friends with) to roll them the biggest of bases for a prospective snowman. Laxus tried not to let the vain in his forehead pop right out.

It did throb though as he patted his daughter on her soft, white locks.

"C'mon," he said as the other kids seemed sad to see her (or at least her big, burly uncle who was at their whim). "We gotta go get you some ice skates, huh?"

Oh, yes. They did.

And the others as well.

It was the best trip to the market ever, Lana felt. Daddy bought her some new mittens too, as Uncle Bickslow explained she should never leave her fingers down on the pond for long, should she fall.

"Else someone might skate right over then," the acrobat warned. "And then..."

He just shook his head as he closed his hand tight, miming some severed fingers, maybe. As Lana recoiled in horror and Lisanna griped at her boyfriend, Freed only assured her that they would not allow this to happen.

"Are you gonna skate too, Daddy?" Lana asked as she held hands with him, on their walk back to the pond. "Is that how come you got skates?"

"Yep," he agreed as, the closer they got to the pond, the bigger the knot in his chest began to grow. It wasn't so much that Laxus didn't wanna skate with his daughter, but rather, it was that he'd never done it before and therefore didn't know if he'd be good at it or not.

And while he hated failure, he hated it much more when it occurred before the eyes of Lana.

As they all sat in the snow, ditching their boots for their new skates, Lisanna was quick to race Bickslow onto the ice, both finding ease in this. Lana was whining to Freed, who was lacing up her skates, to hurry because she wanted to get out there too!

"Speak," Ever sighed as she seemed rather lackluster in her effort, "for yourself."

Oh, she was.

"Here, Lana!" Bickslow, who'd been happily skating circle around those kids, those cats, out there on the big frozen pond, came rushing back over to the edge of it as he held out both hands, waiting for them to be filled with the little girl's. "I'll help ya, huh?"

Laxus very much so wanted to be the one to lead his daughter out onto the ice and help her out, but he found it to be a good thing, probably, that he wasn't as the first thing he did out on the ice was tumble back on his butt with a hard thump.

"Careful, Laxus," Elfman snickered as he skated by with the wobbly Evergreen holding tight, for once, to one of his hands. "You'll crack the ice!"

He thought he was so fucking funny. Idiot. Fucking idiot. As Laxus growled and shoved up, he looked for Freed, hoping, honestly, the other guy was having as hard a time as him. Then they could commiserate together. But somehow, even though he claimed to have never touched an ice skate in his entire life, the man was busy doing figure eights across the pond.

"It's amazing, Laxus," he called to the man as he came whizzing passed. "I must have repressed it, but yes, I recall now, my father and I, skating every winter, before I left home."

Oh, fucking great.

Laxus fell again and that was it, he was done, fuck this shit, but just as he was about to sulk away, Lisanna came skating up to him with a giggle and outstretched hands.

"Come on, big brother Laxus," she offered with a tilt of her head. "I'll help you."

"Don't need help," he grumbled, but her grin faltered then as she actually leaned down to take his hands in her own.

"Do it for Lana," she insisted as he got to his shaky feet once more. "If she ends up liking this, you'll have to do it all winter."

What horror.

And it would be fine, because Mirajane could join them, later, if he just learned (or at least became a bit more stable) now, but…

He'd just wanted the demon there.

That was all.

And it wasn't enough, her little sister being around. Her doofus brother. Their daughter, Lana. Each had a bit of the woman in them, but it just wasn't enough.

It was complicated. All of it. But he and the demon's relationship especially. Things had been a bit tense, recently, and he just kind of wanted them to do this. Together.

That was all.

But Lana only fell twice, when she tried letting go of Bickslow's hands and, as the sunset, she only let Uncle Elf carry her home, exhausted from her busy day. They were all probably going to go their separate ways, with Elfman shrugging Lana off on her father so he and Ever could go argue over where to get dinner while Bickslow and Lisanna just trailed behind the pair, hoping if they picked the right victor in the match (it was almost always the Lady of Stone), they could trick their way into a free meal. Freed was energized, however, by his discovery and was most keen to figure out what other repressed memories were lurking about.

Laxus felt like this was a bad idea (and questioned how he'd even go about that), but was too down to deal with it in that moment.

It was as they were leaving the park, however, that they ran into her. Mirajane. She seemed in a hurry too, but spotted them rather easily (they were sort of an unmistakable group) and rushed to their sides.

"Are you leaving already?" she asked with a bit of a frown.

"And never," Evergreen griped, who'd been fallen on, by Elfman, crushed, honestly, and they would be arguing over this one for weeks, "coming back!"

"It was," Elfman yelled, "an accident!"

"Men don't make accidents, I thought?" Lisanna mused. "Everything is on purpose."

"Your boyfriend fell on you on purpose, Ever," Bickslow whistled lowly. "And not even the good kind?"

Freed was not riding too high to miss that and found himself asking, and regretting while doing so, "What is the good kind?"

But as the seith opened his mouth to explain, Mirajane only shook her head.

"I rushed all the way here," she complained, just a bit, looking at her husband. "Through my paperwork. I tried really hard to… I just can't believe you guys are already-"

"Sun's going down," Bickslow said. "I can only hang around the kid during daylight."

"Why? What are you?" Freed asked, again, regretfully. "A vampire?"

"A man with a social life," the seith bristled. "Unlike some of us."

But Lisanna only hummed. "Here's an idea."

And she reached over to take Lana from Laxus then. The girl was too old to be carried, honestly, however, and was too heavy for the woman, but Lisanna just quickly pawned her right back off on Elfman.

"You and Laxus go skate. Together." Lisanna beamed at her older sister. "It's a really nice night out."

No.

No.

Laxus mood had run foul now, after falling and hurting himself, honestly, and the moment was ruined and...and…

"Someone," he muttered, "has to check on the dogs. No one's been home for hours and-"

"I'll do it," Freed offered up easily enough. "Perhaps caring for them will trigger even more memories."

And Mira had questions (a lot, actually), but Lisanna was only shooing the others along and she'd mostly wanted to skate with her daughter, honestly, but…

"It has been a long time," Mira remarked when she and the slayer found themselves alone. "Since we had a date. Lax."

She was smiling up at in, in a way she usually didn't anymore, and he could tell she was tired, he knew he was tired, but…

Well…

"Has it?" At her nod, he only let out a long sigh before saying, "Let's just walk, huh? Around the park? And maybe get something to eat after? I really don't wanna fall again. I think I bruised my-"

"The Thunder God is afraid of a little bruise?"

"It fucking hurts, Mira. And it's not like in a battle. You have no adrenaline or-"

"Then I'll just have to hold your hand." And she moved to do so then, gripping it tightly in her own. "And we'll go real slow. So you don't fall. Okay?"

"Demon-"

"Don't you trust me? Dragon?"

With his life.

Which is why he fell back into the snow, to put on his skates once more, while Mirajane only transformed into some and, when he took her hands, it felt so much warmer than with Lisanna.

So very much.

.

Full Series

[the-coolest-mallard]

Like a Kickass Guy | ASC

Louie gets high at Mei’s party and texts Nemo and Tae.

@justkeepdancing-nemo​ @moon-yeongtae​

Louie: holy shit u guyyyyyy Louie: shit has been going dowwwwwwwwn. Or upside down? down and up really lol Louie: i may not have muscles n shit but guess WHAT I DID Tae: hulked out and killed someone? Louie: woah man no! Duuuuuude have u seen me? impossible Louie: i'm too cute to go to jail yet Louie: i mean EVER Louie: im too cute to go to jail EVER Louie: did a keg stand lol. sorta Tae: whoa nice Tae: how you feelin? Louie: a m a z i n g Louie: you won't BELIEVE how good i am Louie: i felt like IRON - no. i felt like CAPTAIN AMERICA. LIKE A KICK ASS Louie: GUY Tae: nice dude i'm glad ur having fun Tae: is mark there Louie: he was here somewhere. he asked me to come Louie: dunno where he went. maybe he's with johnny idk Louie: but who cares lol Louie: i'm great Louie: no more sads Tae: wow you're really drunk huh? Louie: nooooooooooooo Louie: haha I was gonna drink Louie: but then this weird girl showed up Louie: and now i'm super

Tae: but you said you did a keg stand Tae: that's like drinking isnt it? Louie: is it? i thought it was just a hand stand on a keg lol Louie: who knows? not me Tae: i mean i guess Tae: what weird girl Louie: idk blond. weird. she wanted me to CHEAT ON MARK WTF Louie: i mean she seriously helped me out but also Louie: wtf Louie: weird. so weird. but we went to the bathroom and she Louie: gave me t his stuff n i'm like Louie: wow i mean i can't stop talking Louie: i think I've said some seriously stupid shit Tae: wait Tae: what? Louie: what? i didn't tell you anything stupid did I? Louie: i don't think i did. thank god. imaigngi f i told u that Louie: lololol i'd die forever Tae: louie what are you taking about what stuff Louie: stuff? which stuff Louie: im not tellig Tae: what did she give you Louie: ohhhhhhhhhhh Louie: oh i can tell u that haha Louie: she called it all kinds of weird stuff like snow white or whatever which is bizarre af but whatever Louie: i like sniffed it and it felt super whack Tae: LOUIE WHAT THE FUCK Louie: and then it was like Louie: wow Louie: idk man i wanted to not feel sad and i feel good now Tae: holy shit what the fuck i cannot believe Tae: louie that was so dumb Louie: you're so dumb! Louie: no that's not true Louie: you're my faovriedgof person ever Tae: where the fuck is nemo why isn't he here to tell you how stupid that was where are you Tae: you're at mei's right Louie: yeh i crashed lol Louie: well no mark and johnny wanted to crash Louie: and since mark's been cool and let me stay at his place i was like Louie: well i should probs go Tae: yeah well THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU SHOULD'VE FUCKING DONE COKE OR WHATEVER YOU DID jesus fuck Nemo: wait wtf did i just read Tae: yeah Tae: i have to go fucking get him Louie: why are you maddddd? im not bugging anyone! i'm having fun! Nemo: wait whats going on! Nemo: louie are you okay? Louie: i'm FINE Louie: i'm super Nemo: he did cocaine? Louie: super human Tae: he's at mei's party and he fucking YES Louie: you could say Louie: ughhh stop making this so big Tae: do you know how many kids my brother had to see in the hospital bc of drugs louie? Nemo: yeah that stuffs really bad Nemo: its human chemicals Nemo: do you feel okay? are you dizzy? Louie: do you know what else is bad? life. being sad. freddie mercury leaving too soon. presidents. earthquakes Nemo: louie D: Louie: tthe hunger games Tae: hey louie seriously how are you feeling like Tae: in your body Louie: that's a weird thing 2 akks dud Louie: im fine! Tae: okay but like Tae: if u close ur eyes and like idk try to feel what's happening like is your heart beating really fast? do you feel like puking? do you feel like you're moving? Louie: oh i mean yeah lol Louie: my heart is skipping faster n when i Louie: wait i gotta shut up shut up Nemo: tae yah is that bad? Nemo: would jun hyung know? Tae: i'm asking him right nwo Louie: so fussy you guys are fussy im gooood Nemo: louie just keep texting u ok Louie: look how good i am Louie: 

Nemo: very pretty Tae: yeah gorgeous how's your breathing Louie: wouldnt u like 2 kno Louie: how's your butt Louie: bet its still kicckable Tae: you have literally never kicked my ass at anything Tae: nemo does your appa know about this stuff? you probably shouldn't ask him huh? Louie: DON'T AOISFJPDOGN Nemo: its human drugs Nemo: so not really Louie: 4 THE LOV OF GOD Louie: that guy lredy probs haaaaaates me Nemo: his magic wouldnt work either i dont think Louie: im a toxin to freidn parnets Nemo: yeah if he ever finds out we woudl be banned from being in the same school i think he'd transfer me to that catholic place and appa hates catholicism Nemo: this is why you shouldnt do drugs louie :heart: dont yu wanna keep being my friend Louie: :cry: :cry: :cry: Louie: you're my best mate wgodidpsdggdfh Louie: you too tae Tae: wow rude Tae: oh okay Louie: wow Louie: dont be such a bitch tae Tae: well you started it when you did cocaine Louie: i used to think u were the coolest but maybe  im demoting u n promoing Louie: nemo Louie: nemo ur the new hottie Tae: the what Louie: what? Tae: louie i'm coming to get you Louie: whyyyyy the partys still partying Louie: ppl be FITIN Louie: man ud fit right in with your muscle bod Louie: well cept one fitghts girls Tae: where are you in the house Louie: idk the dance place. the life space Louie: where everyone is? Nemo: is jun going too? Nemo: aghaldkfjaskldfj Tae: yeah Louie: wait wait wait wait wait Nemo: ugh im sorry i cant be there Louie: where u going Nemo: louie im so sorry just keep texting us Louie: no Louie: i should dkslefadkad Tae: hey louie what's your favorite queen song Louie: skedlolde Louie: what? ohhhhh wow tough choice man i mean Louie: there are soooo many good SONGS Louie: lately i've been listening 2 somebody to love a lot cause i been dfpsogdpsjsd Louie: buuuuuut Tae: i like don't stop me now Louie: that's my OTHER FAVORITE Louie: man u vibe so well with me i hate it Louie: ha ha ha Louie: j k this is why we're bffs Nemo: hey queen was on the CD you gave me Nemo: ive been listening to it! Louie: reallyyyyy? did you like it? Louie: hey hey tae tae. taeeeeeeee. tae you should send a slefdie Louie: slefit Louie: sel fie Nemo: course! i love it Nemo: maybe i'll pick a song and choreo a dance for it Tae: you want a selfie? Louie: oooooo yes please nemo Louie: and def yes pls tae Louie: do smehthing cute Nemo [deleted]: ugh louiealkf Nemo: where's mark again? Nemo: im gonna text mark Louie: idkkkkkkk Tae: 

Louie: he went to do some stuff with johnny Louie: woahhhhhhhhh Louie: waogdisjdpsgjosg Louie: shit Tae: that's me coming to get ur dumb ass Louie: wait ur coming to get me? Louie: shit shit shit wait i gotta skedoled Louie: skedadled Tae: what? Louie: well much as i think ur great im ok Louie: also i thinkk hoooo shit Louie: gotta ifnd a window lol Tae: louie if you don't stay there i will fucking murder you Tae: i'm serious Louie: deth by tae or tdeth by uncle d when he fins out Louie: shit mn if i stay its a double featur Nemo: :/ Nemo: please louie, we're worried about you Nemo: we love you! we just want to make sure you're okay Tae: yeah Tae: you're gonna stay the night with me okay Louie: oh god Tae: it'll be great Louie: hahaahahahahahaha Louie: N E M O Louie: tell him why i suddenly Louie: sgosigdsgsdg Nemo: louie  i think you should Nemo: um drink water Louie: im good ill just find Louie: makr Louie: mark Nemo: that's also good please find mark Louie: n go to his place? Tae: what did i say Nemo: nothing he's on drugs Tae: i said stay put Louie: im really good thouuuugh Louie: n mark will look out for me Louie: marks nce Tae: well mark left u alone and you did cocaine so i mean not that that's his fault i'm just saying Nemo: ugh what if mark did cocaine Nemo: u dont think mark did cocaine did he Louie: dont blae me him 4 ME BEING ME Tae: DID MARK DO COCAINE Louie: honestly i dont dieossgodkh Louie: NO Tae: fuck Nemo: he might not have! we dont know Louie: i dont deesrve mrk naywayl ol Tae: nemo never do cocaine please Nemo: i cant see mark lee doing cocaine unless someone told him it was fun dip Louie: he n johnny were just doing fun stuff 2gether Tae: lmfao Nemo: id probably DIE if i did cocaine so dont worry ahha Nemo: big no no for fairies Louie: speaking of immenditd death Louie: we sure windows r no go Nemo: which is why u shouldnt do it solidarity c'mon louie Tae: if you aren't there when i get there i will be very upset Nemo: he will be Nemo: wont u louie Louie: im scared i dont want the lady 2 yell at me Louie: pls i wanna leave Tae: I'm almost there Louie: DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD= Louie: what if i hid in the bathroom Nemo: its gonna be okay louie :heart: Nemo: just um, sing a little queen Louie: no its not ill be ded 4ever n dragged home n stuck with my asshole fam n never escape n ded Nemo: you won't be dead you'll be safe Louie: shit someone said its the COPS Louie: im double triple dead Louie: n thats bullshit Louie: my fam isnt safe they suuuuuuuck Tae: WHERE ARE YOU Tae: fuck there are so many people Louie: trapped in the prison of xistance Louie: a house of horrs Louie: horors Tae: i'm serious louie i can't find you Louie: just make urself taller Louie: ill see you Tae: i'm gonna yell for you Louie: ok ok ok Nemo: ugh fksjf

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 40

Title & Song:  Future Starts Slow

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count:  5100+

Summary: Genevieve allows herself to be vulnerable and intimacy ensues.

Warnings/Tags: Language. FLUFF. Intimacy. Sexual content. 

**Chapter song is Future Starts Slow by The Kills.**

A/N: This is my favorite thing I’ve written so far. <3 

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist. (Includes Parts 1-39)

You had been excited a mere hour and a half ago, but now you were standing in the corner, arms crossed across your chest with your lip between your teeth. Since when did you feel lonely? And in a room full of people? You chew your cheek and wonder if you're just moody from whichever point in your cycle you're in. You thought that maybe getting out by yourself, mixing among the socialites and upper class might make you feel empowered. You'd gotten all tarted up for no one but yourself and as soon as you'd started a conversation with the other party goers you'd had to hold in your heavy sighs at their words.

The women's heads seemed full of air, only gossiping about other people, nothing of any weight to be said. The men's pick up lines were atrocious and some downright nasty, uninspired and delivered with zero charisma. You find yourself unamused and uninspired and not wanting to be there. So you stare into the tower of delicately balanced champagne flutes, sigh after sigh, disappointing conversation to disappointing conversation, and you place the glass back down on the table. You hear a loud booming laugh of a man, swinging your head to see, your brain telling you it might be Alfie, but alas, it's not.

You tuck your purse under your arm and head for the door. You find yourself for the first time leaving a party early and being happy about it. You're already relieved as you slide into your car, you lie back your head and realize the best conversation you could be filling your time with would be at home, so that's where you'd rather be.

Alfie's nose is in a book, little gold glasses atop it as it twitches, his eyes blinking as he hears your car coming up the lane. He'd expected you to be out all night, you'd been so excited about the party earlier he found it strange behavior. He knew if anything was wrong that you'd come and tell him, so he chooses to continue reading and be patient.

Your feet aren't light as you walk into the study. You spin and flop dramatically onto the couch next to Alfie, causing him to grunt and look over at you. Your shoulders are slumped, lips pouted and face annoyed.

"Somefin' wrong, luv?" he says quietly, lowering his glasses as your eyes move over to meet his.

"No." you sigh.

He lets out a huff of a laugh. "Not very convincing, that." he grins with a nod of his head at you.

"I was having a miserable time at the party. Everyone was so...boring." you say with a twist of your chin.

"Well that's high society for ya." he agrees, a small shrug of his shoulders.

"I realized I'd rather be home." one corner of your mouth pulls back in a small smile at him. "And now that I'm back I plan on washing the makeup and mediocrity off of me in a nice long bath." Your eyes move to his hair, fluffy and messy and clearly recently washed.  "I see you've already taken one tonight." Your voice sounds disappointed. This doesn't go unnoticed by him as he watches your eyelashes flutter as they move over his hair.

"Yeah, I got it over wif." His voice matches yours, soft in its delivery as he watches your face. It falls slightly, moving to your dress before you gather it in your hands to stand.

"You know where to find me if you need me, Fie." You say in an exhale, giving him a small smile as you look back at him over your shoulder before leaving the room.

So you'd rather be home with him and you'd planned on having a bath with him are the unanticipated thoughts behind his blinking eyes. He finds them fluttering like yours, and that much he'll acknowledge. But the fluttering in his stomach, and more importantly his chest that the confessions made him feel bring him to his feet without so much as a second thought as they find their way to you. ----------- Your eyes are closed, hidden by the steaming hot washcloth over your face. Your head leaned back on the edge of the tub, facing him as he quietly pads his way into the bathroom. The window is cracked only slightly, letting the sounds of the night in. You've forgone electric lights and set up candles in the room and bedroom, he'd seen you do this once before, but now he understood it as a way that you romanced yourself. You'd claimed it calmed you, saying everything looked softer, easier to deal with in candlelight. But with the sounds he'd heard you making with yourself on that night, after passing your door much later in the evening, he knew you were doing more than that with the dreamily lit environment you'd created. Perhaps he could make it so you didn't have to do any romancing or touching of yourself on your own anymore.

He watches you in silence for a few moments, the ripples across the water from your hands moving along your body, from shoulders to breasts to thighs and knees and back again. There are no bubbles to hide your feminine form from his eyes this time. The lavender he'd gotten you sits in the window alive and well, bits of it floating in the water with you. The steam rising smells lovely, just like the lavender itself, reminding him of the times he'd gotten close to you directly after a bath, that smell sticking to your skin as he got to steal small secretive sniffs of you as you got close to him. He didn't plan on sneaking any of those tonight. He yearned to press his face into your warm skin and inhale so obviously his lungs burned from the exertion. He desired to know what your pink and polished skin would feel like against his with steam still rolling off your body from the heat of the bath.

A lump builds in his throat as you move your hands to wipe the washcloth down your face, eyes moving automatically to him. You'd known he was there the whole time. Of course, you had.

"Are you going to just stand there?" you say with a soft smile, a piece of hair falling down across your face as you moved your head, the rest still piled on top in a knot.

"Seems when I come across you naked I'm compelled to silence and observation." he tilts his head slightly, an almost shy smile as he looks down at the floor.

"I'm not bothered in the slightest by your gaze. What is it, darling?" you say with a soft chuckle.

"I didn't want to interrupt your alone time, luv but I found myself wanting to be around you once you left. Seeing as I thought I'd be here alone all night and possibly nursing you and a hangover tomorrow morning, this now as a viable option seemed much more enjoyable." he grins and looks back up to you. "And seeing as those other people were such a bore I thought I might throw my hat into the ring to entertain you."

A smile blooms across your face, reaching your eyes as they crinkled at the edges. "And what is this plan of yours to entertain me?" your chin moves back and forth as you seem to glow at him, your damp skin glistening in the low light of the room.

He motions one pointed finger the tub. Your eyes follow it's direction and then swing back up to his.

"I thought you already had a bath." you say in a much quieter voice. You were hiding how your breath caught in your chest at the way he could read you. All from a glance and a fluttering of lashes that you hadn't even meant to do. He had known what you'd wanted.

"Yes but, I didn't have one with you now, did I?" the charm is back behind his eyes and smile and you succumb to it.

"I'd much prefer to have a pleasurable memory to be attached to you and baths than the current one of me being hurt." you use as an excuse, your brows raising high on your face.

"Then you don't mind if I join you?" he shakes his head, hand motioning out towards the tub in a broad gesture.

"No! Of course not!" your voice goes a little too high pitched, not hiding your happiness at his suggestions. "I'd love for you to, darling." you say, sitting up and moving to the end of the tub closest to him, forearms on the edge, water dripping off you and into the floor as you rest your chin and watch him undress.

"Good thing I'm not shy." he says with a laugh, shirt already off and fingers pulling down his pajama pants. "What with the way you stare and all." his chest keeps moving as he chuckles, eyes narrowed playfully at you.

"I like to gaze at things I find appealing, dear, you know this by now." you shake your head, sitting up to make room in the large tub, nose scrunching up at him with a smile that was entirely honest and genuine.

"Oh she's sweet talking me now, eh?" he laughs as you turn in the tub, knees to your chin as he steps in and takes his time sinking down in the steaming water. "Fucking hell, you like the water hot." he says, lip snarling slightly as he adjusts.

"It makes me feel more at home. Acclimated to my birthplace of hell." you laugh at yourself, shoulders shaking and rippling the water further.

"Mmm." he grunts, finally relaxing against the side of the tub. "I would argue but sittin' in it now it's feeling well good on my old bones so I suppose I'll agree since I too am feeling at home." he lets out a sigh and you both gaze at each other for a moment.

The room is near silent, just wind and insects muffled from outside, the lapping of the water as you moved hesitantly. Feeling oddly unsure as to how to proceed, your uncertainty sits heavy in your stomach.

He must have seen it on your face as he always does, as his deep voice breaks the silence. "C'mere, luv." he gives a subtle gesture with his hand. You give a shy smile, looking down and slinking towards him.

You move to put your back to his chest, sitting forward between his legs.

"Lay back sweetheart, relax," he says softly, and you let yourself lean back against him fully, Your head falling back just near his shoulder, giving you enough room to lay it back. "It's not usually me telling you to relax." his wet fingers move your hair away from your face and neck, you could feel his breath fan across the bend of it, stretched out and vulnerable to him. "Take your deep breaths." he quietly suggests, and you obey. "I know I can't live up to your hands but I can rub your back if you'd like." he offers.

"Oh no I much prefer laying back like this." you say softly, eyes closing. "Rubbing the front is much more relaxing than rubbing my back to me." you let out a little chuckle.

"As if you would even have to ask for me to do such a thing." his voice has that delightful cheeky ring to it.

"I do mean north and not south." you let out a giggle as you move his hands to your chest, your face leaning back, hands going back to rest and you let out a noisy sigh as he starts to knead your breasts. "Much better, darling, thank you for indulging me." you say as your head snuggles back into his chest.

"More than happy to oblige." you feel the breath of his laugh over your neck. "This alright?" you feel his mouth rest on top of your head, an affection tone washing over you.

"Wonderful, as long as your touching me, really." you admit in a breathy exhale, not feeling the sexual repercussions of such touching yet. He wasn't pinching and teasing, only rolling you softly about, hands sometimes wandering up your sternum, down to your ribs and stomach, warm and wet up your neck and cupping your shoulders. Soft and lazy and exactly what you needed.

"Now then. Tell me what made you leave a party you'd been looking forward only a few short hours ago." his voice is deep and evenly paced, taking cues from the back massages you'd given him. Everything feeling easy and gentle.

"I found myself feeling out of place. The women only wanted to gossip and I suppose I needed something of more substance tonight." you say in a weaker voice, now trying to deeply relax against him. You sat across him like a throne, your hand on his thigh of the knee that was bent up, the other rests against your own.

"Mmm." he said thoughtfully. "And you don't mention the men?" he chuckles, "I know they talked to you."

You let out an amused hum and smile, watching your fingers trace back and forth on his leg. "Awful." you let out a laugh and turn your head up to look at his face. "So boring. So unoriginal. Devoid of any charm whatsoever." your face shows your mild annoyance.

"Not even a handsome one could hold your attention?" his face looking possibly slightly smug in the low light.

You laugh again. "What's handsome worth anyway?" you shrug and look back to your restless fingers.

"Well it's worth quite a lot I'd imagine." he says with humor in his voice.

"Yes but for how long?" you sigh. "When I was younger, yes. I'd find one that was easy on the eyes and with the intellect of a bucket of rocks with a hole in the bottom and never care." you give your younger self a half smile.

"And not now?"

"The older I've gotten the more complicated it's all become." you shake your head just slightly. "Before you, it'd been over two years since I'd slept with someone." he studies your face, your microexpressions as they pass over and change with the thoughts you weren't expressing. "I could work with only handsome before, but now I require things far beyond that it seems."

"Like what, luv?" he sweetly inquires.

"A trinity of physical, mental and emotional."

"A sure sign of a woman who knows her worth and what she wants." you almost purr at his praise. "It'd been over two years...really?" he says, eyes narrowing at the statement almost in disbelief as he'd seen your sexual appetite and he wasn't sure how you had gone so long without exploding into thousands of tiny, shaking pieces.

"Yes." you say certainly, a slight nod of your head.

"And why me, sweetheart?"

The question and the earnest tone catch you off guard, your eyes flutter open as you think. "Well you checked all three boxes didn't you?" you say obviously, he feels the tension leave your body as your eyes shut again.

"Did I?" he says smugly, a grin on his face you can't see.

"I wouldn't be here with you now if you didn't." you state obviously.

"If you wouldn't mind to indulge me a bit here, luv..." you can feel him swallow before he speaks. "How exactly is it that an old ruffian like me got to be so lucky as to have you approve of him?"

You weren't sure what he was looking for from you. Maybe it was genuine curiosity. But perhaps now was a good time to sort a few things out for yourself. You go back to your original approach when you were still trying to learn to trust him fully and go with honesty. "Well..." you clear your throat and open your eyes. "For physical, you didn't have to do anything. You're very handsome." you grin and look up at him again, wanting to see him as the compliments came down upon him.

"So complimentary this evening." he chuckles down at you, you reach up, water droplets plinking against his skin and down your arm as you reach up to scratch his beard.

"You said indulge you, so I suppose you want specifics?" your eyes narrow playfully at him, a warm smile on your lips.

"How could I not want to understand how your brain works, Genevieve?" he looks down at you and radiates charm.

"Let's start with this work of art that is your face." you coo at him. A smile that mirrors the warmth and fondness of your own beams down at you. "That heavy masculine brow...piercing eyes...that example of perfection that is your nose." your head shakes back and forth just slightly.

"My nose?" he lets out a laugh.

"Yes, it's brilliant, darling. Perfect planes and points. My inner artist adores your face." you can't help but laugh with him. "And don't even get me started on those plush pillows you try to pass for lips." you giggle at yourself.

"These? These lips?" he puckers them and your nose wrinkles as you laugh at his silly antics.

"Mmm Hmm." you nod, lips barely able to close from a smile.

"Mmmph. I see." he says with a furrowed brow, leaning down to kiss you.

The wet smack of your lips back and forth for just a moment is all you hear echoing in the dark room. "I'm afraid with kisses to go with your hands on my breasts you're going to get me the opposite of relaxed." you smirk at him.

"I certainly don't have a problem with that...unless you do." his lips pout just slightly in the asking of permission.

"I do not." you shake your head and bite your lip.

"Certainly such sweet honesty deserves to be rewarded, luv." he coos down at you, one hand moving down to between your legs as you let out an audible sigh.

"You know I adore your reward system." you chuckle, closing your eyes, pressing the side of your face into your shoulder, nuzzling into his chest as his fingers parted your lips, rough fingertips giving you slow drags up your clit.

"What else?" his voice rings out darker, more commanding.

"Mmmph. Okay I'll try to keep talking." you can't help the smile that blooms across your face at his playful antics. "We were on physical...handsome...yes." you nod and scratch his beard. "I'm terribly fond of your more...masculine traits. This full beard..." you let out a noise of approval. "Even if it does cover that angel face of yours, still can't find it within me to prefer you clean shaved over it. Especially when you let it get a bit wild like this." your lips curl into a smile. "The salt and pepper of it," you give the lightening bits a tug at his chin. "The way it scatters down that...thick neck of yours." you let out a breathy exhale and lick your lips, his fingertips still tapping and gently flicking, building a slow burn within you.

Getting a peak inside your head like this, and as your eyes slowly darkened at his motions and your own words, the way you were getting wet over describing him physically was making him hard. It gave him a rush of power that he hadn't known before. You were clearly enjoying whatever feelings it was giving you, even in the low light, the flames flickering and lighting you like a painting you might create, he could see the truthfulness of your words behind those big brown eyes of yours. "And you are built, cheri. Just...broad and...strong." you bite your lip to muffle a soft moan. "And your hands...ugh." you look down at your chest, feeling his chest move with a silent laugh at the roll of your eyes at him. "The rings are so sexy and those calloused fingertips and palms from work make me feel like a little sheltered French girl who's getting sexually awoken by the farmhand she's been secretly pining over." you chuckle at yourself.

He never thought he'd hear such words from you. To be able to see himself as you saw him only made him feel more powerful, more capable and dominant.

"You already know how I feel about that magnificent instrument I feel rousing against my bum right now." you grin again, eyes looking into the water at the hand moving just slightly between your legs.

"Now 'at you have praised before." he practically groans, fingers now sliding farther down, making you whimper and your chest start to heave with need as he pushed two fingers inside you.

"That curved cock of yours can press my buttons in the most sinful of ways, Fie." you whisper out, eyes closed again as you let your head fall back.

"Like 'is?" he whispers against your ear, fingers curling and holding you with a jolt that forced an involuntary noise from your lips of an obvious agreement.

"Oui." you whimper out. His fingers uncurl, going back to a slow in and out that was still making it hard for you to keep your head clear enough to carry on a conversation.

"And what's next, luv?" his voice to that delicious condescending power that made you tense around him.

"Mental." you rasp out before clearing your throat.

"Mmm. Now 'is. I'm very interested to hear." he whispers in your ear, making you bite your lip and moan softly.

"Well you do this." you let out a huff of a laugh. "It's the first thing I noticed about you. Couldn't miss it even from across the room." your head shakes as his fingers return to your clit, fingers pinching your nipple harder.

"What's that, sweetheart?" he implores further.

"That power you have. You just..." you gulp, and take a strong inhale. "It radiates off you. It's not just smart...not only clever or funny." your voice grows weaker, needier and it causes a groan to build up in his chest. "You are those but this is...different," you whine out. "Like an... undeniable charisma that forced itself in and seduced my mind."

"That is the sexiest thing you've ever said to me." his tone is exactly what you speak of. Like his words could command you to feel things you didn't want to. Things you'd fought for years against feeling, things you'd lied to yourself about existing.

"But you can be a right cheeky bastard when you want to be." your grin showed through your flushed, bitten lower lip.

"Someone's got to remind you, ya can't be in control all the time, Genevieve." you moan at the words, his fingers now harder and more insistent against your throbbing bundle of nerves.

"That's it..." you swallow noisily again. "The power I was talking about." you rasp out before you moan again.

"Oh, I know." you can feel his charming, wicked grin even though your eyes are shut and you can't see it. He was humming with power at this moment, even he could feel it and be aware of it now. Identifying the exact thing he wanted to know that made you want to submit to him. He was relieved it was something you found unique, as that assured you couldn't get it from anyone but him.

You knew what title came next. Your least favorite to talk about. But his fingers working against you were working like a truth serum as you were already a heaving chested, lusty little bird in his hands.

"And what closes this emotional trifecta for you, luv?"

How did he make you feel? You knew the answer of everything wouldn't work. You knew a lie wouldn't suffice, or possibly even come out of your mouth at this point. "You make me laugh." you whisper, eyes open but half-lidded.

He feels a motion in his chest that catches him off guard. Making you laugh was one of his favorite things. Something he'd worked at the art of all this time, as you didn't seem to care for just anyone's sense of humor, and you certainly didn't give the lusty head thrown back, hand to your chest laughs to anyone but him. Knowing it's what came to mind first touched him deeply. "I do." he answers smugly, lips against your ear as you shudder against him.

"I don't know how you do it but you can calm me...shut me down without making me hate you." your voice was sounding different, and not just because he was actively switching his fingers between circles around your clit and pressuring inside of you. "Perhaps that's also the power." you rub the side of your face into his chest, eyes squeezed shut in concentration and arousal.

"Perhaps." is all he can answer. He didn't know what he expected, but as you tended to do, you were outdoing anything he had expected to come from his antics.

"And you..." you swallow again, he feels you hesitate, feels your breath catch.

"What is it, luv?" he whispers, lips pressing against your neck and you moan at his actions.

"I feel...safe around you." your eyes open and they seem surprised by your own answer, he rewards the honesty with more curling of his fingers inside you and you cry out.

"I take that as a great compliment in our sort of life, darling." his lips continue moving across your neck, feeling your pulse jump, watching your chest move rapidly, whimpering out little moans with each time he'd press into you.

"More so..." you take a deep breath. You force it out. You do it because it's true. He wanted answers...you'd give them to him. You move your face, causing his lips to break suction from your skin. You move your hand up to the back of his head, hand trailing down the side of his neck, trembling. He meets your eyes and the fear flickers back and forth between the two of you for a moment. "I trust you." you confess. His heart races against his ribs so hard you feel it against your back.

"You..." he almost stutters and catches himself. "You trust me, luv?" It was a question and an unsure one at that. Trust wasn't something that existed in either of your lives previously. Least of all in someone who also worked in the treacherous, lying and brutal world that you two existed in.

You nod, licking your lips. "I trust you Alfie." it spills from your lips and as if he could catch it and put it back in with his own, he kisses you. "Should I?" you ask, his lips barely even parted from your own. "You aren't playing me like an instrument are you? Like you are with your fingers now?" your lips tremble, and not just because he had you on the edge of an orgasm.

The awful, wicked things you had to have been told about him. From Tommy alone, who could fill a book with all of Alfie's lies and betrayal. The other gangsters you worked with, you must know what sort of man he was. And now, looking into your deep, emotion filled eyes that desperately sought out answers he feels a shift within himself. That was the sort of man he had been. Not who he was now...not who he was with you. You claimed to be under the influence of his power but what of him with yours? Saving his life, forgiving him and taking him in and never demanding anything in return. Somewhere along this strange road that you two were walking down together he'd become loyal to you.

At first, it must've been your beauty, he thinks. Then your kindness towards him. He wasn't used to such a thing directed at him. Then your mind bewitched him, your skill and your dual nature of brutality and finesse. Somewhere between the night you first met and now...somewhere he'd been chained to you by fate and without question, and now realizing for the first time in his life...without question, he was loyal to you.

"You can trust me my love." his voice barely a whisper, a clearly honest answer you felt down into your bones. You push his head against yours again, deepening the kiss, your fingers in the strands of hair that reached past his hairline and down onto his neck.

He feels you shudder again, a whine still audible despite the way your lips locked together. He moves from your lips, to sloppily kiss your neck which you give him full access to.

"Alfie." you call out his name, his fingers back to your clit, moving fast and purposeful, wanting to make you feel as good as your confessions whispered in the dark tonight have made him feel. Your hand reaches up to clutch his that's still working against your breast. "I never thought..."  another moan wracks your body. "Never thought I'd trust a man again." you whine, thighs starting to shake. His heart drops into his guts.

"I don't say it lightly, sweetheart." his words pass through the filter of lips and tongue to your throat and shoulders. "And I mean it. Never let it be a source of worry." he rasps against your skin. "To worry about my betrayal when it comes to you is..." he sucks at your skin as your cry out for him again, your hands shaking as they hold onto him tightly as he knows you're so close. "Needless." he moans into your ear. "Pointless." he huffs out, a groan escaping his chest. "Causeless." he whispers into your shoulder as you have your final shake, your body pressed against his fully as you held you tightly, letting the water spill and splash over the edges of the tub as you writhe against him. His eyes close, the feeling of your soft flesh grinding against him makes them want to roll back in his head.

"Oh, fuck." you breathily exhale. You feel a rush you haven't before. You felt alive and energized, the quiet room falling back into place, the moans hushing for a moment as you come down. You sit up, moving to bring your chest to his as you take his face in your hands and kiss him hard. His large hands travel up your back and hold you with splayed fingers gripping against you. "Alfie..." you whisper against him, gulping and taking a sharp inhale. He pants against your mouth, eyes traveling across your glistening face, patiently awaiting your request. "Take me to bed and make love to me." you request softly. He sees your eyes soft and wanting, focusing on his features that you'd confessed your fondness for.

"Anything you want, Genevieve." he whispers, his hand pushes your head back down to join his, mouths lapping at each other as your weak, high pitched moans intermingle with the constriction of his arms around you, holding you as tightly as he possibly could, knowing it would never feel close enough.

Pt. 41 No One Knows

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer@cosettewinchester@lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird@cry5t4l-w4rri0r@iliveonchocolateandnetflix @jess2464@hardygal69@thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons@pootle@negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @wtf-is-wrong-with-this@shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @sxlomons @aphnxrising 

[littleoldrachel]

Next chapter is up! Read it here on ao3, or here on ff.net, or under the cut. 

100 Ways to Say I Love You Summary: In which actions speak louder than words, Sirius and Remus sort of fall in to a relationship, and even though neither of them have said those three all-important words, they both know it anyway.Or: 100 Ways to Say I Love You by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Previous |  chapter 12/100 - “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside”  Based on this post by p0ck3tf0x  Tw for mentions of negative body image, depression, anxiety, self-harm, fat-shaming, and discussions around classism. 

The thing is, when Remus said you can go, it wasn’t meant to be a permanent thing. He didn’t mean take your stuff and get out of my home, he didn’t mean you’re not welcome here anymore. But he should have realised, that with Sirius’ history, he wouldn’t have taken it any other way. Within an hour of their row (? - Remus doesn’t want to call it a row, or a conflict, or anything that suggests that things aren’t fine between them, because in doing so, it acknowledges the mishmash of hurt, anger, and embarrassment that has tangled itself in his chest), every trace of Sirius’ semi-residential status has quietly removed itself from Remus’ flat.

And Remus hates it. He hates not hearing Sirius impersonating Freddie Mercury, he hates that there are no longer toothpaste smears on the bathroom sink from where Sirius spits too enthusiastically, he hates the way that Winky mopes around the patch of sofa Sirius had made his own, pawing at the indent his perfect arse left there.

For the longest while, all Remus can do is sit on the floor in front of his sofa, Winky against his chest, too numb to even cry. His head is a tornado of emotions, and he flips between self-doubting guilt and self-righteousness anger dizzyingly fast. On the one hand, he knows he’s justified in his frustration - and the part of him that has therapy stitched in to his very core reminds him that his feelings are valid and important. Impact matters more than intent - and whilst he doesn’t doubt that Sirius’ intentions were good (because Sirius is good - reckless and thoughtless and impatient, but fundamentally, unshakably good), it doesn’t detract from the fact that his words hurt. It hurts because Sirius should know better than to call him proud and force his ‘help’ upon him. It hurts because the implication that money and a new place to live would make all his problems disappear is fucking offensive.

It hurts because having Sirius living with him for the last couple of weeks has been so fucking domestic and lovely, and this was a just a harsh reminder of what cannot be.

(Remus has to suck in a shaky breath at this point, because, numb as he is, this wound has struck him at his centre, and it hurts).

And then there’s the other part of him - the part that is so steeped in self-loathing and depression that it will never truly be cleansed. It whispers that this was an overreaction, that it was deserved, that he’s ruined the best thing in his life - that Sirius will never come back. It murmurs that it wouldn’t be so bad to take the money and offer, that Remus has doomed himself to struggling forevermore. (It lies, Remus tells himself, though even in his head, he’s not as firm as he would like to be).

He’s itching to talk to his friends and have them validate his feelings, because if he keeps them inside his head, he is going to have a breakdown. He can already feel the ragged edges of his heart aching with every shuddering breath, and his eyes are burning with unshed tears.

But he can’t. Because Sirius will be home by now - with James and Lily, not with him, because home will never mean Remus ever again now - and Sirius will need them both. And… if he’s being really honest with himself, he’s afraid of what calling them might mean;

James doesn’t do sides, but if he did, Remus knows he would always choose Sirius in a heartbeat. The two of them are closer than brothers, and matter more to each other than almost anything else, and whilst Lily is more likely to be neutral, Remus cannot pit her against her best friend and fiance - not for his sake, it’s not worth it.

(He’s not worth it).

Remus jolts and realises his nails are embedded in his palms - the stinging pain in his hands is real, and he stares at the way blood oozes from the marks. It scares him how much Sirius means to him - it terrifies him that he’s so quickly reverted to old coping mechanisms, and it’s this unbridled panic that makes him finally move.

He needs to get out - and not in the sense those words would have meant a couple of months ago, he just needs some time out. Running away from his problems hasn’t always helped in the past, but the thought of staying here, and having to deal with the fallout of his and Sirius’ relationship, of having to explain himself to every one of his friends, of having to explore with his therapist why this hurts so much - he can’t.

And so, he won’t.

Winky blinks dopily at him, then tucks herself back into his stomach, and he makes a rare, spur-of-the-moment decision.

He’s going home.

(If you can call a place that made you despise everything about yourself, that tore you down with every millimetre you grew, that taught you that you were wrong and worthless and - if you can call a place like that home).

The following morning finds him at the train station, an over-priced ticket in his pocket and a dreadful heaviness in his heart. He’s thrown things together in a rucksack without really thinking - which is how he later ends up with twelve pairs of socks but no underwear - and he rang his mother on the way to the train. She had done her best to hide her surprise beneath a layer of genuine pleasure, but Remus knows there’ll be prying questions when he arrives.

(He’s weirdly okay with that - perhaps by then, his heart will have finished gouging scars in his chest).

And so, he avoids the calls from his friends, cancels on his therapist, pointedly doesn’t look at Sirius’ Snapchat story, and clambers aboard the train that will take him to the place he once thought he’d never escape. The journey is appalling - as all trains outside of London are - and it’s early evening before he finally arrives.

His father stands on the platform, a tall, thin man leaning on a stick and squinting at every passenger who exits the train. When he claps his eyes on Remus, he hobbles towards him as fast as his knees will allow.

“Ahuv, Remus!”

“Shalom, papa,” Remus returns, allowing himself to be clasped tightly in a warm embrace. Despite the rockiness of their relationship, the comfort this contact gives him almost brings tears to his eyes, and he has to swallow hard against his father’s shoulder to hide it.

“You look tired,” Lyall says, almost accusatory, and Remus waves a hand.

“Work. Delays. London stuff,” he says, “is mama at home?”

Lyall frowns at the change of subject, but allows it, attempting to take Remus’ backpack as they make their way to the car park. “No, we are collecting her from work on the way home. She is very happy you are here.”

“I’m happy to be here,” Remus says, internally wincing at how bad of a liar he is.

“Nobody is happy to be here, Remus. This is the place people come to die.”

“Papa.”

“Hush now.” His parents’ car is almost as battered as his own, and it takes three attempts before it sputters into life, but his father pats the dashboard affectionately anyway. “Tell me about your work.”

Remus shifts uncomfortably. “There’s not a whole lot to tell,” he says, and at his father’s noise of displeasure, he begins a halting update on the publishing company and its struggle in the digital age. By the time they’ve reached his mother’s place of work - a hotel on the outskirts of town - Remus is cringing from the weight of his father’s disappointment at his lack of anything - no success, no promotion, no clue what he’s doing with his life.

(Perhaps this was a mistake).

(But then his mother arrives and hugs him so warmly and tightly that he can’t stop the tears from leaking out this time).

Her chatter fills the journey back to his parent’s tiny house, and continues on into dinner. Remus is grateful for it, because exhaustion is starting to cloud his brain, and any more interrogation about his employment failures will lead to an actual breakdown. Instead, he soaks up the unchanged-ness of his childhood home and tries to pay attention to all of the gossip about people he used to know like his own family.

(He hopes that his father’s mention of the girl he’d briefly dated in secondary school was out of humour and not hopefulness, but the glint in Lyall’s eyes makes his heart sink).

The nostalgia here is suffocating - as he lies in a bed too small for his frame, and stares up at a ceiling that’s still covered with posters of animals, he struggles with the memories of the depression that had almost taken control of him as a teenager. He remembers avoiding looking at his body and the way it bulged when stepping from the shower, and how unhappy it made him to catch sight of his reflection. He remembers spending hour after hour either crippled with a darkness so all-encompassing, it pinned him in bed, or a panic so overwhelming, it was all he could do to lie as still as possible. He remembers picking apart razors and playing with lighters and sharpening shards of glass with the sole intention of destroying himself.

They aren’t good thoughts.

(But it’s not Sirius and how everything is ruined between them. It’s something altogether different and darker, but it sucks him into a restless sleep far more effectively than recent events could).

He deliberately hadn’t bought a return ticket - partially because he hadn’t felt able to make that sort of decision, and partially because his bank account wouldn’t stretch that far - and so, he doesn’t even think about going back. He spends his days wandering streets he used to know like the back of his hand, helping around the house with cleaning, and exploring the tracks into fields and forests at the edge of the town. Most of the time, he’s alone, but as long as he keeps himself busy, he’s fine - he can handle this.

He knows his parents are worried about him - they discuss him in hushed voices when they think he’s not listening, and he pretends not to notice the concerned looks they give him. His friends are worried too, and it’s this that reassures the tiny part of him that feared their rejection.

Look, he knows he can’t stay here forever - he can’t even stay here long at all, given the fact he’s supposed to be at work - but right now, it’s where he needs to be.

Alice: Is this you having a breakdown?

Remus: Nah, just needed some time out.

Alice: From ???

Alice: From Sirius?

Alice: Bc I swear, if /he’s/ the reason you’ve run off back to the place that nearly killed you, imma kill him.

Remus: It’s not like that Al

Remus: I swear, no killing necessary

Alice: Are you okay?

Alice: Like honestly?

Remus: Yeah

Remus: At least, I will be. I needed this.

Remus: It’s complicated. But I’ll explain when I’m back.

Alice: You are coming back, then?

Remus: ???

Remus: Of course??

Alice: Just checking

Alice: Love you [purple heart emojis]

Remus: [purple heart emojis]

James: i don’t like thinking of you being back there but i will accept that you’re doing what’s right for you

James: just know that i’m here when you’re ready to talk, k?

James: love you so much [sparkly heart emojis]

Remus: Thanks Prongs [sparkly heart emojis]

Lily: i miss u, when r u comin home?

Remus: Idk yet, but I miss you too [red heart emojis]

Lily: [sad face emoji, broken heart emoji, red heart emoji]

Sirius: can we talk pls?

“Don’t forget your drugs, hamud.”

“Aren’t I a little old to be your hamud, mama?” Remus looks up from his bowl of porridge with a wry smile, the endearment warming his heart.

Hope looks affronted, clasping a dramatic hand to her bosom. “Nonsense,” she says briskly, “you are always my hamud, Remus. In fact, here.” She whips his bowl away, deftly tips the bottle of golden syrup upside down and liberally sweeps it across the surface. When she returns it, she’s grinning mischievously, and Remus can’t help the chuckle that bursts out of him at the smiley face dribbled over the oats. “When you were little, you wouldn’t eat your breakfast without this,” Hope says fondly, and Remus smiles too as he’s tugged into the memory.

“And when you were in hospital, papa went out of his mind trying to get me to eat,” he says, spooning up a mouthful of pure syrup. “Because he didn’t know that I had your sweet tooth.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, ahuv,” Hope chides him, but she’s still smiling. In the weak morning sunlight, the rays catch the strands of her hair that are turning silver, and dance over the crinkles about her eyes. Remus deliberately doesn’t think about the way her eyes strain to read the papers, or how stiff she rises from prayers, because thinking about her ageing sends him on a downwards spiral into thinking about death and the anxiety that gives him is not something he ever wants her to witness.

Remus swallows and takes another bite. Hope sips at her tea, and the morning is quiet and still for a while as they sit with their thoughts.

Eventually, Hope clears her throat. “It’s not that I don’t love having you here,” she begins, and Remus’ heart sinks at what must be coming next, “but I am worried about you being here.”

“You don’t need to worry, I’m fine,” Remus says automatically, and Hope tsks loudly.

“It is an insult to me as your mother that you expect me to believe that.” Remus lowers his spoon, ready to apologise, but Hope continues. “It’s my job to worry about you, ahuv. And it doesn’t take much to work out that something’s upsetting you.”

Remus hesitates, because whilst he and his mother are both trying this openness and honesty thing, there’s a large part of him that still feels he has to shield the ugly parts of himself from her, that doesn’t want to burden her with his messy problems. In that pause, Hope reaches a hand out towards him, and links their fingers together.

“Talk to your mama, Remus.”

Remus sighs. “It’s - it’s complicated. I - sort of argued with Sirius. And I’m really pissed at him, but I still l - he’s still my friend, and I… I guess I’m just disappointed.”

“What did you argue about?” Hope’s tone is neutral, but when Remus raises his eyes to hers, the care in them is so much that a lump rises in his throat.

“He… well, I told you about his Uncle Alphard.”

“Yes, yes, the reason you didn’t come to Hanukkah.”

“When he died,” Remus says slowly, “he left Sirius his money. A lot of money. And Sirius - he said he’d give me half of it.”

There’s a pause. Hope’s eyebrows have climbed to her hairline, and then she repeats incredulously, “he’d give you half?”

Remus pushes himself from the table and begins to pace, unable to control the irritation that is thrumming through his limbs.

“It’s like he thinks he can just throw money at a situation and magically make it better? Like I don’t know that my flat is terrible. And he comes along with his millions and says he’ll move us somewhere better and I’m just supposed to click my heels and snap to it? Like I’m some fu- some charity case.”

Hope stares down into her mug. When she speaks, she sounds tired - more tired than Remus has ever heard, “when someone is born with that level of privilege, it takes a long time for them to unlearn it. I’m not -” she raises her hands placatingly when Remus makes to protest. “I’m not trying to excuse him. He should know better. And that he doesn’t is exhausting for us working-class folks.”

“I’m just tired of it. I’m tired of having to save everything I can and watch them spend the equivalent of my rent on a shopping spree. And I know they don’t even mean to be dicks about it, but that sort of makes it worse, because they’re so used to their entitlement that they don’t have to think about it.”

Hope lets him rant - perhaps it’s because she can tell he needs to let this out to someone who understands, perhaps it’s because she uses his frustration to fuel her own anger, perhaps it’s because she loves him and she’s his mother. Either way, she makes an encouraging noise to continue, and suddenly, it’s like every ache of growing up in poverty is exploding out of him:

“They’ve never understood it - not really. James and Sirius both come from private school, six-car, four-house families. At uni, I had to teach them how to do their laundry, because they have people to do that for them. They didn’t understand why I had to have two jobs to cover uni. They don’t understand how privileged they are that their parents paid for their accommodation and tuition fees and everything they asked for. They don’t understand what it’s like to have to learn to drive illegally in your cousin’s stolen car because their daddies bought them their own when they turned seventeen.”

Remus leans against the table, hands clenching its surface so tightly he can feel the splinters embedding themselves in his palms. “And even the others are too middle class to get it - Lily went abroad every year for holidays, and Frank and Pete sort of get it but they’ve never struggled for money for meals or had to watch their parents go to bed hungry so that they could eat.” He meets his mother’s eyes and the understanding in them draws him back to his seat with a sigh. “And I'm glad they've not had those experiences… I’m just tired.”

“I’m sorry, ahava shelli,” Hope says after a while, once it becomes clear that Remus has run out of steam. There’s little else that can be said, and Remus continues to stew in his hurt frustration, the pleasant feeling from before entirely dissipated. He glares at the smiley face in his bowl - though its smile has turned into a grim slash by now.

The silence stretches for a long while, and Remus can tell Hope’s building up to something, because the anticipation makes his stomach squirm unpleasantly.

“You know that Sirius didn’t mean this maliciously,” Hope says carefully, and Remus opens his mouth to protest - because sure, but? Not the point? But Hope quickly continues, “I’m not saying to forgive him immediately. Because he needs to learn to be better. Not just for your sake. But… if this boy is as good as you’ve made him sound over the years, I know he’s going to do the work. He cares too much to let this come between you. And so do you.”

“I know,” Remus says softly - this isn’t anything he hasn’t spent the last week circling back to in his head, but somehow, hearing it out loud makes something click.

(I care too much to let this come between us).

“You know why this hurts so much,” Hope murmurs, squeezing his hand gently.

Remus takes a deep breath, and it aches like pulling glass from a wound when he admits, “I’m just - I can’t help but think we’re too different sometimes. Like, even if he felt the way I do, we’re from such different lives - I have nothing to offer him that he-”

“Remus John Lupin. I did not raise you like that.” His mother’s voice is sharper than it’s been this whole conversation, and Remus starts. “Money or no money. That man would be lucky to have you. Do I make myself clear?” she says fiercely, and Remus nods meekly.

(One day, he’ll be able to believe her. One day, he’ll know his worth - he has to trust in that. For now, he’ll have to trust in the people he trusts the most).

“So, what now?” Hope says eventually, quieter and calmer than before.

“I just need him to apologise,” Remus says at last. Because if he doesn’t - then he’s not the man Remus is convinced he is, and he’s not worth the years of pining Remus has subjected himself to.

(But he will apologise, and he is worth it. Remus is certain of it).

“Have you let him?”

“I - what?”

“Have you given him the chance to apologise?” Hope says.

Remus looks at her, then down at the porridge, and bites his lip.

“I think you know what you need to do, hamud,” Hope presses the palm of a warm, weathered hand against his cheek, and leaves the room.

Travelling back to London feels bizarre - although he was free to leave his parents’ this time around, there’s a sense of lightness and freedom that accompanies him all the way down south. It’s warmer in the city, and it’s warmer in his soul - though sadly not in his flat as he re-enters, and shivers as the temperature drops a few degrees.

He can’t afford to turn the heating on, so he pulls on another woolly jumper and pretends its as good, and makes a cuppa. Once he’s settled on the sofa with a blanket about his shoulders, he pulls out his phone, and begins to respond to the piles of messages he’s left answered over the last few days.

Eventually, he comes to Sirius’, and tries to summon the same resolve he felt yesterday, in that tiny kitchen.

(It shouldn’t be so difficult to tap out such a brief response).

Remus: Yes, when?

His heart speeds up painfully when he hits send, and he clutches his phone to his chest like a teenage girl, because he likes Sirius so fucking much, no matter how problematic he is, and he’s desperate for this to work out.

His phone buzzes, and Remus jumps, immediately checking his notifications. To his… disappointment? Relief? He’s not sure how to feel - either way, it’s not Sirius.

Instead, it’s a message to the group from Kingsley, informing them all that the following evening is a Compulsory Gang Meet, to be missed under pain of death. His friends are so fucking dramatic.

Speaking of dramatics - Winky slinks into the apartment through the tiny broken windowpane, catches sight of him, and flings herself at his feet, meowing loudly. Alice has been coming and feeding her, but Remus still feels guilty that she’s been alone all week.

He snaps a selfie of her curled against his stomach, and goes to send it to Sirius - even goes as far as to tap out a how cute is your daughter??? before remembering.

(Soon, things will be normal again, and Remus can go back to pining in peace - still torturing himself with dreams that can never be, but at least he’ll be torturing himself with Sirius instead of this awful distance).

To say that things are Awkward at the pub, would be the understatement of the century - possibly even the millenia. Sirius nodded and smiled when Remus arrived - late, obviously - but they haven’t talked yet, and the only available seat was directly opposite Sirius, not exactly ideal for a deep, meaningful chat.

“Gonna go for a smoke,” Kingsley stands, waving his lighter. “Anyone coming?”

“Yep,” Frank says solemnly, pulling out his inhaler, and making to stand. Alice rolls her eyes, too used to his jokes to even muster a smile, and yanks him back down unceremoniously.

“I’ll come,” Remus says, surprising himself, because cigarette smoke makes his head hurt and stings his eyes, but he also can’t stand the unhappy tension every time his and Sirius’ eyes meet.

Kingsley’s eyes flicker knowingly towards Sirius, then back at Remus, and his smile twists into something too sympathetic for Remus to bear. “Let’s go,” Remus says hurriedly, seizing his threadbare coat from the back of his seat, and looping an arm around Kingsley’s.

Sirius suddenly stands, and the chatter of the group dies immediately, as their friends look between them. The attention makes Remus’ anxiety flare.

“Take my jacket - it’s cold outside,” Sirius says, his eyes imploring Remus to meet his gaze. Remus steadfastly looks at the floor, but takes the proffered leather jacket, sliding it around his shoulders.

He’s loathe to admit it, but it helps. It’s baggy around the shoulders and tight around his middle, effortlessly cool in a way that Remus has never been and could never be, but it takes the bite out of the wind. (And, a tiny treacherous corner of his mind whispers, it smells like Sirius - his fancy aftershave and outdoors and paints - which is possibly more comforting than any physical benefit).

Kingsley lights up a cigarette, taking a long inhale, and releasing his breath slowly, so that smoke combines with the mist it creates. He’s all long limbs and dark, glowing skin, casually sprawled against the pub wall, like something straight out of a catalogue. Remus leans beside him, and for a while, neither of them say a word.

Then -

“So. You and loverboy are in a tiff?” Kingsley’s tone is light, but he links their arms together in solidarity, which takes the sting out of loverboy.

“He’s not my loverboy.”

“Sure, and I’m a straight white boy.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “Fine. I like him-” (it’s strange how much easier that is to say out loud these days? Remus-half-a-year-ago would have a panic attack sooner than admit that) “-but it’s not like that.”

Kingsley blows a circle of smoke, and Remus is half-admiring (because Gandalf, duh?) and half-disgusted (because smoking, duh?). “What’d y’all fight about?”

Remus sighs. “Me being poor and him being rich.”

Kingsley frowns. “What, is he tryna Pretty Woman you?”

Remus laughs in spite of himself. “Something like that.”

Kingsley sighs. “Rich people, eh?”

“I know.”

“Are you gonna forgive him?”

Remus stares at him, because as if Remus has any choice in this, as if he’d let this stand between almost a decade of friendship and an unrequited crush. “Of course.”

“Does Sirius know that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard through the grapevine that he’s convinced he’s ruined everything.”

“If by grapevine, you mean you eavesdropped on him-”

“Fuck you, I have my sources,” Kingsley elbows him playfully in the ribs.

Remus laughs. “I’m waiting for an apology. But when he does, of course he’s forgiven.”

Kingsley stares at him. “If you were any more in love with him, you’d be vomiting rainbows, I hope you know how gross you’re being.”

“Wow that’s homophobic.”

“Your mum’s homophobic.”

“Not anymore.”

Kingsley cackles, stubs out his cigarette, and slings an arm around Remus. “I’ve missed you, don’t just disappear again, kay?”

“I won’t.”

Kingsley shifts from one foot to another. “Fuck, it’s cold. You coming back in?”

“In a minute. Go on without me.”

“You sure?” Kingsley frowns, but he’s only wearing a shirt, and just the sight of him is making Remus shiver.

“Go,” he urges, and Kingsley slips back inside, the door swinging shut behind him.

Remus leans back against the wall, wrapping the jacket around himself, and exhaling slowly. He can’t say that he’s altogether surprised when the door opens again, and a familiar voice says, “Moony?”

Sirius stands there, wringing his hands together, looking more nervous than Remus can bear. “Can we talk?”

“Yes,” Remus says immediately, and Sirius’ shoulders visibly relax.

“Thank you,” he says, the relief palpable, “can we…?” He gestures down the road, and Remus shrugs.

“Sure.”

Sirius smiles - hesitant and still nervous, but just as fucking cute as ever. Remus’ heart - his stupid, fucking traitorous heart - pounds a little harder at the sight of it (and wow, he’s never getting over this man).

“Let’s go.”

[happyhollow-mellowmarsh]

All That's Left || Monty || Trial 3.4 || Re: Everything

There's a creeping sensation of dread in the underbelly of Monty's throat. A furore of fragmented emotions, of frustration towards the members of the class for not being able to understand what he was going through, of rage for the fact that it changed nothing about his actions, of deep, deep regret for the bridges all burning around him and the collective pain that this trial had wrought. And of course there was himself, and an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Shame.

But instead Monty keeps his calm. Every emotion is a carefully calculated disaster just waiting to happen. He doesn't have the leeway to risk a breakdown, not right now.

"I never saw it as the right thing." He rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration, trying to piece together what part of his confession Natalie drew that from. "I've cruelly betrayed and sabotaged Khoa, re-traumatized you knowingly and then attempted to explain my crimes away as someone else's. How can anyone see that as morally righteous? I had a choice and I made it, and in the process I've burnt just about every bridge left that I can burn, but if I don't remind myself of who and what I made the choice for then to what end am I still standing here? Distant doesn't begin to describe it. The person I was six years ago before I ever met Maribelle would have abandoned her in a heartbeat if he knew he had that much baggage and responsibility. I know this because that was the person I was slipping into over the course of the motive. There wasn't any good choice for me to make, no clear path for me to take. Should I have waited and then killed Aisling, which would likely have gotten me executed anyways? Should I have just waited and pinned my hopes on someone else dying? Like what's happened right here and now? I don't even have the satisfaction of being able to seek revenge for Zoomy at this point."

And her death did make everything Monty orchestrated absolutely pointless in hindsight, but he's not about to dunk on Izumi for that. Or risk incurring the wrath of the merry band of Nico defenders by pointing it out.

"I deeply regret everything about this outcome. Fie, I'm not using my goddamn family as an excuse, just the driving motivation for why I'm still fighting to live. If beating the ever-loving shite out of me will make anything better, then please, go right ahead. But I don't want to die here. And I'm sure no one does, but everyone else has somebody willing to say that for them. Nobody's going to say that for me, and that's the bitter truth I'm facing, right here and now."

Monty looks around the courtroom, to where Kit and Tomi are huddled together. He had a point, and good lord did he hope that point was valid in this trial and now, but even then he wouldn't force Tomi to go out of his way to save Monty. His idea might only remain just an idea. Then over to Aisling and Nico. Of course she'd want to defend him, it's what he would do if he and Maribelle were in their situation. Fran, Erika and W.S. Haven and Natalie. Star and Blakeley in their own separate bubbles that he had no hope of connecting to. His eyes stray over Izumi's desk, and suddenly there's a deep vise around his heart, a deep sense of loss. Of course it would only be now that he'd admit he wanted Izumi here. Of course it'd be now that he could be honest about their friendship.

"My only defense left is the truth. And I was willing to give that up because the longer I stayed silent, the worse everyone else was starting to unravel." He exhales, shaking his head. "I wanted to hope that, by being honest with everything I've done and what I'm fighting for, that maybe it would earn me one last sliver of mercy. If that doesn't merit forgiveness, then it doesn't. I'm not fighting for myself at this point, only for the right to tell my wife in person that I've fucked up." His voice catches in his throat, and even though he swore to himself he wouldn't let emotions overtake him, it still had. "Please... vote for Khoa. I want to live. I want to make amends while I'm still alive."

[kivrin]

A friend who is a specialist in Victorian lit linked me to this and I have been reading it and drinking bourbon. Here is the liveblog stream of comments I sent her and @breadandroses42​.

"A small establishment: man-servant, cook, housemaid, and lady's maid." Oh, okay. If you only have one servant FUCK YOU, clearly. #fakeladies #totaltrashhavenoservants

I like how there are no ACTUAL INSTRUCTIONS as to how to make tea. Not even as much as for coffee. And does the water get boiled IN the dining room, or get brought up from the kitchen, in which case it's hardly going to be boiling, is it?

DUST THE DRAWING ROOM TWICE A DAY. I'm calling it: open fires are officially Not Worth It if there are any alternatives.

Servants get the same dinner every day... well, no surprise there. Though a pint of beer a day, as a woman servant, sounds pretty nice. This is 1863 so London water might not actually kill you... 

TWO KINDS OF MEAT ON EVERY DINNER MENU. How the fuck did the staff get that all hot at the same time over a wood stove?

I have some memory of reading a recipe for Eve's Pudding but I don't remember what was in it. @breadandroses42​: If you don't have a MANSERVANT you shouldn't even be READING this. @kivrin​: Well. If you don't have a manservant, are you even likely to be literate?

I am... in a weird way... heartened to see that a lady of 1863 needed "what's in season" explained to her by a friendly text. It's not just the insulated children of the late-20th-century coastal elites (i.e., me.)

My image of a dialogue between the Mr and Mrs Target Audience For This Book: "Amabel, darling, I should dearly love grouse for dinner to-morrow" "Oh, Charles, I should like nothing better than to oblige you but to-day is only the 9th August and grouse is not in season until the 12th." "FIE!' [rings bell violently] "MORE CLARET!"

HOW DOES COTTON-WOOL PREVENT DEATH BY BURNING?? This book raises as many questions as it answers!

"rub the wine-stain into hot and boiling milk and it will disappear." I QUESTION THE PHYSICS OF THIS.

What the HELL is rotten stone.

Cooks should be between 25 and 35... so I’m too old. Well, phew.

Making your own ink. THIS IS THE NINETEENTH CENTURY WHAT ARE WE SAVAGES? Also holy shit boiling 9 gallons of water that will take a fuckton of fuel right there.

I'm fascinated that the author keeps sneering at "Marthas" without giving any positive reinforcement to "Marys."