#it's gonna be hard to get the room to be one cohesive thing anyway because of the VERY BORING AND CHEAP AND *UGLY* WHITE SHELVES

[dani-ya-dig]

THOUGHTS ON THE NEW AUDIO WITH WILLIAM

If you like long ass rambles that don’t mean anything boy is this the post for you

FIRST OF ALL SAM AND DARLIN MENTIONED!!! YIPPEE!! (Deadass all I care about)

LET ME TELL YOU WHEN WILLIAM STARTED TALKING ABOUT “it’s a part of being in this clan” or whatever the fuck when he was talking to Vincent about eventually being involved in William’s whole thing of killing people I started swinging at the air.

Like yeah it is a part A PART THAT YOU DIDN’T TELL THEM ABOUT!!! Like do you think Sam and Vincent would have been a part of it from the get go if you told them it would be expected of them?!? No??? THEN YOU SHOULDN’T PUT THAT EXPECTATION ON THEM OVER A DECADE OF THEM BEING INVOLVED IN THIS SHIT. That is so fucking grimy to me and I’m genuinely pissed about it. The only thing that got me reacting that hard I swear to god.

Darlin left the room because they got too mad, very clever way of not having to involve the listener characters at all 👍 /lh (it’s not worth my energy to get too into this tbh)

To make it silly to my brain though, what I imagined what happened, is that Darlin was fucking LIVID that William had shooed off Sam like that and had to be dragged away from the scene while whisper arguing with Sam about it. Once Sam had Darlin outside they go on barely cohesive rant about how that was shitty of William and how he should have to answer to Sam the same as Vincent, and Sam just went “Go take a walk Darlin”. And on their way out they just scream “UGH!” And punch a support beam (it absolutely could be heard from inside)

Anyways, Sam was so level headed. Love him so bad. But like… we all already kind of knew what the outcome of this was going to be, I feel like. One of the first character descriptions we got of Sam was that everyone says he is a “good man” and he is. He wouldn’t want to be involved in murder point blank.

BUT the more interesting thing to think about is what Vincent is going to do here. Because like Lovely had said, they have a lot to think about. Vincent also definitely is not just chill with murder, but leaving the clan is going to be a harder decision for him than Sam because of how much closer he is to it all.

Sam has expressed on multiple occasions that, though he loves Vincent like a brother, he doesn’t feel close or tied to the rest of the clan at all, he also isn’t very comfortable in Vampire society, it’s just not him. On top of all of that, he is part of the Shaw Pack, not in just an honorary way, him being Darlin’s mate makes him pack, and he is comfortable and happy in the pack, he has found community outside of the clan.

Vincent can’t say the same. Of course he has hung out with the pack, and no doubt David would accept him and Lovely as pack in a heartbeat if it came down to it. But Vincent isn’t as close in the pack as Sam is, and I don’t even know how comfortable he would be with being a part of the Shaw pack. And he doesn’t have the issue that Sam does with the clan. He feels a part of it. It was a sense of community, a family, for him. It definitely makes the decision far more difficult than it was for Sam, where Sam asked one question got his answer and made his decision, it’s not gonna be that easy for him.

I think Vincent is seriously going to be taking Lovely’s opinion into account with this, because while him still being part of the clan doesn’t inherently mean that Lovely has to be, I don’t think he would want to bring something like that into his and Lovely’s life if they weren’t comfortable with it all.

OMG THIS IS ANOTHER ASPECT I JUST THOUGHT OF!! WHAT THE FUCK IS VINCENT GONNA DO FOR WORK IF HE LEAVES THE CLAN???? Because this is another Area where Sam doesn’t have to worry as much, because Sam lives with Darlin who… I assume has a job. Which gives Sam the options of trying to work at Shaw Security for night gigs, or trying to do something else, or just being a house husband for Darlin (which is so cute lub it so bad).

I don’t think William would ever kick Sam or Vincent out of the houses that he gave them. But housing isn’t the only issue they have to worry about?? Like even if ur undead and survive off blood, you gotta be able to buy stuff sometimes. And I don’t imagine it’s easy for a vampire to get a job. Like you either gotta work night shift or work from home I guess.

Albeit William wouldn’t inherently have to cut off Vincent from his money if he left the clan, in fact William might just try to give him money because he loves Vincent but there is a lot there, that makes things complicated.

Is Vincent going to have to sell some of his fancy ass cars???? (The realest redacted angst)

OH I GUESS BOTH OF THEM COULD STILL WORK FOR THE REALTOR BUSINESS. I don’t why I didn’t think about that. It be really awkward if they did though… ugh… I don’t like that so I’m gonna pretend it’s not even a possibility.

Also it’s at times like these I wish I knew what was up with Fred and Bright. Because I’m my mind, Bright isn’t part of the Solaire Clan. They didn’t wanna be. But I don’t know about Freddy. How would he be handling Sam leaving the clan??

UGH THOUGHTS

[hypaalicious]

Why I think Nocturne is way better than the OG Castlevania series

Sorry, when I try to shut up about this show I be like

so here’s my unsolicited, highly biased word vomit that will contain spoilers at the end (but those will be under a cut) so read at your own risk! Okay, leggo

It’s actually diverse.

One thing about high fantasy is that it’s almost always Eurocentric. Even if it’s not set in Europe, the characters are gonna inexplicably have British accents because we associate that with high fantasy. We’re gonna have European style “old” clothing choices. And if everyone isn’t white, they might as well be because they’ll only throw in a couple ambiguously brown side characters and call it a day. Or if they make a main character a POC then best believe everyone around them will be white.

Nocturne, tho? Oh, you can tell it’s made with more than just a sprinkle of representation. They didn’t just make Olrox indigenous, they tied his Aztec lineage in beautifully. Annette was a slave but it’s not flattening her character because of it. Drolta came to slay but even she has her authentic background. Which leads me to my next point!

The Black characters especially are done tastefully.

Like… don’t get me wrong. I love Isaac. He was the only reason I stayed tuned into Castlevania past season 1, LMAO! But his backstory felt like straight trauma porn cooked up by a non-Black person who wanted an excuse to see a Black man whipped for character development.

Zodwa Nyoni wrote some episodes for Nocturne and she put her FOOT in it. When it came to addressing Annette’s time as a slave, her connection to the Orisha through her bloodline… I was gobsmacked at how accurate everything was and now I know why LOL! Like, for me, it’s always gonna be hard to see slavery in fiction but I can’t say shit bad about how it was tied into everything in this show. Annette’s ancestors play such a huge part in her growth and it just warmed my heart to see a Black girl whoop some colonizer ass without it feeling hamfisted. 🥹

The token relationship is the cishet one, everyone else is gay asf

I love that trope flipped on it’s head, ngl LMAO! I, by default, HC everyone as bi anyway but MAN was it nice to see Olrox and Mizrak speedrun enemies to lovers and a hint of Drolta’s devotion/gayness to Erzsebet.

I know the majority of my fictional character thirsting leans male but don’t get it twisted; I jump for JOY for gay shit in media 😂 The only reason I don’t thirst as hard for female characters is because I prefer my men fictional but my women real.

That being said, this series sent me into bi panic and I’d like to be manhandled in a room by Drolta and Olrox.

Nocturne’s first season plays out neater than the OG’s first season.

Like… okay. My main beef with the OG series was that after they defeated Dracula, the rest of the show felt like a meandering fanfic. Sure, there were a few badass moments, but the energy kinda faltered for me and I was bored with a lot of it. I hope they don’t do the same with Nocturne; they left off at a nice cliffhanger which builds anticipation for the next season and… idk it feels more cohesive already? They coulda speedran kicking Erzsebet’s face in like the OG trio did to Dracula but I’m so glad they left us a lil something to look forward to.

Alucard’s glow up >>>>>

I’m chronically online but I’m so glad I went into this series blind because the way I GASPEDT when he showed up at the end

Like damn for the past fifty-leven years he was in that castle by himself going “do I wanna talk to Sypha and Trevor plushies again or do I wanna make myself even more of a bad bitch?” Then he chose the latter, went to the salon, got his hair bleached platinum along with some sew in extensions for volume, beat his face with Fenty, and said “sorry Drolta but there can be only one vampire baddie on this earth and hunny I’m TAKIN IT”

He looks more like his video game design this way too, which I love! I hate that he took out Cuntress McSlay tho 😔 Drolta I will always love you!!

Mmkay. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to start a cult to Olrox real quick. Erzsebet ain’t the only god walking the earth and I feel he just needs good marketing!

[mftm1987]

all-time dream peche show/set

some of y'all bless n keep u are weird enough to want this information and because i am quite literally an information professional (librarian) i spent too much time and thought on this. at least a lot of it was on the clock lmao putting this under a cut bc it goes off

a lil note

i tried to choose songs i know them to perform, which i suppose in some ways defeats the purpose of something like this lol i guess the dream part is in the production/performance. and alan still being in the band and it somehow being 1987 but they also have access to their entire back catalog. anyway! i reference a lot of mixes throughout and i don't necessarily mean they perform it exactly like that as opposed to the originally released version, more.. thats the vibe i'd want the arrangement to channel

set list

instrumental intro - painkiller (w bc/cta industrial samples. basically would love to see alan get his grubby rat claws on this one)

first quarter: classic pechay mold - walking in my shoes (anandamidic mix) - policy of truth (think the way dave’s busting this out on mm tour is maybe its platonic ideal) - stripped (highland mix + 101 rlly going off with the giant sound pads)

second quarter: we r grooving - halo (no notes whatsoever. a setlist with express purpose of GROOVE and i could take lessons) - mercy in you (devotional. the way it’s a gospel disco hit in 1996..if you come up w a better way to arrange this lmk) - in your room (album version obv + apex mix as the outro which litr samples judas/leads into)

martin songs: wanna see that man suffering and healed - judas (grooving outro fucking required this is my huge and glaring shade on devotional lol) - home (alan could have fun w this one i think) - strangelove (starts w mm tour acoustic mart + finishes with full backing n shared lead)

third quarter: let’s have some fun! - shake the disease (a vault classic that i’d love to see them do something weird with) - nothing (101 guitar moment w the caveat i have heard rumors of a ‘devotionalised’ version that didnt end up on the setlist and if it truly fucks like i hope it would, then that) - john the revelator (influence of the unkle reconstruction aka that twinkling far out grungy thing. feel like mart on guitar and alan sparkling along the keys would be mmmmmmmm)

mart n dave duet interlude - sweetest perfection/condition mix (alright ive seen no one discuss this but these 2 share more than similar names!! i can hear it!!! and to get an a. wilder layered sonic journey..i wouldnt know how to act)

fourth quarter: we R grooving redux (R for haRd) - it’s no good (influence of hardfloor mix) - enjoy the silence (devotional/onip aka mart get nasty with that solo and dave be gay about it)(alright this is gonna be controversial for this blog but i think it’s gotta be the paris version for this show. it’s such a filthy solo and also imagine alan on the drums for it)(whos playing the keys bitch this is a fantasy) - nlmda (aggro mix intro + split mix Yes at least 10 mins of this song)

encore: oh y’all wanted to dance huh - personal jesus (funnily enough with how Much™ i want everything else to be, playing this one straight might be the highest camp experience it can give) - master and servant (101 sound pads and outro breakdown) - just can’t get enough (live in hamburg where they just fuck UP that 12”)

2nd encore: peche mode is a sad band, but the best band in the world - a question of lust (flood mix) - black celebration (101 w all its extra interesting lil sounds is a fav but i’d be SO open to a new alan take on this one) - everything counts (the graph/on the wall/the hand shake versions only. everyone else need not apply)(yes that means u devotional)

setting and era (musically/aesthetically)

as for the musical era, here’s the thing: if alan is present (and as it’s my dream dm show he is) i trust him to unify All This under some kind of cohesive performance. these are but humble suggestions of my fav arrangements. i’d say the underlying theme of my choices is High on the groove scale, but also very much wanting old school peche banging with hammers

outdoor on the lawn venue. ideally june 1, so it’s alans bday n dave hopefully won’t shut up abt it. looks-wise mftm/101 w shades of violator dark summer sexy. in high fantasyland: alan’s got that bisexual denim on leather look of drumming personal jesus in 89. mart’s tits are slipping out of that super low cut tank of 90 with the armband on. fletch is in his cunty mock turtleneck. dave’s in leather pants, a red tank n shirt and The Jacket that he gradually strips out of of (feels sacrilegious to not have him in a crop top in the late 80s so let’s just say his tank rides up a lil hehe)

mostly devotional visuals tho colorized less blue/purple lol, the big sans-serif Ms of memento mori were also giving for me. always love a dual-level setup for a dm show, but only if dave can traipse about both levels and flirt with whomsoever he chooses (which he will)

[rfsak2]

Spitfire, Pt. 9

Sorry this took longer than usual! I had a tattoo appointment on Saturday that took most of the day and I just struggled with what scenes to focus on. 

Despite its lateness, I hope you like it! Drop me a line and let me know. Also no spoilers for Daryl’s show. I haven’t watched it yet!

Spitfire, Pt. 9

Everyone always thought Daryl was the rough one. DarylxOC

Warnings: violence, emotions, injuries, lots of bad language words, smut under the cut

Part 8

“So how do we do this?”

Everyone turned to Mitzi, who sat at the head of the table, boots propped up on the corner.

“Depends.”

Gabriel nodded, waiting for her to elaborate. He glanced at Rosita, who rolled her eyes. “On?”

“On what we want to accomplish.” Mitzi smiled, aware that she was being irritating.

Maggie leaned over the map on the table. “We want him dead.”

“Well, hell.” Mitzi shrugged, taking her boots from the table and sitting up straight. “I coulda already accomplished that. Shot him through the forehead the minute he stepped up on that truck the other day.”

“Why didn’t you?” Rosita sucked her tongue.

Mitzi smiled sadly. “Because he had Sasha and Eugene and that’s not all we want.”

“Fuck Eugene.”

“Sure we know that now, but we didn’t know that then.” Mitzi sighed. “It’d still not have gotten us what we want.”

“Ok, Mitzi, just say what you’re thinking.” Rick sighed. 

“Do we just want him dead or do we want to take down the Sanctuary?” Mitzi crossed her arms over her chest. “And further, are we aiming to be top of the food chain or are we aiming to clean the streets?”

Maggie frowned. “Meaning?”

“If we don’t care, we just want him dead, I can give you that in a week tops, no muss, no fuss. Stake out the Sanctuary, snipe him at first chance.” Mitzi sighed. “The other two options are going to require more, more people, more resources, more of us. And they are gonna mean very different things about us and we need to have that conversation. I need to know what we want and if we are willing to do what needs to be done to get it.”

Gabriel hummed. “You’re asking why we’re doing this.”

“We’re three communities with very different reasons to join this fight and different values.” Mitzi nodded. “If we aren’t on the same page, this is all fucked from the start and we will lose and we will die. We need to go in together or not at all.” 

Rick nodded. That’s what makes the Saviors so effective. They go in together.”

Maggie sighed. “They’re cohesive, they all want what Negan wants.”

“Or too afraid to tell him no.” Daryl leaned forward, elbows on knees. 

Tara grimaced. “They are Negan.”

“So we need to have some of that same cohesion.” Mitzi ran her hand over Daryl’s back. “So what do we want?”

The King nodded. “I think I have an answer for you, Noble Mildred.”

Mitzi made a face, glancing at Daryl and then Rick. Daryl tucked his chin, trying hard not to smile.

Ezekiel glanced around the table, settling on Rick, whose shoulders were shaking. Carol patted Ezekiel’s shoulder, looking down and away to giggle quietly to herself. 

“What?”

Rick bit back a smile. “She doesn’t go by Mildred.”

“Certainly not Noble Mildred.” Tara snorted. 

“Rick is the only one who calls her by her full name and only when he’s teasing her. Daryl doesn’t even do it.” Maggie hid a smile behind her hand, watching Mitzi battle with herself internally.

“I’m sorry, Lady Dixon-“

Mitzi threw her head back and laughed, tears in her eyes. “Lady!”

Daryl snorted. 

“Holy shit! Being called Mrs. Dixon is always a trip but that- that right there is comedy.” Mitzi wiped at her face. “You know what, your majesty? Call me whatever you like. I honestly can’t see you callin’ me Mitzi anyways.”

Carol smiled. “If you want a title, she was a captain in the Army before the Turn.”

Ezekiel demurred with a bright smile. He turned on what she was beginning to recognize was his King voice and addressed the room. “Lady Mildred-“ 

Mitzi snorted and waved him off, mouthing ‘sorry’.

He smiled. “Captain Dixon has asked a very important question with dire ramifications. What do we want? What is the point of this endeavor?”

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. “I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. I want him dead.”

“For revenge or because you feel like it’s the right thing to do?” Mitzi leaned forward, eyes suddenly serious.

Maggie frowned. “Does it matter?”

“If everything goes well? No, it won’t matter.” Mitzi sighed. “If it doesn’t, when it doesn’t, when people die, it will matter then.”

The table was quiet and still.

“This is a righteous cause.” Ezekiel breathed deep. “Our motivations need to remain righteous.”

Mitzi smiled gently. “War is not that simple, your majesty. I have been to war for what I was assured were righteous reasons. Whether they were or not, the boots on the ground had different motivations. I had different motivations.”

Rick nodded, leaning back. “Do we all agree that killing Negan is the right thing to do?”

Everyone at the table nodded.

**

“Alright! Round up!” Mitzi motioned the residents of Hilltop closer to her. “We’re gonna start this now. I’ll do another class tomorrow for those who are working right now. I’ve been told that Sasha taught y’all how to be more effective with knives, so we’re gonna build on that.” She swallowed dryly. “How many of y’all have experience with guns?”

A small smattering of hands went up.

She breathed deep and glanced at Daryl, who shrugged. “Alright, How many have experience with rifles of any kind?”

Two hands went up and Mitzi sighed. “Hunting rifles?”

They both nodded, one, a tall black man, spoke up. “Mostly bolt-action.”

“Alright,” Mitzi drawled. Turning to Daryl, she muttered. “This is gonna be interesting.”

He shrugged, handing over her rifle. “You’ll be aight.”

She snorted and turned back to the crowd. “Let’s start with how to hold a rifle. I want everyone to either go get an empty, unloaded gun, or a stick, if we don’t have enough.”

Everyone did so, albeit reluctantly. For those who had a weapon, Mitzi walked around, teaching the residents how to clear each different type of gun. 

She smiled and handed a handgun back to a very frail-looking older woman. “I think the draft just closed, ma’am.”

“I’m old, not stupid.” The woman put a hand on her hip. “I know I ain’t going out there. I should know how to shoot a gun though.”

Mitzi huffed out a laugh. “Aight then.” She turned back to the crowd. “Most of y’all who have used guns before will probably find this redundant, but I am very specific about gun safety. If you can’t use a gun safely, you shouldn’t use it at all.”

The residents nodded and listened patiently as Mitzi guided the more novice gun handlers through basic gun safety. 

“Now, we're gonna move on.” Mitzi squared her body and lifted her rifle. “Most of y’all were taught a firing stance similar to this, if you were taught a specific stance at all.” She demonstrated, legs straight, back rigid, elbows stiff.

“This is okay.” Mitzi shrugged. “Nothing wrong with it, if you’re just practicing for an hour or two. But this will wear you out over a longer period of time.” She adjusted, hunkering down, knees bending, upper body canting slightly forward, elbows pulling the gun in tighter. “This needs to be the new normal. You need to bend the knees and lean into the gun. This helps your body absorb recoil. We’ll start with those legs. Show me what you saw.”

“Excuse me?”

Mitzi looked up from where she had been lightly kicking at a younger guy’s feet to spread them. She tapped at the back of his thigh to get him to bend his knees and nodded. Moving to the older man who had spoken, she smiled. “Yep?” “Why are we doing this?”

Mitzi’s head tilted, brow furrowed in confusion. “Gun trainin’?”

“No, why are we fighting the Saviors?” He frowned hard. “Gregory is gone and now you people are in charge and all of a sudden we’re fighting the Saviors. This is crazy!”

She glanced back at Daryl who had straightened, standing off the tree he had been leaned against. “You see that guy?”

The man nodded. 

“He’s my husband.” Mitzi smiled. “The night Negan killed two of our people, men I considered my brothers, who I loved as family because they are my family, he kidnapped my husband too. Negan and his goons tortured my husband for damn near a week. Daryl still hasn’t told me what happened while he was there and, as someone with similar personal experience, I honestly don’t expect him to.”

“So we’re doing this for your revenge?” The man was red in the face. “I didn’t-”

“I can’t answer why you’re doin’ it. That’s why I’m doin’ it.” Mitzi shrugged. “I know he’s killed your people too. A kid named Rory-”

The man blanched and Mitzi reached over to squeeze his shoulder. “I think that's why you’re doin’ this.”

**

“Breathe in. Aim. Shoot.”

The line of Kingdom soldiers fired and, when the sequence of silenced pops quieted, she held her hand up. Every gun lowered and she stalked the row of paper targets.

She stopped in front of one and held it up so everyone could see it, a perfect shot directly in the center of the paper person’s head. “Good shot, Jerry.”

The big man beamed back at her, holding up a thumbs up. “Thanks, Cap!”

She chuckled and moved down the line, shouting out a few more excellent shots. When she reached the end of the line, she looked over at Daryl, leaning forward on a fence. He licked at his bottom lip and lifted a hand to twirl a finger in the universal gesture for ‘wrap it up.’

Mitzi turned to address the group. “For those of y’all who aren’t super happy with your shots, I suggest learning to make that sequence faster. The longer you hold your breath, the more your arms are gonna shake. The more you shake, the worse your aim.”

Jerry frowned. “We’re done?”

Mitzi nodded. “Yeah, we been out here awhile anyways, but Daryl seems to need me for something, so class is dismissed!”

She stopped to chit-chat, offering tips to help people improve their aim. When she made it to Daryl, his eyes were hot and intense on her, hands white-knuckled around the fence he had been leaning on.

“Are you okay?” She hopped over the fence and reached up to brush hair from his face. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

He shook his head and wordlessly reached for her hand. He pulled her behind him, into a building and then into a room. She looked around, lifting a can of wood stain from a white-washed shelf. “Why are we in a closet, babe?”

She turned to him and he reached over to pull her rifle from her shoulder. He maintained eye contact and placed her rifle up on a shelf. She caught on as he lifted that same hand to cup the back of her neck.

Grinning, she allowed him to pull her into a kiss, lips parting to allow his tongue inside her mouth. She gasped into his mouth and fisted her hands in his shirt, pulling him against her. 

“You need somethin’, baby?”

He nodded, one side of his mouth upturned in a hot smirk as he pulled her into another open-mouthed kiss. 

“What gotcha so hot?”

He shrugged, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. “Dunno.”

Hand dropping to squeeze at him through his jeans, she huffed out a short laugh. “You’re real worked up for ‘dunno’.”

He grinned and dropped to his knees, pushing her back into the shelf behind her. He unbuckled and unbuttoned her jeans with rough hands and jerked them and her underwear down her legs as far as he could. Eyes hot on hers, he set his hands on her hips and turned her, sucking a bruise into the back of her thigh before she had time to settle. 

She sucked in a breath, laughing as her hands scrambled for purchase on the shelf. “Holy shit, baby.”

He switched, biting at her opposite. “Lookit this.” He drawled, gently spreading her lower lips and petting at her entrance with the very tip of his finger. “M’wife’s pretty pussy.”

She moaned, pushing back into him as he licked up from her clit with a long drag of his tongue. 

There was a loud clatter as her hand upended a tray of painting supplies. He grinned against her. 

“Oughta be quiet. Dunno who else is in the buildin’.” He nipped at one of her labia, moving to suck gently at the other.

She smiled, forehead, against the edge of a shelf. “Ya like it when people can hear, don’t play games. Makes ya feel good.”

“Ya want ‘em to hear how I fuck The Captain Dixon?” He pushed his pointed finger in, groaning as he watched her clench around him. 

She looked over her shoulder at him, neck so loose, head so heavy that she had to prop it up on her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered as his hand retreated and thrust back in. “That’s what this is about?”

He hummed, head dropping to mouth at her clit. She hissed and he grinned up at her. 

“You’re all hot because you’re fuckin’ The Captain Dixon?”

He chuckled, feeding her another finger. She moaned into her shoulder, eyes locked on his. 

“Ya like it when I boss people around. When I’m in charge.”

He sealed his mouth around her clit and sucked hard, arm pistoning his fingers into her at a brutal pace. Eyes squeezing shut, she turned back to the shelf, muffling her increasingly frantic moans in her elbow. 

“Taste good, baby.” He slipped in a third finger, shifting to lap against his fingers where they split her open. 

“Gonna-”

He nodded and reached up with his other hand to pinch at her clit, fingers still entering her at a bruising pace. “Do it then.”

She clamped her teeth around her wrist and came with a muffled scream. He stood, hand still working her gently down from her high. Reaching back blindly for his belt, she laughed breathlessly. “Fuck, Daryl.”

He brushed her hands away and jerked his belt and fly open. Shoving his jeans and underwear to his thighs and pulled his penis free. He palmed himself, looking up to catch her eyes on his hand. He grinned and nodded. “I am, baby.”

She hummed. 

“I am gonna fuck ya.” She smiled and reached one hand back to fist his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. He moaned into her mouth and stepped into her. Lining himself up against her, he caught her eyes and held them as he entered her in a relentless push. 

She moaned and pushed back against him, forehead falling to the shelf once more. 

He held himself against her, eyes closing to savor her grip on him. “Pretty baby. Look so good on me.”

She nodded, moaning into her elbow as his hips pulled back and snapped against her ass hard. 

“Fuck, baby.” She hissed and then whimpered when he withdrew again. 

He chuckled against the back of her head. One hand dropped to her hip and squeezed, pulling her back into him when he thrust back into her. His free hand lifted, digging into the curls at the nape of her neck and upsetting her bun. 

She moaned as he tugged gently at her roots and directed her head to the side. His hips snapped roughly again as she felt hot breath against the shell of her ear.

“I like knowin’ that m’wife, The Captain Dixon, is a tough badass who people listen to out there.” He licked her earlobe into his mouth. “All the while knowing that all I have t’do is get ya alone and I can make you moan and whimper and cream on my cock like a bitch in heat.”

She smiled and turned to catch his lips, slipping her tongue into his mouth as the hand on her neck moved to rub at her clit with quick, efficient movements. 

She gasped against his mouth and he grinned, thrusting faster and rougher into her. “Ain’t that right, Spitfire?’

She moved her hips back against him with a sensual smile. “It ain’t wrong.”

He clamped his hand down on her hip and grinded roughly into her. “Don’t play games with me, baby.” He tightened his arm around her, hand still working at her clit. The hand that had been on her hip lifted and hooked around her chin, holding her steady as he mouthed at her jaw. “A’int that right, Spitfire?”

She moaned in lieu of answering and nodded. 

“Say my name.”

She complied, groaning into his mouth as he pressed another hard kiss to her open mouth. 

“Cum. Now, baby.”

He followed her.

**

“Y’okay?”

She blinked up at him, pressing a kiss to his chin when he turned concerned eyes down at her. “I’m just thinkin’.”

“Christ.” He huffed. “God save us all.”

She gasped and pinched his side. “Dickhead!”

He grinned and surged up, rolling over her and setting his head against her chest. They quieted almost in sync, her fingers twisting the ends of his hair around her fingers. 

“What’re y’thinkin’ ‘bout?”

She sighed. “Tomorrow.”

He glanced at the alarm clock on her night stand. “Today.”

She shifted to look at the clock and swore under her breath. “Yeah, today. Fuck.”

“Sleep at all?”

She shook her head. “Not a wink.”

He moved so they were sharing a pillow and guided her to turn on her side, facing him. “You thinkin’ better of this?”

She shook her head with a soft smile. “No, it’s the right thing to do.”

“Then why can’t y’sleep?” He mumbled, settling deeper into the mattress.

She shrugged. “It was always like this before the Turn. I never slept before a big operation. Brain’s too busy.” 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’ll be alright.”

She swallowed. “I hope so.”

He set his forehead against hers. “It will be.”

She pushed his hair gently out of his face, nodding. “Are you okay with this?”

He pushed his nose against hers, sighing. “Rather just wipe them all out…Non’a them deserve to live.”

She nodded. “I think it’d be smarter. Just take care of it, get it over with. We leave any of them, leadership especially, alive and we can have a problem on our hands later.”

“But the King and Jesus-”

“And Rick.” She added. “He ain’t any more comfortable with the idea of takin’ them all out.”

Sighing, he pressed another kiss to her forehead. “Dunno why, he was there that night.”

“He doesn’t wanna be him.” She snuggled in closer to him, yawning. 

“He wouldn’t though, wouldn’t be him.” He nuzzled his face into her shoulder. “Ain’t nothin’ like him.”

“You’re practical, baby.” She pressed a kiss to his head. “You see the world in black and white. It’s right or it’s wrong. Rick is more gray, always has been and always has struggled with what is right or wrong in this world.”

“It’s pretty fuckin’ clear.” Daryl groused, sucking on his teeth. “Negan’s gotta die.”

“I agree with you, D.” She soothed her hand over his head. “Not because I think he’s evil. Just basic strategy, if we don’t take ‘em out, they’ll come back at us eventually.”

His eyes grew heavy and she smiled, her eyes following suit. 

“I love ya, Spitfire.” He yawned, pressing a kiss to her mouth. 

“I love you too, Daryl.” She ran her thumb over his eyebrow. “You ain’t allowed to die without my express permission by the way.”

He snorted. “Ain’t gonna die. Gotta be around to put a baby in ya one of these days.”

She smiled, blinking away tears. “Aight, that’s a deal. We survive this and you getta put a baby in me.”

“You ain’t allowed to die either.” He pressed a sleepy kiss to her mouth. 

“You die and I will break into wherever you are and get you out.”

He knocked his forehead to hers. “Promise.”

“Promise.”

**

“I care about my people. I don’t wanna march them into the line of fire because I wanna play ‘my dick is bigger than yours.’” He grinned and Rick glanced back at Mitzi who moved into position. “It is. We both know it. But I’m also comfortable enough to accept the fact if it wasn’t. I’m certainly not gonna let my people die over that shit.”

Mitzi shot over Negan’s head, laughing loudly as everyone on the landing flinched. 

“Fuck, where is she?” Simon ducked down, searching the windows of the surrounding buildings.

“Right the fuck here. Don’t worry, honey, I ain’t hidin’.” Mitzi stepped up next to Rick and waved at Negan, holding her M110 in plain view. “Guess I won the dick measuring contest.” She gestured to the gun, smiling cruelly when Negan swallowed. “I see you noticed. Sassy gun for a sassy lady, after all.”

Negan smirked. “The Missus.”

“That’s what you decided to codename me?” Mitzi threw her head back and laughed. “You know you ain’t any less ‘fraid of me because I’m a wife, right? You still shittin’ yourself.”

His jaw flexed. “Where’s your husband?”

“Off doing something more important.” She grinned. “Don’t change the subject though, I’m amused by this conversation. You can be honest in front of your people, right, Negan? You can tell ‘em how your hand shook when you were tryin’- failin’ -to intimidate me? How you tried to be tough, to harass me into bein’ compliant. You can tell ‘em you’re afraid right, Negan?”

“We ain’t afraid of nothin’, bitch.” 

Negan shot Simon a look and the seething man shrank back.

“Surely not nothin’.” She turned to Simon with an aggressive smile. “I can imagine a number of things you’re afraid of, Simon. You ‘n I both know you’d be nothin’ but a sorry sack’a shit if Negan hadn’t found your ass. And you can pretend all ya want, but we both know you were about to shit yourself when you visited us last in Alexandria. I saw it, you saw it, your men saw it.”

“You didn’t see nothin’.” He seethed. 

Mitzi chuckled. “Sure, tell yourself that, sugar.” She grinned. “It ain’t gonna help none, but you do you. Also, I should tell you, in furtherance of honesty and straightforwardness, as much as I love and respect Rick, I’m killin’ you and that prick Dwight ASAP, whether you surrender or not.” 

Negan forced a grin on his face. “Why didn’t Dear Daryl come with, I wonder? Maybe he’s afraid? Afraid I’ll get my hands on him again?”

“My husband is gonna gut you, Negan.” She fired another shot over his head, glass shattered. “I promised you that, remember? I’m personally gonna make sure you die. I don’t make promises, I can’t keep.” “Can’t gut somebody if the coward ain’t here.” Simon wrung his hands around the metal bannister. “And I don’t see him.”

She shot at Simon’s feet, grinning when he jumped. “Unless you suddenly grow a pair and are ready to pop on down here and back up your words, you gray-haired cunt, I suggest you shut your yella-bellied mouth. Your big ass forehead is too big a target to be mouthin’ off like that.”

“You gotta mouth on you, lady.” The female outpost head stepped forward. 

“Yeah, I fuckin’ do.” Mitzi laughed. “Promise you this, though, I can cash the checks my mouth writes. So I’d be worried if I was you.”

Negan sighed. “What the hell can I do for you, Rick?”

Rick grinned and discretely squeezed Mitzi’s shoulder and she moved back into formation. “Dwight.”

**

“How do you always end up covered in so much blood?” Mitzi let her rifle hang free from the strap across her chest and piled her hair on top of her head, wrapping a hair tie around it.

Rick shrugged, leaning over to take another polaroid of the carnage.

She chuckled and started gathering the Saviors' weapons. “I mean seriously, we all walk away relatively clean- '' She paused to fire a shot into a reanimated Savior. “You come out lookin’ like you’re tryin’ a new skin care regimen to stay young.”

Rick turned to glare at her.

Daryl snorted and fired his crossbow into another walker. “Always get the shit beat outta ya, too.”

She nodded. “You do know that you don’t have to challenge every person to a round of fisticuffs, right? You can just shot ‘em. That’s why you carry a gun.”

“Is now really the time?” Rick huffed. “Don’t you have somethin’ to be doin’?”

“Always, boss.” She saluted and went back to gathering weapons. 

“Eric!”

Her head snapped up and she glanced at Daryl, before making her way through the car barricade to where Aaron was standing with Scott. She jogged up and rubbed her hand over Aaron’s back. 

Beyond them, moving towards the highway and the herd, was a lone walker. She handed Aaron her rifle and pulled her knife. “I’ll go get him.”

Aaron shook his head. “No, it should be me.”

“We’re family.” She squeezed Aaron’s side and caught Scott’s eyes. “It doesn’t hafta be you. I’ll get him. I’ll take care of him.”

Aaron held her eyes and nodded.

She jogged out, catching up with Eric’s body easily. She slowed, sneaking up on him and sliding her knife up into the back of his brain as quietly and gently as possible. She caught his body and pulled him over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

She made it back and, with Aaron’s help, lowered Eric’s body gently to the ground. She sat with Aaron as he covered Eric’s body and, after a while, stood, squeezing Aaron’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, kid. He was a good man.”

Aaron looked up at her, grabbing her hand. “Thank you, Mitzi.”

She smiled softly, nodding, and moved the few steps over to Daryl, who leaned against a low concrete wall behind Aaron.

She stepped in close and pressed her forehead to his. “He woulda done it for us,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I know. I ain’t say nothin’.”

They both started at the sound of a baby crying.

“She was inside?”

Rick nodded at Tobin, carrying an infant wrapped in a white blanket over. “She was. I have a stop to make, Daryl’s got his bike… Mitzi is Mitzi.” She snorted and Rick smiled. “Maybe she can go back with you or Scott?”

Aaron stood. “She can go with me.”

**

“Why the fuck are y’all here?” Mitzi exploded out of the building she had been perched in. “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

Daryl breathed deep. “Spitfire-”

“Don’t Spitfire me.” She set her hands on her hips. “Y’all are supposed to be at home.”

Michonne glanced at Rosita and shrugged. “I just wanted to see it for myself. Rosita came with me.”

“Okay, I can respect that. Why are you two here?” She turned to regard Daryl and Tara.

Setting his shoulders, Daryl moved to stand in front of Mitzi. “There’s been a change of plans, Mitz.”

“Decided by who?” She caught his eyes and held them. “Baby, who decided to change the plan?”

He clenched his jaw and looked away. “I did.”

She nodded. “Why?”

He turned back to her and set his hands on her shoulders. “Remember what we talked ‘bout last night. We both want ‘em gone. All gone. No ways out, nothin’ like that.”

Mitzi sighed, shaking her head. “Yeah, but that ain’t what we agreed on, D.” 

“I know, but-” He squeezed her shoulders gently. “Just listen to the plan, okay?”

She grunted in frustration and threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Why the hell not?”

Michonne nodded and repeated the plan “So we cover you with crossfire from the upper windows. You crash the truck into the walkers and through to the building.”

Tara nodded. “Yep. Crack it open, Savior buffet.”

Mitzi shot a hard look at Daryl. “The plan is to drive through a herd of walkers. What happens if you get pinned down, or if the walkers can’t get past the front of the truck?”

“That’s why we’re hopin’ you’ll lay down cover, watch our backs.”

Mitzi huffed and moved away from Daryl, stalking a step or two outside of the circle.

Rosita asked: “You know the workers will make it away, up the stairs?”

Daryl nodded. “They’re on the other side of the building. They should make it.”

Rosita shook her head, sighing. “You sure?”

“After we do this, their only choice is to give up.” He looked at Mitzi and edged closer to her as she stewed.

Michonne sighed. “It’s risky, They could see the truck comin’.”

Tara stepped forward. “There weren’t any more weapons at the Savior’s warehouse, right? No more rockets for the RPGs. We work with what we got.”

“You got me.” They all turned to Morgan as he approached. He nodded to Mitzi. “Other snipers, too. Saviors see you comin’, we got you covered. Whatever it takes. I want it done. I want them done.”

“Good.” Daryl rasped. “Are we doin’ this or what?” He glanced down at Mitzi, who raked her fingers through her hair roughly.

Rosita huffed. “What don’t we just wait it out like we’ve planned? Michonne’s right. What you’re talking about is risky. Things could go bad.”

Tara was getting agitated, her speech clipped and flat. “The truck with the speakers almost took all those walkers away. It almost did go bad. Something else could.”

Mitzi scoffed. “Something could always go bad. We don’t need to risk our lives, more than we’ve already have today, for an if.”

“Even if it don’t, we don’t got the Kingdom fighters no more. If the Saviors wanna put up a fight, we don’t got the numbers to make ‘em surrender.”

Rosita nodded. “That’s why Rick is talking to the Scavengers.”

Tara groaned in frustration. “You got shot. They lied to us. You believe them now?”

Rosita shook her head. “I believe in Rick Grimes.”

Mitzi rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. “The Scavengers are a long shot. Even if they don’t just shoot Rick on sight, I can’t see myself trustin’ them.”

Tara crossed the circle at Rosita. “I could’ve done something sooner, to end this. I knew about those weapons at Oceanside, and I waited. I didn’t do shit about it.”

Mitzi shook her head. “Those are two very different situations-”

“Are they?” Tara whirled on Mitzi, pressing into her space. “They don’t feel different.”

“No, I don’t imagine they do. Oceanside didn’t attack us though and you made a promise. And because you are a good woman, Tara, you struggled with breaking that promise. What you are talkin’ about doin’ is completely different and it could get someone- namely my husband- killed. And while that wouldn’t be at all your fault, seein’ as he is fool enough himself-” She pegged Daryl with a hard stare. “I really don’t want him-or you-dyin’.”

Tara scoffed. “With or without you guys, I’m not letting that happen again.”

Rosita shrugged. “Then it's without me.” She stood. “I’m out.”

“We’ve got some cars parked near the East side lookout. You can take one and go home.”

Rosita nodded and turned to Michonne. “You staying? You good with all of this?”

“I helped get this started. Got to see it through.”

“You think it’s easier to come out here and risk, than to stay back there and wait. And I get it, I used to believe that, too. Thing is sometimes, you just have to wait. Sometimes you don’t get to know. I just wish it didn’t take seeing Sasha walk out of that coffin to realize it.” She walked off.

They all turned to Mitzi, who scuffed the toe of her boot into the gravel.

Daryl wrapped his hand around her arm and leaned into her space. “What d’ya think, Spitfire?”

“You’re gonna do this one way or another, huh?” She looked up at him.

He nodded. 

“Even if means dyin’ and leavin’ me here?” She swallowed.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “I ain’t dyin’ here.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Mitzi, Wife.” He stared hard into her eyes. “I ain’t leavin’ you.”

She breathed deep and nodded. “Yeah, fine. Can’t rightly let you do it without at least providing cover.” She poked Daryl’s chest. “You better fuckin’ live, you punk, or I’m kickin’ your ass. When all this is done,” She motioned around them, “You betta neva try shit like this again.”

“Are you gonna promise not to start fights you end up pullin’ me into?”

She socked him in the arm. “I ain’t never started a fight I can’t end. You poke your nose into my fights, that’s your business.”

He pressed a hard kiss to her mouth.

**

Mitzi sucked in a breath, tears streaming down her face, biting her lip to keep quiet. Daryl pulled her in tighter, pressing a kiss to her head. 

Judith, clapped her hands against Mitzi’s cheeks, wriggling against Mitzi’s chest. “MiMi, no cry.”

She wiped her eyes one-handed and smiled down at Judith. “I’m okay, baby girl. Just sad.”

Judith patted at her face again. “MiMi, sad.”

Mitzi nodded. “Yeah. Very sad.”

“Cal.” 

Mitzi buried another sob. “Yeah, ‘cause of Carl.”

She laid her head on Mitzi’s shoulder and nodded. “Sad too.”

She pressed a kiss to Judith’s head and caught Daryl’s eyes. He leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth. “Y’Okay?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He nodded, face full of the empathy reserved only for her. “Let’s give her over to Tobin. Need you on your gun.”

She nodded and moved to pass Judith to Tobin. 

Judith shook her head, fisting her hands in Mitzi’s shirt. “No, wan’ MiMi.”

Mitzi cooed. “I know, Judy-Booty, but I got work t’do and Uncle Toby’s been wanting a cuddle since we left.”

Judith pouted out her bottom lip and shook her head. 

Smiling fondly, Mitzi pressed a kiss to her head. “Can you make him feel better with your cuddles like you made me feel better?”

Judith sighed, still pouting, but giggled when Tobin mimed tickling her. 

When she was safely in Tobin’s arms, Mitzi wiped at her eyes, wandering slightly ahead of Daryl and the group. He caught up quickly, walking alongside her and handing her her rifle. 

She breathed deep and looped her torso through the strap. Shouldering it, she sighed.

“Sorry, baby.” He pulled her into his side. “Wanted to wait longer.”

She shook her head. “Nah, it’s fine, better probably. Shit’s been running through my brain since we left. Better to have a job.”

Daryl nodded. “We gotta figure out what route to take into Hilltop.” He pulled a map out of his pocket. “Should take a break and discuss it.”

Mitzi smiled. “If you’re tired, big man, just say so… Don’t stop on my account.”

He chuckled and cast a glance over his shoulder. “Nah, I’m good, but they all look like they're about to fall over.”

She kissed his cheek, before stopping and turning towards the marching group. “Let’s take a break!” 

She followed Daryl to a low flat rock, where he spread out the map. “If they’re smart, they’ll cover all these passes between here and Hilltop.”

Rosita perched herself on the other side of the map, Tara settling next to her. She studied the map and sighed. “We have to keep moving. We’ll just have to risk it.”

Dwight approached them cautiously. “Maybe you don’t have to.” He leaned over the map. “Negan won’t send his people down into this stretch of swamp, not if he doesn’t have to.”

“Yeah? How do you know that?” 

Dwight didn’t shy away from meeting Tara’s angry eyes. “Negan wanted to map the best routes with cover from the Sanctuary to the Hilltop. He decided the swamp was too dangerous. Didn’t think it was worth the risk.”

Mitzi nodded, glancing between Daryl and Rosita. 

Tara shot up, moving away from them, aghast. “You’re not seriously going to listen to him? It’s too dangerous for the Saviors, so you’re gonna send us? Are you kidding me?”

Rosita scoffed. “They have us boxed in.”

Tobin spoke up. “Tara has a point. Why should we trust him?”

Scott nodded. “He can turn on us like he turned on his own people.”

Mitzi caught Dwight’s eyes. “Because he knows that leading us the wrong way ain’t gonna get him anywhere, but dead.”

“What if they ambush us?”

Mitzi’s answering smile was smug. “I think we all know, Dwight included, that I’m deadly accurate, quick shot or no. I can take him out well before anyone disarms me.”

Dwight nodded. “I am aware of that fact. And I didn’t just turn on ‘em. I killed them. Daryl saw it, Rosita saw it.” He turned to Tara. “You saw it. But one of ‘em got away. So if they find me, Negan puts my head on a pike. I’m not working for them, and I’m not going back to them. I chose my side, this is it. I’m here to help you beat Negan. After that, well, I know how it ends.”

Daryl glanced out over the group and nodded at Mitzi. “All right. We’ll try the swamps.”

Mitzi chuckled. “Nice speech, Dwight. I’m still gonna kill you if you try anything.”

“Yeah, I know.”

**

Mitzi settled back against the big house, breathing shakily as she pulled the folded up letter from her back pocket.

She unfolded it, running her thumb over her name on the front. She blinked, not bothering to brush away the tears that fell. 

Mitz,

You are the oddest, but the best, aunt a person could ask for and one of the best people we could have met at the beginning of all of this. I love you so much. I’m so grateful for everything you taught me, for all the times you provided me with your weird, cuss-filled wisdom, when you kept my feet on the ground and when you helped me just be a kid.

I’ll never forget playing foosball at the CDC with Sophia and you. I’ll never forget what you told me when my mom died. I’ll never forget every time you smiled and told me it would be alright and it was.

You taught me so much. Helped my dad make me an adult and worthy man. You taught me what it meant to care for people, to put yourself on the line for those you love. I have a feeling that I will show some of your teaching today. I hope I make you proud.

I know that you’re hurting, as much as my Dad and Michonne. I know you’ve been hurting since probably before that night. Rosita didn’t let me see you, but I could hear you in you and Daryl’s room. I know that you think that taking down the Saviors will make some of that better. Maybe it will. I also know the Savior’s have to come down, but that doesn’t mean they all have to die. 

I’m saying this to you knowing that it is a painful thing to ask. But I am also asking this because I know you can do it. I believe with my whole heart that my Aunt Mitz can do anything.

Please help my dad and Michonne. I know you don’t always agree with Dad, that you aren’t going to agree with what I’ve asked you here. I know that you’d rather get shit over with, do things smart not hard, but sometimes we have to do things the hard way to do things the right way. Dad’s going to need you. Even if he makes a decision you don’t agree with. Please help him.

I want my family to survive.

Carl

P.S. Tell Daryl he was the coolest uncle I could’ve had. I just ran out of paper and I wasn’t sure he could read.

Mitzi sobbed. She stilled her hands and folded the letter as gently as possible. Holding it with two hands, as if it was as precious as it surely was, she pulled her knees to her chest and folded in on herself. 

A short moment later, she felt a soft hand on the back of her neck. “Spitfire?”

She sucked in a breath and looked up at him. “Carl wrote me a letter.” She handed it to him and moved to wipe at her face. “I hadn’t been able to read it yet.”

He settled on the ground next to her and opened the letter. She settled against his side, head on his shoulder. After a while, he snorted. “Lil Shit.”

**

She set her rifle with a deliberate thunk, the little folding table she had brought into the cell groaning under the full weight of a M110 sniper system. 

Negan wouldn’t look at her, staring down at the floor of his cell.

She grinned as she sat in the chair.

“Knew you were lying.”

“I’m sure you did.” She shrugged. “Too afraid of lil ol’me to try and call me on it, huh?”

“Yeah, I was.” He made a face. “I’m not too proud to admit that.”

“That why you can’t look me in the eye now?”

He looked up and caught her eyes, flinching away from her.

She chuckled. “You knew I was lying and that’s why you were shitting your pants that day, huh?” She smiled, pulling out her cleaning kit and sitting on the fold-up chair left in here for the guards. 

He shook his head, eyes still trained on his boots.

“What was it you called it? Pee-pee city?” She disassembled the suppressor, purposely loud.

He winced. 

She cleared the chamber, the gun was empty but the click of the bolt caused him to jump. “But you didn’t know who you had kneeling there. Didn’t know who Rick is, who Michonne is. Didn’t know whose husband you killed. Didn’t know who you had taken. Didn’t know whose husband you took.”

He sucked in a shaky breath.

“Bet you near shat y’self silly when you found out, huh?” She opened the solvent bottle and poured some onto the barrel brush. “Betcha you felt that creepin’ dread when you looked into Daryl’s eyes and saw that you wouldn’t break him.”

“I didn’t try to break your hus-“ 

“I thought you were honest.” She smiled again. “But I betcha looked over your shoulder every day, every minute after our conversation.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t particularly bothered.”

She barked out a laugh. “You cover it well, I’ll grant ya.” She fed the barrel brush in, purposely making more noise than necessary. “But I could tell when you looked in my eyes that night that you weren’t nuthin’ but a sack of gutless white meat.”

“I didn’t take you for someone to torture a person.”

“Torture?” She laughed. “I’ve been tortured, this ain’t torture.” She caught his eyes. “This is just the natural consequences of your actions.”

“Just this?” Negan tried for a grin. “I’m thinkin’ I’m gettin’ off easy. Maybe you can help me get-”

“You know what they say, dickhead. Play shit games, win shit prizes. Don’t play shit games when you’re locked in a cell and I’m on the other side with a gun.”

He looked away.

“Besides.” She snorted. “That’s mighty bold coming from someone who tortured my husband.”

“I didn’t-”

She shot him a baleful look. “It’s time to stop the bullshit and sack up, Negan. I’ve been denied the ability to keep my promise, so this is what I can do. It’s the least of what you deserve. We both know that.”

He made a face, shrugging

She rolled her eyes. “Fuckin’ coward. I knew it then and I know it now.”

“Spitfire.”

She didn’t turn, didn’t look at Daryl. “I could tell when you put your hand on my shoulder. You were real careful not to get too close and, as hard as you tried, your hand shook. You made that quip about getting hard being threatened, but we both know you didn’t sleep well that night. That you knew you were only safe as long as you had my husband locked up, as long as he was alive and well.” 

He met her eyes for the first time since she had walked in. She grinned maliciously and felt Daryl’s hand on her shoulder. 

“Which means you were really shitting y’self when he got out.”

Part 10

[thehappymanager]

Tip #1 of being a Stage Manager (besides my rant):

TL;DR - Don’t regret your decisions. They were not there. You were. You did good.

Don’t take anyone’s crap. Like seriously.

I have been a stage manager for multiple shows and I can tell you, when I started out, I was super duper shy. I had a hard time controlling the cast and doing my job in general because I was afraid to ask for help. ALWAYS ASK FOR HELP. I cannot stress this enough. Being a stage manager is not something you are taught in a formal setting. It is more like being thrown into the deep end with everyone expecting you to know how to do your job, which you don’t. That is how I let everyone push me around.

In a stage manager’s role, you are to blame for everything that goes wrong in a show, even if you had nothing to do with it. If something does go wrong, it is your job to fix it in the most resourceful and efficient manner as possible while handling a million other tasks. I want to tell you about possibly the worst feeling as a stage manager in an entire production process.

It is feeling the blame.

Not the stress of trying to make a production run smoothly or the many people you have to wrangle into one cohesive unit, but it is having to make the hard decisions when things inevitably go wrong. And the feeling afterwards. As a stage manager, you are the one to run the show from that point. The director has done their job and the other production crews have their set tasks they don’t deviate from unless absolutely necessary. Your job is different every time. Being a stage manager is like being an actor on the stage; you have your guidelines but things won’t happen the same way every time. A problem will arise that did not happen the night before and now it’s a whole new experience. The one thing I struggled with at the start was completing this part.

I was a people-pleaser set on making everyone’s dreams come true. Because of that, I neglected my primary job being a stage manager. A stage manager’s job isn’t to be a people-pleaser; it is to get the job done and well. If you don’t do that, then no one is going to trust you to run the production. And to my main point, no one is going to respect you either.

Many of the cast members demanded things of me that both were not important in the moment and distracting from my original task. If I had considered the possibility of rejecting them, that production would have gone smoother. And this is not about protecting your friend’s feelings because that whole notion was out the door as soon as you signed up to be stage manager. This is strictly a boss-employee relationship, where you may have to get serious with someone you don’t want to get serious with. That is the primary role of a stage manager; to be the stern foundation of an otherwise horribly structured tower. That might also mean protecting the production in the interest of the show itself.

Here is an example from my own experience of making a hard decision.

…

I was sitting in my black stage manager’s rolling chair on stage right looking at my entrance and exit sheet.

Enter Cast Member.

“Happy!” (an alias for anonymity’s sake)

“Yes?!”

“GIRL in the green room has raging pink eye! What are we gonna do?!”

I had gone to check on GIRL.

“Well then, we have to quarantine her in another room and clean the area. She also won’t be able to perform within proximity to the rest of the cast since many people have colds anyway.”

The rest of the cast had agreed and GIRL had reluctantly moved to the another room.

…

This is not the part that is difficult. Here is the next day.

…

Director looks around at the cast and crew disappointedly.

“GIRL did not have pinkeye and you all made a rash judgement costing GIRL performance time on the stage. I am very disappointed. You all are not doctors so you cannot make an immediate diagnosis without knowing the situation. I fully expected GIRL to go on in the next act. All you have to do is wash your hands and not touch your face”

…

In this instance, I was wrong and there will be many times that you are wrong as well. However, I still think that this judgement was best because if you have ever been backstage with a bunch of children, meeting those parameters are almost impossible. Furthermore, while harsh, GIRL was in the ensemble where at least 16 people go onstage with her. Had she been in an important role I would have definitely made a different judgement, but seeing as she was not, it was all that I thought I could do in the moment. If I had more time and less thoughts running in my brain, maybe we could have figured something better out.

I say all that to say don’t regret the decisions you make. Don’t deal with anyone who gives you crap about it because they were not there. You were. That was your responsibility not anyone else’s. Own up if you were wrong in that decision, but don’t let anyone tell you that you did your JOB wrong. Because your job is to run the show, and I know for a fact that they never did.

The Happy Manager😁

[annaizscribbling]

can i just ask for some general info about logans library? how does it affect the sides? does it affect them in any way? is it like, safe for logan to spend a lot of time there?

I'm starting w this ask because I'm in the car for a few more hours and I don't wanna type the other ones out on mobile haha

I had a ton of ideas for Logan's library as I was getting further into Low Battery, but definitely not at the beginning, so the fun world building couldn't be incorporated because it wasn't exactly foreshadowed super great. In my defense, it was my very first time writing a multi chaptered anything. I'm honestly very extremely surprised that Low Battery turned out as good as it did lmao. How on earth did that fix turn out at all cohesive idk.

The library was thrown in as filler in the second chapter until I randomly remembered it while outlining like 6 chapters later and decided to make it the focal point of the fic. It resulted in a scene I am genuinely so proud of, and it opened the fic up to so many good scenes and topics. All because I threw it in willy nilly.

Anyway

Patton's room in canon is an extension of himself, his nostalgic and familial orientations, but it kinda works against him a bit. It's a powerful part of him, but also a foe. He mentions how it's hard to leave sometimes, and it takes the others waiting outside to motivate him enough to leave.

Logan's library is a bit like that. It's an extension of him, but not strictly a tool at his disposal, much like Patton's is in canon.

The library I call a memory library because I did not know what else I was gonna call it, even when it felt slightly off, because it's not a completely accurate name. The library houses the facts, rules, and understandings that Thomas has ammased over the years. The books are the exact memories when Thomas understand/discovered how a piece of the world works, but not just memories in general. Patton and Logan kinda share that stuff.

(but if I say that, then I can divide memory retention across all the sides, which I didn't consider until now. Virgil could house survival instinct, embarrassing moments, the things that keep you up at night, and the little fears and horrors from even childhood. Roman and Remus would have creative inspiration. Janus could keep scores and potential information for getting ahead. But then the whole concept becomes very abstract and bleeds into each other, which I don't hate. It would just have to be a looser concept that's spread and shared around the entire mind, which could be really cool either visually or even just internally and ... What was I talking about? I'm getting extremely distracted. Sorry. These always turn out so long whoops. Sorry Shadow, you can't ask me one question without receiving entire essays apparently)

The shelves house the books that hold every fact or rule that Thomas has aquired. Logan is kind of infused with all of that information. He doesn't necessarily need to enter the library to access the information, it's inside of him, he just has to sorta reach around for it or try and recall. He's probably got it linked to a computer or something I don't know haha

In the same way that Patton's occasionally dangerous use of nostalgia as a coping mechanism, Logan's library preys on curiosity, escapism, and the need for control.

The library temps with answers and understanding that will make the world make sense, offering a false sense of control and familiar facts. Or, simple curiosity. Logan suffers on both fronts within the library, and it frightens him.

The actual books are pretty simple. The book isn't always labeled, but you'll know. It contains the moment Tommy learned something. In Low Battery, Logan opens the book when Thomas begins to learn how paint, dyes, and flowers work. It would be the beginning of a series of books on the topic, so as Thomas learned more over the years, more books on the subject formed. Logan chose that one because he missed when Thomas was babey, so he chose the oldest one in the series.

It's not overly safe to stay in Logan's library for very long, as they discuss in the fic. Less because of the effect of Logan's library, much like the main canon rooms, but because it's hard to resist long enough to escape. The library desires for you to learn more and stay, so while certainly never quite impossible, it's very hard to get out. And even harder to ignore the call.

Logan had gotten stuck more than once, mostly when he was younger, trapped and unable to leave because the call of information was too strong no matter how badly he wanted to leave. The other sides have barely seen the inside. Save Roman and Janus, who both stepped inside once or twice. Logan refuses to talk about it.

The affect of the library doesn't grow stronger when you spend more time there, it's your own will that gets worn down from resisting.

Janus can't get in very well easily because of the way he manipulates the walls everywhere else, which the library doesn't love. Though he certainly struggle with the temptation of strategy and understanding the truth of old memories.

Roman was wary going in because he's easily swayed by enchanting memory, but he's more nostalgic and fantastical than purely curious.

Patton already struggles with nostalgia, and though different, the library is a counterpart that can loop him in.

Virgil I think struggles with escaping and is terrified of being so disoriented and lost in such a dangerous place.

Remus will chew the paper. So.

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

I have had some alcohol and now all language skills are going out the window and yet, and fucking YET

I'm thinking about museum stuff again

[jamesvanriemsdyk]

Best GMs and coaches in the league ACC to you?

we can start with gms because coaching is a bit more complicated. best gms in the league is easy to look at because like, who has a good team? who has had a consistently good team? whose locker room is the most cohesive, whose coaching staff is the best? who is the best at acquiring and keeping the best players, coaches, staff, etc? and you can see that in the way teams play. 

(putting this under the cut because it got long. and i mean Long.)

so, in no particular order: kyle dubas (leafs), steve yzerman (red wings, i will explain this later), don waddell (canes), julien brisebois (lightning), joe sakic (avs), and kelly mccrimmon/george mcphee (golden knights) (god i still hate that name and also will explain this later too) are the best in the league in my opinion. honorable mention to marc bergevin, who has held onto his job much longer than he arguably should have, but still has a decent team on the ice and a decent coaching staff, although the french rule does severely handicap them (i understand why it exists but it does, it just does). 

david poile (preds) is the longest tenured gm in the league (has been the preds gm since fucking 1997, thats insane, thats legit before i was born, what the fuck), and i do genuinely think he is very good at his job, and that he is very hockey smart, but oh boy have his recent decisions been suspect as hell, and that reflects in the state of his team. doug wilson (sharks), who is the second longest tenured gm in the nhl, is in the exact same boat (the karlsson deal is a nightmare, and also did he just forget that his star core was gonna get old and retire or ??).

with dubas, waddell, brisebois, sakic, and mccrimmon/mcphee all have the same basic strengths: they draft well, they have a fundamental understanding of their team structure and how to manage public perception of the team and everything that implies, and they have two fingers on the pulse of their locker room at all times. im not going to pretend to know as much about sakic and mccrimmon/mcphee as i do the eastern gms, but it doesnt take much to figure it out. look at the avs, and their locker room, the success theyve found after being dead fucking last in the league. look at the knights and their incredible success that theyve found after literally not existing before 2017. ive talked about dubas a lot on my blog, but its incredibly easy to see that waddell and brisebois do the same shit he does, and i can do a deep dive on them if asked. bergevin has moments of brilliance, like the suzuki trade and acquiring caufield and anderson, but things like kotkaniemi’s development and their entire blue line give me a massive pause, which is why he’s not in the main list. he’s a good gm. he’s just not the best.

in regards to steve yzerman: you have to understand that this is the man that built the tampa bay lightning as we know them. this man was gm of the bolts until fucking 2018. tampa bay has been a monster in the eastern conference for years, BECAUSE of the work steve yzerman put in. his team set the franchise record for wins, and he was the first and is the only lightning gm to have won gm of the year. look up the 17-18 roster. it is, essentially, the roster that won them the cup last year. make no mistake, i think brisebois is great, and hes on the list for a reason, but the biggest part of brisebois’ success was steve yzerman’s incredible hockey mind. brisebois essentially had to sell off a fourth of his roster, and the lightning are still a top team in their division and in the league, and thats why he’s there (it is so incredibly easy to fuck shit up post cup win), but the brisebois lightning would not exist without steve yzerman, plain and simple.

what steve yzerman is doing in detroit should be watched very, very closely by every single person in the hockey world. youre fucking nuts if youre not paying attention to them, not gonna lie. the mantha trade was excellent, if really sad if you know even a bit about the wings, but the amount of draft picks steve yzerman has amassed and the way he’s using the prospects and players he already has is really fucking admirable. mike babcock left the red wings organization absolutely in tatters, and i think, honestly, it was always steve yzerman’s plan to go home to detroit and rebuild. if there is anyone who is going to strike absolute gold this draft year, it is steve yzerman. watch the red wings, i am telling you, keep a beat on detroit. they are going to be good. its not an if, its a when.

(real quick on the knights situation: mcphee was the first gm of the knights, and was also president of hockey ops at the same time, and then in 2019 mcphee said he was just gonna focus on his job as president, but we all know hes still an integral part of the way the knights are run, and he and mccrimmon have kinda been building the knight together since the beginning anyway bc mccrimmon was originally mcphee’s agm. so. thats why theyre together)

as for coaches, it’s very simple. rod brind’amour (canes), sheldon keefe (leafs, yes im biased, we’ll get into it), jared bednar (avs), joel quenneville (panthers), jon cooper (lightning), barry trotz (isles), and mike sullivan (pens).

(disclaimer: obviously coaching is done as a team, and assistants and specialist coaches and staff are all very important, but the head coaches set the tone and organize the entire machine, if you will, so im going to be talking about head coaches as if theyre the entire coaching staff. its just easier this way im sorry)

im gonna just start with the easy ones: barry trotz, mike sullivan, and jon cooper have been in the league for years. cooper is the longest tenured coach in the nhl for a reason (again, just look at the tampa bay lightning. its the gm’s job to make the coach’s life easier and the coach’s job to make the gm’s life easier, and this is one of the prime examples of it in the league. its dope as hell tbh), trotz is one of the most respected coaches in the hockey world for a reason (the caps lost something when he walked. they just did. and now the isles are absolute hell to play against and that is largely the coaching of barry trotz, you legit cannot tell me im wrong), and while mike sullivan does have his faults, i think hes found a way to please both management and the crosby-and-malkin unit, which has been really really fucking hard to do. he also led the pens to back to back cups, which you can never really uh. ignore. lmao. so theres those three.

i know less about bednar, but again, another example of the coach and gm working together to make each others’ lives easier. sakic gets bednar the players and staff he needs to make the avs better, and bednar takes those players and staff and makes them into the absolute giant they are. it wouldve been really, really easy to fuck up makar’s development, or bowen byram’s, or sam girard’s, or ryan graves’s, or jost or mackinnon or rantanen’s, but he hasn’t, and he hasn’t just given up on players like burakovsky or kadri, he’s given them new life as players and made them more successful.

joel quenneville is the reason the bl/ckh/wks were a legacy team point blank period. sure they had the talent, sure the gm drafted well, but you do not get the legacy of the chicago bl/ckh/wks without joel quenneville. they fired him on a whim and it absolutely was a mistake, and the moment the cats hired him i literally out loud said ‘oh no’ because i knew exactly what that meant for the leafs and their position in the standings. the panthers are underrated generally, yes, but they would not be the powerhouse they are this season without quenneville. just look at q’s wiki stats. he’s absolutely unbeilevable. he won the jack adams in fucking 2000, before he’d even won any of the cups with the h/wks. i cant tell you what kind of a locker room coach this guy is, but i can tell you his teams win and win convincingly, and that firing him was the biggest mistake the h/wks have made in years.

whenever i talk about coaching, i talk about rod brindamour and sheldon keefe in the same breath every single time because there is no match, and i mean none, for the love inside those locker rooms. the avs, maybe, but my point stands. keefe and brindamour fucking BLEED team spirit, it is at the center of their coaching styles and their teams are good because of it specifically. marner and matthews are good, yes, and they always have been, but they have surpassed all expectation and then some with keefe. aho, teravainen, and svechnikov are good, yes, and they always have been, but they have surpassed all expectation with brindamour. brindamour and keefe have both hashtag played the game, so they Get It, and more than that, theyve grown and changed their understanding of the game as the game itself has changed, and so they can command the authority of their teams while also connecting to them on a really deep level. i should make a note here that keefe and brindamour are incredibly, deeply hockey smart, and that they are also just technically good coaches, skimming their wiki or nhl dot com articles will tell you that, but what makes them stand out to me is that their players would fucking die for them. the leafs would go through the end boards for keefe, the canes would do the same for brindamour. travis dermott said it best when keefe got promoted: boys wanna play for him. beyond that, the management skills both brindamour and keefe have are just frankly amazing (the amount of ego keefe specifically has to manage in the leafs locker room is astounding and he does it so incredibly brilliantly). the leafs and the canes are talented, yes, and would have been talented regardless of who was coaching them. but brindamour and keefe bring both of those teams from talented to exceptional, and the true mark of an amazing coach is not only how many games their team wins, but how they win them, and the leafs and canes have been winning games this year for and because of each other, and that starts with their coaches. what makes a great coach, to me, is not the talent on the team (though that certainly helps), but how the coach manages his players no matter who they are, and how he helps those players grow not just as players as people, because no matter how much pure stats people and twitter hockey dudebros wanna deny it, that shit does affect on ice play, and it does make good players better.

so theres my analysis of the best coaches and gms of the nhl, im so sorry this is so long, oh my god. also, shoutout to @bishops--knifetrick for sending me an ask about this literally a month ago that i just never answered, sorry for that, but here i hope this is good. :)

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 19

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on, on Mayans M.C., are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

19.

When they got back home in the evening, Nina had Angel check the house for cockroaches before she would step inside. He more or less had to carry her through the door, and into the bedroom; because she was convinced, she was seeing creepy crawlies everywhere.

Quickly shedding her clothes, leaving her in her panties and a soft tank top to sleep in; she finally kicked off her shoes, and jumped into bed.

“You do realize they can climb in to the bed, right?”, Angel smiled at her, as she sat hugging her knees by the headboard. Nina pulled off the covers, sprang out of the bed, and shook her whole body; checking for unwelcome guests on her skin. “What do you call that dance?”.

“You can call it my-girlfriend-doesn’t-want-to-get-eaten-alive”, Nina sneered.

“Well, keep it up. It’s making all the best parts of you jiggle”, Angel said.

Nina looked down at her half-naked body, before shooting him a dirty look.

“Well I guess I’m not sleeping in here…”, she grunted, and went into the living room to sit on the couch; pulling her legs up under her.

Angel joined her a few moments later, having grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge.

“It was probably just the one roach. They’re harmless, anyway. Like houseflies”, he smiled, and sat down; handing her one of the bottles.

“They’re not! They got bacteria all over them”, Nina said, and made a gagging noise.

“We could get a cat… that might keep them away”, Angel shrugged, and lit a cigarette. He leaned back on the couch, and stretched out his arm, to let Nina snuggle up against him.

“I’ve got asthma…”, she muttered, and nabbed the smoke from him; taking a deep draw. Angel chuckled a little.

“Are you allergic, though?”, he asked.

“I don’t think so”, Nina replied. “You’d get a cat with me?”. She took a swig of her beer, and looked at him through her lashes.

“Yeah… It would take care of the roaches, and you’d have company while I’m on runs, or down south for a few days”, Angel said. “If you don’t kill it too soon, maybe I’ll even think about putting a few babies in you”.

Nina almost choked on her beer.

“Kids?”, she coughed.

“Yeah. You’d look hot waddling around here with a round belly; tits all big and nice…”, Angel smirked.

“You don’t think my tits are nice?”, Nina pouted playfully.

Angel let one hand wander down to cup her left breast.

“Your tits are one of the best things I ever saw…”, he said. He gave her mound a gentle squeeze, and Nina slapped his hand away with a laugh.

“You realize there’s more to kids than just the pregnancy, right…?”, she said. “And it’s not your body that’s gonna be stretched into an unrecognizable blob!”.

Angel narrowed his eyes at her.

“You don’t want my kids?”, he asked warily.

“That’s not what I’m saying… but when I asked you if you had any, you seemed to think you’d be better off without", Nina said.

“No, I said they’d be better off without me. But maybe you changed my mind…”. He gave her a sly smile.

“It’s just a big step after knowing each other for… what? A month?”, Nina said.

“Yeah, but I don’t want no one else than you. Ever”, Angel said. “And if I’m gonna have a family, it's gonna be with you". Nina felt her heart skip a beat.

“I do want that… with you”, she said, and chewed her lower lip to keep from smiling too broadly. “But maybe we should start with a cat”.

Angel grinned, and took the beer and cigarette from her. He set both their bottles on the coffee table, and stubbed out the smoke.

“I’m not saying I wanna knock you up right away; but that don’t mean we can’t practice…”. He stroked his hand up the inside of her thigh; and she felt goosebumps forming all over her body. Just before his fingertips reached her clothed folds, she was already forgetting all about the roach; and simply closed her eyes, and let out a sigh of pleasure. Angel kept his fingers there, unmoving; and merely let the tips ghost her warmth. He leaned in, and brushed his lips against hers, before kissing his way down to her neck. Nina tilted her head to give him better access.

“Angel…”, she breathed.

“Uh huh?”, he mumbled against her skin. The feeling of his hot breath was delicious.

“Please…”.

He nuzzled his nose against the shell of her ear; but still, his hand didn’t move.

“What do you want?”, he whispered, and stroked her tongue against her neck again, before kissing it.

“I want you fingers inside me… Please, papi…”, Nina pleaded.

“Fuck, I love you”, Angel laughed. Before she knew it, he’d pulled down her panties; and flicked them away. They landed over one of the bottles, and they both laughed a little; before Angel got back to business; running his hand up her inner thigh. His fingertips gently stroked against Nina’s clit, sending small shivers through her body. Then he moved between her labia; and finding her wet and wanting, he slid his middle and ring finger inside her. He moved them back and forth, and all Nina could hear was the sounds of both of their breathing – hers heavy, and his controlled – and her slick against Angel’s fingers. She began moving her hips, but he put his free arm around her; holding her in place. “Nah, querida. Let me do the work”.

“Fuck…”, Nina croaked.

Slowly moving his fingers in and out of her, while keeping them perfectly straight, Angel was drawing out Nina’s pleasure. He wasn’t ready to push her over the edge yet, in spite of how much she struggled to get him to rub against either her clit or her g-spot.

“You feel that?”, Angel breathed against her neck. “You like my fingers in you?”.

“Yes”, Nina whimpered. “Please, more…”.

“Tell me how it feels”.

Nina swallowed thickly.

“Your fingers are so warm… Fuck, it feels so good, the way you’re stroking me inside”.

Angel curled his fingers slightly, making dabbing motions with them inside her tunnel.

“You wanna come like this?”, he said. His free hand moved up under her top, and cupped her left breast; tweaking her nipple, just enough to make it a little painful, and add to the sinful pleasure his other hand was bringing her.

“Yes… please, I wanna come. Make me…”. She couldn’t finish the sentence, simply moaned, and leaned back against Angels firm chest, and let herself be enveloped in him.

“Ok, mami. I got you”, he smiled.

Pulling her over to sit between his legs with her knees over his, so that she was spread for him, Angel then clamped his hand firmly onto her. The two fingers inside Nina curled up, and he pressed the heel of his hand against her clit; before moving his hand up and down. At first, he went slow, still playing with her nipple, but then he moved his hand down to press against the area just above her pubic bone. By now, Nina knew what his plan was, and she braced herself for the inevitable; leaning back against Angel’s chest, as if she was in an airplane seat, and she was about to lift off. He sped up, and pressed harder at her lower belly, while the hand working on her vagina clenched in pulsating movements. Fire began spreading in her limbs, and Nina had to dig her nails into the leather of the couch on each side of Angel’s hips, to keep from feeling like she was falling off the planet. Her legs began shaking, and she whimpered; tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

“You ever come like this?”, Angel breathed against her neck.

“No one ever… I haven’t…”, Nina tried, but couldn’t control her breath enough to reply cohesively.

“We’ll, you’re gonna”.

His hand began forcefully thrusting up and down, making heat spread from her groin throughout her body; and soon Nina heard a wail, as if from a feral creature. She realized the sound came from her own mouth, as her entire body tensed up, and her walls clamped down hard on Angel’s fingers; and her climax gushed out of her in short bursts.

“Fuck! Oh my god!”, she wailed. Her body was shaking, and tears streamed down her cheeks from the intensity of the chocks spreading through her.

Angel slowed down his movements, but didn’t stop them all at once; avoiding Nina falling from her high into nothingness. As her body began relaxing, he gently withdrew his fingers, and stuck them in his mouth; sucking them clean.

“Good girl. You did so good, querida…”, he rasped. “Come here”. He pulled her up to sit sideways on his lap, and cradled her in his arms. Nina felt his erection through his jeans, but didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. She looked almost apologetically at him through a haze of happy tears.

“ I can’t move…”, she croaked.

Angel smiled softly at her.

“It’s ok… But is it ok if I take care of this?”, he asked, and looked down at his erection.

“Inside me…”, she whimpered.

“You sure?”.

“Uh huh”, Nina replied.

“Yeah… practicing doesn’t suck”, Nina croaked after a few moments. Angel laughed, and cupped her face; turning it to kiss her deeply.

Angel nodded, and kissed her gently but greedily; then laid her down on her side on the couch, still with her legs draped over his thighs. He opened his pants, then lifted his hips to pull them down, and laid down behind her; before lining himself up, and entering Nina with a groan. He instantly began ramming in to her.

“You feel so good”, Angel panted. Nina could hardly reply, answering only in small moans. “You’re so fucking perfect around me…".

She simply laid there and let him take what he needed. She had no strength to move with him, but Angel seemed to be ok with that; he simply grabbed her hip, and chased his release with forceful thrusts. Soon, another orgasm washed over her; taking her almost by surprise. With the help of Nina’s quivering walls, Angel came just after, with a loud groan.

---

It was a weird day at the clubhouse, the next day. None of the Mayan’s seemed to have any work to do around the yard, and were in stead spending time chatting up the female hangarounds. Even Taza had a pretty girl on his lap, and was letting her whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

Coco gave a busty brunette a light peck on the cheek, before leaving her on the couch, and walking over to the bar, where Bishop was nursing a cigarette, while overseeing EZ’s stocking of the liquor-shelves. He’d insisted he wanted them alphabetically, but then changed his mind last minute, and told the prospect to go by alcohol percent. Camille and Nina were both stood at the end of the bar, grinning at the spectacle. Nina had decided to move on from Camille’s flirting with Angel. Camille was trying to find her place in the family, and Nina thought it better to help her, than be angry.

“I got nothing. Only that she likes unicorns and vodka”, Coco said. Bishop gave him a hard look, before looking at Camille.

“Sweetheart, could you go check the stock-room for Meríngues Lager?”, he said.

“Sure thing!”, Camille smiled brightly, and winked at the president.

Once the red-head was out of earshot, Bishop looked at Coco.

“Think before you speak, asshole”, he snarled.

“Sorry, Bish’”, Coco replied. “What the fuck is Meríngues Lager?”.

“It doesn’t exist. She should be a while”, Bishop said. Nina noticed EZ stifling a smile at Bishop’s diversion-method.

“Are you all rat-hunting?”, Nina asked, and lit a smoke.

“Yeah”, Bishop said. “Riz is at Vicky’s, talking to the girls there; but we do background checks on all of them, before they get hired, so I don’t think he’ll find anything”.

“You should have sent me there”, Gilly said; having just come over from having chatted up a new hangaround in the corner. “Maria over there didn’t move into town until after Nina came down from Charming. She’s in the clear”.

Nina sighed; though she wasn’t sure whether it was from frustration, or from relief that so far, none of the women around her, would need to meet Palo’s gun.

She hated the thought of a snitch. The intense anger against anyone who would go against the club, was ingrained in her – SAMCRO’s experiences with people who went behind their backs, had been devastating to her family in Charming – but she still couldn’t get behind letting someone die for her.

“We’ll find her, mija”, Bishop said, having mistaken her expression.

“Yeah… sure”, Nina said.

“So, what’s the next step, jefe?”, Gilly asked. Bishop sighed.

“Keep… ploughing your way through the suspects”, he said, receiving sniggers from the two bikers. “Just wrap it up. I don’t need another chlamydia-epidemic on my hands”.

Nina winced, and turned her attention to the ashtrays that needed emptying. Gilly and Coco went to continue their questioning the suspects, and Bishop got up, and walked towards templo; nodding at Taza to follow him.

Nina shot at look at the VP, who gave the girl on his lap a short pat on the butt, to get her to stand up. He winked at Nina, before lighting a cigarette, and following Bishop.

It had ended up just as she suspected it would. She’d become deeply fond of the man, and the thought of his secret as her way out of her problems with Palo nagged her. Palo must have known about Taza and his brother, because he’d killed Davíd over the fact that he was gay. But he hadn’t used it against the Mayan VP – probably because it would reveal the truth about his brother, and ruin his own reputation.

“Nina?”, Angel said; catching her off guard. She had stood deep in thought for quite a while; and hadn’t noticed him coming in.

“Huh?”, she said.

“Something wrong?”. Angel was studying her face, as if he was trying to read her mind.

“No… I’m just thinking about something. It’s not important”, Nina muttered.

“I can tell it is; your face is all weird”, Angel said. He turned to look at Coco and Gilly, who were waiting for him by the door. “I’ll catch up to you”, he said, and led Nina towards the back door, so they could talk in private. “Tell me”.

Nina leaned against the wall, and folded her arms in front of her. She needed to know the club's stance on Taza’s situation, but also didn’t want to out the VP.

“You’re gonna think it’s weird”, she said.

“Probably. Your brain is a bit funny”, Angel chuckled. Nina scowled at him, but couldn’t help but smile.

“Ok… It’s just; you know about Tig’s old lady, right?”, she said.

“The SAMCRO VP?”, Angel asked. Nina nodded. “I mean I know she’s not… like you”.

“As in…”, Nina said.

“She has a dick…”, Angel said bluntly. “It’s not a secret”.

“No… but that’s only because the club decided that they weren’t going to keep being all 1950’s about gender and sexuality; and he could go public with Venus”, Nina said.

“I guess”, Angel said. “What’s this about?”.

Nina paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. The situation with Tig and Venus wasn’t like Taza's. Venus was a woman, she just also happened to be trans. Nina decided to change her approach before speaking again.

“What would you think if, like, Coco and Gilly turned out to be hooking up?”.

Angel widened his eyes.

“Did you catch them spooning? ‘Cuz they do that when they get high sometimes…”.

“No, I…”, Nina began, before shaking her head. “Never mind”.

Angel placed his hand on her cheek.

“No, come on… Whatever this is, it’s bothering you”, he said.

She sighed heavily.

“I guess, I’m just trying to… figure out what you think about people being gay… or whatever”.

Angel frowned for a moment. Nina could see the wheels turning in his head, from the furrow between his brows.

“I guess… I don’t think about it”, he finally replied. “Whatever makes you happy, as long as no one gets hurt, right?”.

Nina chewed her lips.

“But what is it was someone in the club…”, she said, before quickly reiterating. “Like a hangaround, or someone like that”.

“Like I said. People can do what they want”, Angel said.

“Doesn’t the club have rules about it though?”, Nina muttered. He frowned for a moment longer.

“I guess… I don’t know. It’s never been an issue”.

“Huh…”, Nina said.

Angel cupped her face with both his hands, and made her look at him.

“Querida, are you trying to ask me to have a threesome with another man?”, he asked. “’Cuz I don’t like sharing…”.

“No…!”, Nina said exasperatedly. She punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow!”, Angel chuckled. Nina scowled at him again.

“I’m just trying to figure out club rules”, she said. “If I’m staying, I wanna make sure I actually agree with them. What if the club decided to kick someone out, or even hurt someone for being gay? Would you get behind that”.

“I mean… no”, he said. “You can’t change who you are”.

She hadn’t really gotten the info she wanted. Angel seemed oblivious to the problematic history of MC homophobia; but Nina was happy that he didn’t have a problem with gay people himself. He might even back Taza if the truth was revealed about his relationship with Davíd.

Angel snaked his arms around her, and held her close.

“You wanna tell me where this is coming from?”.

“It’s nothing. Really”, Nina sighed. “Just forget I asked…You know, you never told me; what did Bishop want to talk to you about the other night, after the meeting?”. She hoped distracting Angel would get him off the subject.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you”, he chuckled.

“Come on. What?”, Nina insisted. A smile spread across Angel’s face.

“He wanted to apologize for all that shit with Daniella”, he said.

“Seriously?”, Nina asked. “You’re right. I don’t believe you!”.

“It’s true. He was like; Angel. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have made you do that. You’re one of the people in this club I trust the most. I’ve been thinking maybe I should promote you to…”.

“Bullshit”, Nina cut him off. Angel grinned and shrugged.

“Ok, maybe he didn’t quite go there”, he said. “But he did say he was sorry”. He pecked her lips. “I gotta go. I’ve got a 2,5 tons of metal needing to be sorted”.

Nina got on her toes, and stole another kiss, before Angel left the clubhouse to join the others.

---

Preparing for a biker party while under lockdown showed to be difficult. Nina couldn’t go out shopping on her own, and both Bishop and Angel didn’t want to let her leave the yard at all.

In the end, Nina had to rely on Chucky and Camille to go shopping for the things that were needed. The odd pair were supplied with thorough lists and a credit card each; and Nina in stead focused on trying to remain calm at the prospect of attending her own execution party, two days later.

She cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom, and then went to wash the floor of templo. Bishop chuckled and shook his head, when she tried to make him and Taza leave the room, because they were in the way.

“We have to finish the details of how we’re going to get the snitch…”, he began.

“Don’t finish that sentence. I don’t want to know”, Nina muttered.

“Let’s give the woman some space”, Taza said, and Bishop sighed defeatedly.

“Fine… I’ll go have a chat with that girl you had spread over your lap earlier”, he said. “I’m not sure you got everything from her”.

“Right… Taking one for the team; huh?”, Taza grinned.

“Well, she could be hiding something in her bra”, Bishop said, and left the room.

Taza lingered behind, and Nina wet the mop, to begin her cleaning.

“Come have a seat”, Taza said to her. She wiped the mop across the floor, and shook her head.

“No, I have to finish this…”, she muttered.

Taza grabbed her by the elbow.

“Nina… Take a break. Too much shit happens in this room for it ever to be clean”.

She let out a deep breath, and leaned the mop against the wall; before following Taza over to the table. The VP took his own chair, and gestured for Nina to sit down next to him.

“Wow… I get a seat by the table?”, she smirked.

“Well, you seemed at home by the table in Charming”, Taza said. “Just promise you won’t get any girl-cooties on it”. They grinned at each other.

“What’s up?”, Nina asked.

“You know what’s up”, Taza said. “In two days’ time, we’ll be letting a woman get murdered…”.

Nina swallowed thickly.

“I know… Fuck, I wish I could find a different way to fix this mess”.

“You know how to fix it, sweetheart”, Taza said.

She met his eyes, and felt a pang of pain in her heart.

“No… I’m not letting you do that”, she said. “I know how MC’s work. I don’t want them to…”.

“You don’t know that I will get hurt. They might just kick me out”, Taza said.

“Might isn’t good enough!”, Nina snapped. Taza frowned at her. “I’m sorry… I hate that someone might die in my place, for what I did; but whoever it is, is a rat. They’ve betrayed the club… I’d rather see themgone than you”. She was surprised and slightly ashamed at her ability to reason for Bishop’s plan.

Taza took her hand, and squeezed it.

“You’re loyal to a fault, Nina… Don’t let it overshadow the righteousness in you”, he said.

“Maybe I’m not as good as you think”, Nina muttered. “I did kill an unarmed man”.

“You had your reasons… And save for Davíd, Palo’s blood-family has always been full of shitheads, who deserve getting their brains blown out”.

They shared another laugh, before Nina got to her feet. She let her palm brush over the table.

“This is a nice table…”, she said. “But I’m glad I’m not usually seated by it. It seems like it comes with a lot of hurt”.

“It does…”, Taza nodded. “But it also comes with a lot of love and a family that has your back… I think you’d fit right in at one of these seats.

“I don’t think the cut would go with my shoes”, Nina shrugged with a smile.

Taza opened his arms, and she leaned in to give him a warm hug.

“We love you, mija”, the VP said. “I love you”.

“Taza… Seriously, man. If I find you two like this again, it will be the cage”. Angel was standing in the doorway, grinning at them. Taza released Nina, and smiled.

“I had to try…”, he jested, and went to leave the room; patting Angel’s back as he passed him.

Nina went over to wrap her arms around Angel’s waist.

“Are you done for the day?”, she asked.

“Yeah, but we’re talking about setting up a card game. I was gonna stick around…”, Angel said warily.

“Are you asking for permission to go play with your friends?”, Nina chuckled.

Angel frowned, and straightened his back.

“I don’t need your permission…”, he grunted, and smacked her butt playfully. “You’re forgetting who’s in charge in this relationship”.

Nina batted her lashes, and bit her lip.

“You’re right, papi… You’re the boss”, she said.

“Damn right!”, Angel said. “So can we stay?”.

“Yeah, we can stay”, Nina chuckled. “But what about the rat-hunting?”.

Angel led her out of the room, with a hand resting on her behind.

“The guys think they have the suspects narrowed down”, he said. “We have a couple of girls sticking around for the game. Just need to ply them with enough tequila to get them talking”.

They went back into the bar-area, and Angel stole a deep kiss from Nina, before letting her get behind the counter, to get the drinks flowing.

As Angel, Creeper, Coco and Gilly got their game started, a group of women hovered over them. Angel sent Nina a panty-ruining smile, before clinking his bottle with an raven-haired girl, who was trying to catch his attention. Nina knew the deal, and she didn’t mind. Angel could look at the menu, as long as he ate at home; and boy did that man know how to eat.

Camille came through the door with bags of snacks and food, and Nina went to help her put it away.

“Are they having a party?”, the red-head asked, when she saw the card-game setup. She sounded disappointed at the possibility of not having been invited to a club event.

“It’s just a couple of rounds of poker”, Nina said.

“Oh…”, Camille said. “Can anyone play?”.

“I think it’s just the guys”.

“But what about the girls that are hanging out with them?”.

“Hangarounds… like you and me”, Nina smiled.

She pulled a bag of dried apricots out of one of the bags, and whistled at Taza, who was deep in conversation with Hank in a corner. He looked up, and she threw the treats in his direction. He caught the bag, looked at it, and laughed, shaking his head.

Camille frowned.

“You’re not like them… like us”, she said. Nina looked at confusedly at her.

“What do you mean?”.

“You’re just… different”, Camille said.

“I mean, yeah, I’m sort of the den-mother; but that doesn’t mean anything other than the fact that I have more shit to pick up than the rest of you”. She pulled a beer out of the fridge, and handed it to Camille. “If you wanna join them, go ahead. I can handle this”.

Camille smiled brightly, and sauntered over to the table; smiling at the Mayans currently trying to win each other’s hard-earned money.

After putting away the party-supplies, Nina went over to the table with another round of beers for the guys. Angel slipped a hand between her legs from behind, and stroked his fingertips in circles on the inside of her knee.

“Focus on your game. Gotta pay that exterminator”, Nina smirked, and bent down to kiss him.

The women around the table looked at her with envious but not unkind eyes. Angel was off limits, that was clear; and even the raven-haired beauty took a step further away from him.

Nina went to get back behind the bar, when Angel grabbed her hand.

“Stay…”, he pleaded; and leaned back to offer her a seat on his lap.

“I don’t wanna distract you”, Nina chuckled.

“Please, Nina. Distract him”, Gilly said. “He’s cleaning me out”.

Nina narrowed her eyes.

“Fine…”, she said. Gilly sprang over to grab her a chair, and set it down between his own and Angel’s.

“How’s your poker face, niña?”, Coco asked.

“Terrible”, Nina lied.

“Deal her in”, Creeper exclaimed.

---

Angel chuckled, and gathered the cars to re-deal. Coco got behind the bar, and grabbed a beer; and set it down in front of her.

“Thank you kindly”, Nina smiled, and took a swig at the drink. She met Camille’s astounded eyes, and sent her a friendly smile. “Alright. Time to make you all poor”.

A few hours later, Nina had cleaned out. She grabbed a wad of ones, and folded them out to use them as a fan.

“Momma’s going to Vegas!”, she whooped.

“Where the fuck did you learn to play poker like that?”, Creeper asked.

“I used to have a fat, jolly uncle named Bobby Elvis”, Nina said. “He did gigs in different casino’s… Taught me everything I know”.

Nina found herself whisked away giggling, and managed to wave a goodbye at Camille, before the door to the clubhouse slammed behind them.

Angel was looking miffed at having lost big to a girl, and Nina decided to try to cheer him up. As the other Mayans turned their attentions to the girls still hanging around the table, she leaned in to whisper in his ear; while letting her hand wander up his inner thigh.

“Why don’t we take my newfound fortune home, spread it all on the bed; and roll around in it naked?”.

She let her fingertips brush against his crotch under the table, and Angel jumped slightly.

“I’m in”, he said, and sprang to his feet; before looking at his friends with a shit-eating grin on his face “See you losers later. We’re gonna go home and fuck!”.

---

[gumnut-logic]

The world was blurry as he let his head slide on one hand and stared out through the kitchen window. Gordon was in the pool, swimming his morning laps. The sun had yet to rise and Virgil had broken several laws of physics rising himself. This time of day should not exist. But then it didn’t, because it wasn’t day yet because there was no sun!

But no, supersonic big brother wanted to do some special training today. Training that for some reason had been scheduled at sunrise.

It was possibly important, likely scheduled just to get his ass out of bed at this godawful hour. Occasionally there were some issues with having your brother in command. Brotherly love only went so far, brotherly snark had more mileage, and Scott did have that twist of his lips when he announced the schedule.

Four pairs of eyes had immediately turned to him and his return glare had been insufficient to deflect the amusement that followed.

But it was okay. It was fine. He had his own skill drills up his sleeve. Two am would be convenient for him next time, definitely. After all, they all had to keep their skill sets up, didn’t they?

In the meantime, it was black coffee and repeated attempts to focus on Mateo. Mateo was distinctly blurry, and dark and...

“Hey, Virg!” Alan whacked him on the back.

His face nearly ended up in his coffee. “Alan? What the hell?”

“And good morning to you, too, big bro. Ready for this morning’s run?”

He stared at his bright and peppy, yes, peppy, youngest brother. Augh. “Go away.”

“Aww, did the big bear have to get out of bed a little early?”

“Alan...”

“C’mon, Virg, it’s gonna be fun. A race around the island, wind in your hair, blood pumping...it’s gonna be awesome.”

Virgil stared at him, his brain slowly picking up that something wasn’t quite right. “Alan, why aren’t you comatose?”

“What do you mean, big bro?”

A slow blink. “You hate mornings almost as much as I do. Who are you and what have you done with my little brother?” His eyelids drooped all of their own volition.

“It’s called prepared, bro. I’m in it to win it.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “Are you on something? Because if you are, Scott’s going to kill you, and once I’m awake, I’ll resuscitate you so I can kill you again.”

“That’s violence, bro. It’s cool, I promise.”

An arched eyebrow that almost hurt. “What did you do, Alan?”

“Nothing. Well, nothing you aren’t already doing.”

“You drank coffee.”

“Noooooooo.”

“What did you do?”

“A little caffeine is all.”

The arched eyebrow flipped into a frown. “How much?”

“Enough.”

Virgil’s back straightened. “Alan.”

“I’m fine, bro, I promise. I know what I’m doing. I’m not stupid.” A blond frown. “Besides, it’s not like you don’t do the same with your coffee after coffee after coffee technique.”

Virgil’s lips thinned, but to be honest, the kid was right, he didn’t have a leg to stand on. But... “You’re not yet an adult, Alan.”

“Yet, I take the responsibilities of an adult, Virgil.”

“Your body isn’t fully mature!”

“Well, thanks for that, Doctor Virgil!”

“You have to look after yourself!”

“Hard to do anything else when I have four brothers mother-henning me all the time!”

“We worry about you!”

“Well, don’t! I can look after myself.”

“Alan!”

“Virgil!”

“Hey! What the hell is going on here?!”

Virgil found himself looming over his little brother, one brain cell after another slowly catching up with what the hell was going on. Bright blue eyes were staring up at him defiantly, his little brother’s shoulders tight and fists clenched at his sides.

Virgil forced his own fists to uncurl. There was a reason why he preferred not to see this time of day. Disturbed sleep disturbed his calm, his control, and things like this happened.

Scott loomed over the both of them and Virgil took a step back, slumping back onto his seat and hulking over his coffee almost in a pout. “Better ask Alan, he’s the one being stupid.”

“Speak for yourself, Virgil.”

“Both of you, shut it.” Scott could glare with the best of them, but Virgil had exhausted what little energy he had and ignored him. “Alan, dosed himself with caffeine.”

“Virgil!”

He could feel the laserbeams shooting out of Scott’s eyes switching targets and landing on Alan. There was no satisfaction, just blergh. Here we go.

And sure enough, Scott started in on his little brother. There was, of course, shouting. Virgil idly wondered how come Scott got to yell and he didn’t. But then Virgil didn’t really like yelling anyway.

Coffee. Its warmth drifted down his throat and spread into his bones. Oh god, he needed it. Maybe a second one after this? But then the word ‘caffeine’ came up amongst the explosions beside him and he reconsidered. No need to become a target himself.

He let his foggy mind drift a little. It was all his fault really. He could have gone to bed early, but he had made the mistake of getting into a discussion online with an engineering idiot. The topic had become heated, chemical formulas launched like bombs and laced with reactive equations enough to take out half the engineering community. In the end, he’d thrown a hissy fit and sat up to three am writing up his argument. He’d chucked it onto his blog with a great deal of satisfaction and was looking forward to rubbing it in the man’s face.

Just as soon as he could boot his brain.

Coffee, give me strength.

Gordon wandered in at some point, a damp towel around his neck. Being Gordon, he prodded the conflagration in progress and got burnt. The argument became three sided.

Virgil considered snoozing on the counter.

Then he hit on the idea that he could possibly sneak back to bed. He stood up slowly.

Brains bounded into the room, tablet in hand. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Brilliant, so b-brilliant!”

The argument came to a sudden halt, four pairs of eyes turning towards the engineer.

The engineer didn’t notice, eyes glued to his tablet. Max bounded in behind him, whirring excitedly. It was the robot who prevented the distracted Brains from walking into the kitchen counter.

“Oh, thank you, M-Max.” His eyes didn’t leave the tablet. “Did you see the p-polymer ratio? Amazing! Such elegance. You know, I am quite d-disap-pointed that I didn’t think of this myself. The applications are going to b-be in-numerable.”

The distraction was enough to break the fuel lines of the argument and Scott settled for a final threat, Alan a final glare and Gordon, a snort of derision. The moment to escape was lost and Virgil slumped where he sat.

Damn.

“Virgil, you going to eat before we run?”

Alan was right, Scott mother-henned.

“Maybe.” Ugh, c’mon coffee kick in. He needed operational braincells.

Scott was peering closely at him. “Earth to Virgil.”

“Shut up, Scott. You got me up at the ass end of the day, I’m here. Don’t expect much more.”

His brother grinned, and Virgil had the odd urge to thump him. Just because this was his element, didn’t mean he had to be a smart ass about it. “Your next physical is going to be hell.”

The grin faltered. Aah, that’s better. Hmm, perhaps his brain was slowly booting. Go, coffee.

“Virgil! You h-have to see these equations. They are brilliant!”

What? Brains’ tablet shifted the remains of his coffee to one side and Virgil found himself staring at a series of numbers that made little sense at this time of the morning. “Brains, looks great. Can I review them later? I’m not all here yet.”

The engineer didn’t appear to hear him. “Look at the polymer decay to reaction ratio! This is a self-healing polymer!”

Huh? He frowned and forced himself to focus. The appropriate neurons clicked into place in his brain and suddenly what he was seeing made sense.

Shit.

He grabbed the tablet, eyeing the equations and spinning calculations in his head. Brains was right. This was perfect. The polymer would be able to self-heal with the application of a mild electrical current. Give it a pattern to follow and it would populate and keep it populated, even after disturbance.

“Did you discover this, Brains?” He frowned. There was something familiar about this. Maybe they had discussed it recently.

“Oh, no, this is V. T. Green. The man is brilliant.” There was that word again. Brilliant.

But it still took a second for it all to click into place.

V. T. Green was his blog. V. T. Green was his pseudonym online, used for obvious reasons to keep his identity hidden. The blog had been for amusement originally. A place to stash his favourite music and art, but at some point, he had found himself venturing into engineering circles and getting into discussion with the online community. It made for interesting discourse and he was able to keep up to date with some of the latest innovations. Not that he could share his own much and IR was well ahead of the majority of the world thanks to one Hiram Hackenbacker, but on occasion he would fiddle with ideas and make suggestions. It was also a great place to postulate out-there concepts.

The equations on Brains’ tablet were Virgil’s.

“Where did you get these?”

Brains was full of far too much energy for this time of the morning. “Green p-posted them during the night and they have h-hit the world by s-storm.”

“What?”

Brains frowned at him. “Haven’t you heard of V. T. Green, Virgil? He is o-one of the leading engineers on this p-planet. I have been f-following his b-blog for over a year n-now. You r-really m-must check it out.”

“Um, must have missed that one.”

“H-how could you m-miss such an important s-site? I know you k-keep up to date. The man is at the centre of a massive discussion about polymer cohesion and decay. Last night, Coloncous in Spain had the nerve to challenge him in the most ridiculous manner. I was so close to cutting him off myself, he was embarrassing us all, but Green replied with this. As expected, it is a brilliant explanation and Coloncous had no choice but to concede and crawl back into the hole he should never have come out of in the first place. He was a fool to think he could go up against Green. But this solution has so many possibilities. Do you realise this could be integrated into Two’s cahelium hull and she would be able to heal damage midflight? Four would be able seal herself in an underwater emergency. So brilliant.”

Virgil stared at the engineer. He didn’t think he had ever heard Brains say so many words in a row. And his stutter had disappeared two sentences in.

“What did you say about sealing Four, Brains?” Gordon’s ears had obviously pricked up at the mention of his ‘bird.

Brains’ attention was immediately drawn to the aquanaut, his verbal diarrhoea spilling all over Gordon and freeing Virgil.

Taking the opportunity, he pulled out his phone and brought up the website.

Shit!

He had notifications enough to clog his inbox. Due to the early hour, his phone was still on silent and he hadn’t heard any of them. A quick glance identified several prominent names and universities.

Shit. His eyes widened.

He glanced up at his family who were now eagerly discussing safety seals for Thunderbird Four. Even Scott’s eyes were wide and enthusiastic.

Shit.

Um.

Yeah.

He needed more coffee.

-o-o-o-

V.T. Green (one of my absolute favourites :D)

[norestwithoutlove]

Hi, I just finished reading to build a home (quite literally just then) and it was one of the best stories I’ve ever read. everything was so cohesive and beautifully done and has inspired me to do some writing of my own. How did you manage to keep track of minor details and plots throughout the book continuity wise, with such a large word count, thats something most authours cant do and it made it feel so much more personal and immersive. this fic was a wild ride, sorry if this sounds weird btw i dont usually do this.

Hey !! sorry this one took me a while to reply to ! thanks so much for this message it made me beam - i’m glad the fic made you want to use your own voice as well! writing is such a balm especially in times like these, so i hope you’re loving it.

holy shit i’ve just gone over this and this is a LONG answer so i’m very sorry for the essay in advance. regarding continuity and minor details:

from like very early days (essentially day one of writing) i had a very clear vision of where i wanted the fic to go, and what the major plot points were (the night of the fight aged 18 and everything which caused it, even that it would take place on the roof, sam’s overdose happening in the middle of dean’s drunk love confession, the chapter 59 love confession which leads to them FINALLY getting together happening in front of the fire and cas giving dean his poetry book, the dedication saying ‘to dean, i still do, and always will’. all of that was just sitting rotting all other thoughts in my mind and so i had to type it all out at the bottom of the word document to get it down and make sure i didn’t forget. here’s an excerpt of that very early days plan (the scene where dean comes out to sam in the hospital!!! one of my absolute favourites):

other things came later, like the wedding + concussion scene, and the scene where dean waits out in the treehouse all night, which honestly was SO cruel of me and really added to the tragedy of the chapter 38, 40, 42 arc. but yeah as with the above they sat in my brain just waiting for me to reach the appropriate part of the fic to type them up from VERY early days of the fic. opinions on this vary but i don’t like typing out the scenes that i really want to type out if i haven’t actually reached them in the fic’s construction, (does that make sense?  i’ve phrased it badly) because knowing i’m gonna get to write those scenes is what motivates me to actually write the scenes inbetween. i should probably switch this up a bit as everyone advises against this form of writing but also yeah changing routine is effort.

other things plotted in the fic came about in light of the events of the show. mary wasn’t originally gonna be such a distant mother but, as spn pushed that narrative of distance and withdrawal, i thought it would be weird for readers to read a fic which pushed the deified mary mother figure like early seasons spn. especially weird for the readers to read a deified mary fic when the mary they were watching on screen seemed to differ so drastically from the one in the story. so the mary-dean relationship (which was fortunately pretty ambiguous and stilted because of dean’s grief-brain in early chapters) had to change in tbah into the really complicated entity it became. honestly the formulation of that relationship is one of the things i was most proud of in the fic because it was so thorny and hard and felt tragically real for that reason. 

other things the progression of the show impacted: dean’s relationship with jack. obviously he couldnt be a nephilim in the tbah universe(!) so i had to consider another angle which would stilt his relationship with dean in the fic. considering the fact that in the show dean’s aversion to him came from a knot of grief, anger and dean’s own upbringing, i transplanted that idea onto the fic and said okay, but here it’s not about cas, it’s about john. dean untangles much of his own trauma with john through his relationship with jack in the symbols of his father he can find in his life: driving, fishing, and building. but also in the symbols of jimmy: cooking, talking, teaching. dean gets to choose between being a john or a jimmy to his son, but the question isn’t so simple, because people aren’t just symbols, and actually dean ends up being a dean to jack, which is perfect.

weirdly, i also think music helped with continuity. i had a few songs in my head at the beginning of the fic and they became like thematic seeds which could grow and make threads to be picked up throughout. i’d listen to these as i wrote, especially as i wrote the scenes i deemed the most significant. same thing with literature.

also thinking about the fic just became really comforting to me ! so i’d play major plot points in my head like a movie before i went to sleep, which meant by the time i got to writing them they’d had a lot of time to develop and pick up earlier themes of the fic. essentially all of the fic was written in light of the future of the fic, which really helped continuity and direction but also the weird tangled traumatised nature of time in the story. this figuring of time became really important because i think tangled traumatised time is essentially just the reality of grief-time. 

subconsciously i’m sure a lot of stuff bled through which was unintentional, the framing of events which repeat location (dean waiting in the treehouse all night as a teenager to say goodbye to cas before he leaves for university vs dean and cas going to the treehouse as adults and finding teens there who are saying goodbye to each other before leaving for university. confession 3 takes place a literal 10 years after confession 1. confession 1 comes from cas and happens on the roof just before he leaves for the uk, confession 2 comes from dean and happens drunken in the living room after dean has had an intense and ambiguous conversation/fight with his mother, confession 3 happens in the living room after dean has come out to his mother, confession 4 happens on the roof as castiel returns from the uk and repairing every sense of the rift confession 1 caused because this last confession ends in their engagement.)

once i realised this was happening i went back and combed through those scenes for lines to be repeated. an easy example of this is chapter 38//chapter 59. here’s a scene from chapter 38 as they enter the big white house:

and here’s them entering the house in chapter 59: 

i think it’s about trauma and repetition (freud has a theory about this, see Remembering, Repeating, and Working Through) in that we return to sites of trauma; trauma is reiterated in memory and in the material, but in every reiteration, we grow and heal and understand the trauma and ourselves better. it’s like an upward spiral: the first confession goes so badly, the second goes better but not good, the third good, the fourth goes wonderfully (dean’s narrative frames it as paradise: “maybe this is the sound of the trumpets on the other side”). so yeah, part of the ‘continuity’ of tbah is just a traumatised cycle of reiteration, and i say this in the nicest possible way, because these cycles of repetition are how we heal. deep down, i think that’s what the fic is all about.

tl;dr: i had a scrawl of a plan at the bottom of the word document i wrote tbah on, i thought about it a lot because it made me happy, i had a pretty clear vision of where things were going from the very opening chapter, and i was a very gay english lit student.

anyway thanks for the ask lovely i am SO sorry it resulted in the borderline novel of an answer.

[collapse-and-comfort]

Bonjour! I gotta say, I love your work, especially when it comes to sedation whumps. I know you've gotten several lately, but I can request a friend/whumpee one where the whumpee is afraid of needles? Thank you so much!!!

Bonjour! *gets the song from Beauty and the Beast stuck in my head* Thank you for this ask! I’ve combined this ask with another one about fear of needles, with the addition that the whumpee freaks out when approached with a needle. I feel like I am just so completely spoiled rotten! Anyway, I hope you enjoy, because I certainly did! There are five segments and they range from fluff to angst!

(CW: Needles, hospitalization, more needles)

I.

It was a standard inoculation, but Whumpee’s friend sat next to them without them even having to ask. Friend knew whumpee would be too embarrassed to do so. They didn’t make fun of Whumpee for being childish and they didn’t try to tell them “It’s just a shot.”

They felt Whumpee stiffen as a nurse entered the room. Though the nurse was personable, Whumpee remained tacit, only nodding or shaking their head when the nurse asked them questions. The nurse didn’t take offense.

“Yeah,” they said with a resigned but amiable sigh. “No one likes these.”

The nurse hitched up Whumpee’s sleeve and swabbed a spot on their upper arm. Whumpee’s breath hitched and they looked at Friend, who was ready with a warm, reassuring smile.

“Can you hold that there?” The nurse asked, nodding at the sleeve. Whumpee took a deep breath and did as they were asked.

When the nurse brought the needle into view, Friend saw the blood drain from Whumpee’s face and for a horrible moment, Friend thought Whumpee was going to be ill.

“Are you okay?” Friend asked as they leaned closer in what they hoped was a comforting gesture. The paper under them crinkled as they did. Whumpee swallowed, but didn’t answer. Worse yet, Whumpee was shaking.

“Could we get a sec?” Friend asked.

“Of course,” the nurse nodded in understanding, and stepped back.

“I’m right here, Whumpee,” Friend said as they slipped their hand into Whumpee’s. “I know this sucks. Just keep a hold of my hand and it’ll be over quick. I promise.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it felt like an eternity to Friend; they couldn’t imagine how it felt to Whumpee. The nurse gave fair warning before approaching and before administering the injection. Whumpee just gave a feeble nod before closing their eyes and burying their head in Friend’s shoulder. Friend made no complaint when Whumpee squeezed their hand so hard it hurt.

The nurse told them to take their time before they left the room. Slowly, Whumpee settled and they sat upright.

“Sorry,” they whispered.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Friend said.

Whumpee hung their head, regardless.

“Come on,” Friend said as they leaned their head toward Whumpee and smiled as winningly as they could. “I’ll get you a lollipop.”

Whumpee rested their forehead against Friend’s and laughed. It was stilted and breathy, but it sounded sweet to Friend.

II.

The table had been in the safe house since...well, nobody knew. But its sturdiness was never in question. Whumpee’s teammates put them on the table and gathered around; all of them knew what they were supposed to do. Medic was new to the team and they were especially thankful to have been assigned to such a cohesive unit.

“That’s gonna scar,” Whumpee groaned. They forced laughter from their lungs.

“Quit your bitching, you’ve had worse,” Friend told them as they placed a hand on one of Whumpee’s shoulders and smiled down at them. Whumpee let out another rough chuckle and looked up at their friend. Medic smiled to themself. They were grateful for the rapport Whumpee and Friend had.  

Medic sheared away Whumpee’s shirt and began to clean the wound. Friend and Whumpee kept up their banter until Medic approached with a suture kit. They apologized for not having anything to give Whumpee for the pain. Whumpee went still and fear worked its way into their features as they inched backward on the tabletop. Medic began to offer some reassuring words, but they stopped when they saw the seriousness that stole across Friend’s face.

“Hey, hey, hey. I know you don’t like needles, bud,” Friend said. “But we’ve got to get this done.”

Whumpee’s breath escalated and they looked pleadingly from Friend to Medic, then back to Friend. They shook their head no.

“You said it yourself, Friend,” Whumpee said as they tried to smile. It looked more like they were baring their teeth. “I’ve had worse.”

Medic could see Whumpee struggling to stay in control of themself, but they didn’t seem to be able to. They begged and shook, but they didn’t take their eyes off the implements in Medic’s hands. Friend looked equally helpless as they and the rest of the team were forced to keep them still.

“Shh,” Friend said. “Look at me, look at me. Just breathe.”

Whumpee had no choice but to listen to Friend and endure.

It seemed unfathomable to them that such a small piece of metal should cause so much anxiety in Whumpee; it certainly didn’t align with the impression they gave. Medic did their best to work quickly and confidently, though each time they pierced Whumpee’s flesh with the curved needle, Whumpee would flinch and let out a small, choked sound. Each time, the team -and Friend in particular -would look deeply saddened as they hushed Whumpee.

III.

Friend was trying to make sure things didn’t go from bad to worse. They sat next to Whumpee on one of the day room’s couches, trying to calm their friend. Whumpee had been tacit and on edge all day, but now they were outright agitated and Friend didn’t know if they’d be able to help Whumpee the way Whumpee had helped them during their hospitalization.

“Do you want me to get someone for you?” Friend ventured.

Whumpee’s response was something like a snarl as they stood a little too quickly. That drew the staff’s attention.

Shit! Friend thought. They tried to assuage Whumpee, but their doctor came over. Friend eyed the orderlies who had also taken notice. Please just let them help you if you won’t let me.

The tension grew. The doctor offered Whumpee some pills, but that “calming” option seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. The anger in Whumpee’s voice sounded hollow, but the fear was almost tangible as it began to quaver. And then came the point of no return.

“Get away from me!”

Despite the fact one of the orderlies had admonished Friend to step away from Whumpee, they stayed put. Whumpee had confided their fear of needles to Friend and Friend knew that the potential of being forcibly sedated was riling Whumpee even more. Friend knew they had to do something to prevent the completion of some shitty self-fulfilling prophecy.

“They just want to help,” Friend reminded Whumpee quietly. They put a hand on Whumpee’s shoulder and

Pain exploded in Friend’s nose. It sent a shockwave through their skull, and blood spurted down over their lips and chin, and onto their white shirt. Their hands shot to their nose and they groaned. They felt arms leading them away from the impending fight and they allowed it. The only thing they were aware of beyond their pain was Whumpee’s growing panic.

Friend kept their head tilted back, but they kept their watering eyes and their dizzied focus on Whumpee. Friend couldn’t see the needle, but they knew the doctor must have been holding one. Whumpee backed up until the back of their legs bumped the couch. Whumpee ran forward. They were caught, then dragged backward and down.

Friend watched Whumpee buck and shout hysterically as the orderlies held them, and the doctor came closer with the sedative.

I’m sorry, Friend thought as Whumpee let out a hoarse, broken sound like a trapped animal.

Friend felt anger well within them when, after Whumpee’s struggle began to cease, they heard an orderly’s attempt at comfort.

“There, not so bad, huh?”

IV.

Friend’s shift ended and they made their way to Whumpee’s room. When they heard the commotion coming from that direction, they sped the rest of the way, but the shock of what they found halted them. Whumpee was bleeding from their hand, the evidence of which dappled the bed and floor. A streak of it also stood out on the wall. Whumpee stood, surrounded by three orderlies and a nurse, with their back flat against the wall. Friend followed Whumpee’s wide gaze to the hypodermic the nurse held in their hand as they and the orderlies advanced on them.

Mystery solved.

Whumpee had been scared to death of needles since they were kids.

”Whumpee?” Friend said. Whumpee looked at Friend, then immediately back to the people around them. Whumpee sank down and cowered. Friend felt a pang in their heart at the way Whumpee’s lower lip trembled and the way their breathing hitched. This had to stop. Now. Friend brushed past the orderlies and stood between them and Whumpee.

“Just back off a minute,” they asked their colleagues. They did their best to keep a protective growl out of their voice “Give them some space?”

They did as they were asked and Friend crouched so they were eye-level with Whumpee.

“Pulled out your IV, huh?”

Whumpee’s eyes flitted over the figures a short distance behind Friend before settling on them. They swallowed hard and nodded as they let their gaze drift down to the ground.

“I just...I- they -they-”

“Woah, woah, woah, it’s okay, Whumpee,” Friend said. Their heart went out to Whumpee. They hated to see their friend’s face so flushed with embarrassment and agitation. “Another nightmare? The needle?”

Whumpee gave another nod and pulled in a shaky breath.

“I don’t want that,” they said. “I can be calm. I’m calm. Please.”

Whumpee looked up at Friend with tired eyes. The fear remained, but Whumpee was lucid.

“Okay,” Friend said. They gave Whumpee a soft smile and extended a hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

After staring at their hand for a moment, Whumpee accepted it.

V.

Friend forced themself to look Whumpee in the eye when men on either side of Whumpee took them roughly by the arms. Whumpee didn’t struggle, didn’t flinch; they looked at Friend in a way that made their stomach twist in guilt.

“You know what they did to me,” Whumpee said. Their voice was barely above a whisper but a part of Friend wished they’d screamed at them.

“I didn’t know how else to help you,” Friend said as they dropped their gaze and hoped that on some level, Whumpee could understand. Friend didn’t dare hope for forgiveness. Because they did know. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll take good care of them,” Whumper said as they entered the room.

Whumpee lunged forward, but the men holding them seemed prepared for the ferocity of the motion. Unfazed by Whumpee’s outburst, Whumper greeted them as though they were a long lost friend and Whumpee cursed and strained to get loose. It was more energy than Friend had seen them use in the past week.

“Don’t suppose you’re going to come with us willingly? Let us fix you?” Whumper asked as they looked appraisingly at Whumpee and produced a small black case.

“Go fuck yourself,” Whumpee spat.

Whumper shrugged and unzipped the case. They withdrew a loaded syringe and removed the cap before holding it up. Friend’s heart sank further when Whumpee’s eyes grew huge and their rage and defiance disappeared.

“What is that?” Whumpee asked. They tried to take a step backward, but was held in place.

“Something to make you a little more docile,” Whumper said as a grin bloomed on their face and they took another step forward.

Whumpee tried to pull back again, but to no avail.

“Oh, yeah. You’ve got a thing about needles, huh? Can’t say I blame you.”

Whumpee eyed the needle and began to slump in the grips of the men restraining them. Whumper stepped to within arm’s reach of Whumpee.

“Stop,” Whumpee breathed. “Just stop and I’ll...I’ll come with you.”

Whumper moved the syringe back and forth as though they were mulling over Whumpee’s words, but they clucked their tongue and shook their head.

“You have no idea how much your little stunt cost us. So you are coming back, but you’re going to be doped out of your mind. I’m not taking any chances.”  

Whumpee began to panic and Friend would have given anything to comfort them. They could only watch as Whumpee broke down and begged and weakly tried to squirm away. Fear and whatever ailment had been dogging them took their toll. Whumper’s men pinned Whumpee to the ground with ease

“Nononononono,” Whumpee chanted as they fought. “Please!”

Whumpee cried out when Whumper stuck the needle into them.

“I’m sorry, Whumpee,” Friend said as Whumpee’s eyes glazed over and their body went still. “I’m so sorry.”

[uncrownedqueeen]

Alone (Dani x Jamie)

Summary: Dani is a yearning gay mess for Jamie (aren’t we all lol). The fic is set in Bly before it all goes to shit.

Warning: SMUT (smut used to be my shtick around here, it has been ages tho and it was all straight, now i wanted to bless the gays, but this sucks, i honestly need to get my hang of this back again) ANYWAY, IF YOU  ARE NOT  INTO THIS.... just don’t read it mate.

Words: 2,8k

“Are you sure you don’t need me to go with you? If you could wait for just a five minutes, I could go grab my bag and-,”

“I’m positive.” Owen’s interruption struck Dani as a surprise, but as she blinked at him with her eyes wide, she was only met with an assuring smile.

“We’ve done this a plenty of times together, haven’t we?” He checked, hitting the roof of his car to get the kids’ attention as they were playing a tug of war over the new comic issue, which had arrived into their mail box just this morning as a favour from their ever absent uncle.

“Oh, yes indeed. Owen used to take us to the town all the time when Ms Jessel was here,” Flora answered and her smile seemed to falter a little. It was hard to tell whether it was because of the thought of her late babysitter or the fact that Miles won their little fight and was now comfortably seated with the comics opened on his lap.

“I will bring them back in one piece. You needn’t worry. Everything will be alright.” Owen said while putting a box of old children’s clothes into the boot of the car.

Dani shook her head instantly. “No. No. It’s not like that. I know you will take an excellent care of them.” There was not a single ounce of doubt in her body. Since she had arrived here, she got to see how much they all cared for those poor children. “I…. I feel bad putting my work on your shoulders.  You don’t need to do this.”

“I know, but I want to,” Owen insisted. “I think we both need this. You’ve been working every day and I…” He didn’t need to say much more than that. It had been only a couple of days since his mother’s funeral, and Dani had noticed how much time he spent around here lately. She didn’t blame him. She knew how suffocating it could feel to be alone in a space you had once used to share with someone so close. It would do him good to have the children around him, forcing his focus onto something else than all those what ifs that must have been undoubtedly occupying his mind.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him in the end, nodding her head just a little, letting him know that she understood. “It will be nice to have a day off for once.”

 There was a part of her which felt bad about this. If it wasn’t for the difficult time Owen was just going through, she wouldn’t be able to make her way down towards the greenhouse and spend more than a couple of minutes here and there during the day with her. Dani couldn’t help but feel silly when noticing the excited bounce in her step. Was this how it felt to truly like someone? Was this how Eddie felt when approaching her?

Thankfully enough, she didn’t get to get too deep into this since the sight that appeared in front of her as she entered the greenhouse erased any cohesive thoughts she could have.

“Oh god,” she stammered, her eyes stuck on Jamie’s half-naked figure in the corner.

“Nope. I’m afraid it’s just me,” Jamie chuckled, apparently under no stress that Dani walked in on her while she was changing her clothes. In fact, Dani could swear that there was a smug smirk playing on her lips.

It was only then that she pulled herself together and hurriedly glanced away. “What are you doing?” she exclaimed, carefully examining one of the hanging plants next to her.

“Mining gold, obviously. What does it look like I’m doing?” Dani rolled her eyes at the sarcasm and looked over to Jamie again. “I had to run some errands before coming here so…,” Jamie explained, motioning her hand to her work overalls and the small pile of regular clothes on the side. 

“I heard some noise from the driveway. Is everything all right?” She asked, already moving around and setting the things she had just brought to their proper places.

Dani’s eyes followed her every step, she moved with such a confidence and ease. She knew this place and everything inside it like the back of her hand. Dani could spend hours sitting here and watching her do her thing.“Huh?” Dani’s eyebrows shot up when Jamie suddenly stopped in her tracks and sent her a curious look.

“I asked you what’s going on. I heard a car outside,” Jamie tried again and then her voice picked up a rather playful, almost teasing tone.  “You seemed to have frozen for a little while. You know, I would have understood this if I was still half-naked but…”

“The kids are gone,” Dani blurted out, smiling a bit. “Hannah asked Owen to take some things to the charity shop in town, and he took Miles and Flora with him. They’re going to stop at the bookstore, get some ice scream.” Her voice was cheerful, and her feet brought her closer to Jamie, who had just got back to putting things in order.

“Oi! That’s sweet. What you gonna do?”

“Well, I came here…” She took a step closer and got in Jamie’s way. If anyone else had tried to do this, especially when her arms were full with the huge bag of the soil conditioner, they would most probably got cussed off. That rule did not apply to Dani though, and they both knew that. “I thought we could talk,” Dani added with a wide, innocent smile which Jamie naturally had to mirror to some extent.

The smile grew as Dani took the bag from her, doing her best not to show the surprise and the struggle with the weight while she put it to the side.

“Where’s Hannah?” Jamie asked to which Dani only shrugged her shoulders.

“Haven’t seen her since breakfast, where she prepared the stuff for Owen to take away. I’m not sure what’s been keeping her so busy lately, but I can barely see her when the kids aren’t around.” It wasn’t clear who made the first move, but soon their hands were locked together, and they were pulling each other close.

“So we are completely alone,” Jamie concluded, already leaning her head to kiss her. It was difficult for them not to smile into the kiss because honestly, it’s been a while ever since either of them has felt even remotely this happy. If someone asked Dani, she wasn’t sure if she ever felt even just a pinch of this excitement. Her heart was pounding so fast it could have easily jumped out of her chest and she couldn’t get enough of the sweet taste of Jamie’s lips.

“You didn’t really come to talk, did ya?” She exposed her amusedly in the middle of the kiss.

“I mean… We can talk! But I just thought…,” her voice seemed to shake not only due to the lack of oxygen.

“How about you just show me instead?” Jamie interrupted her nervous stammering and stole yet another kiss from her.

Dani didn’t reply. How could she when she could already feel herself melt into the kiss? She let go of Jamie’s hands and placed hers on the gentle curves of Jamie’s hips, making her take a few steps back until her back was pressed against one of the glass walls. Their mouths and tongues continued to taste each other, savouring every moment while Dani’s hand crept up Jamie’s side until it got all the way up to her breast. She pulled away just enough to look into the warm brown eyes that were staring up at her. She said nothing, but Jamie read the question in her expression correctly and nodded her head ever so slightly, encouraging Dani to unbutton the buttons on her overalls. A fond smile was playing on her lips as she watched her trembling fingers work. She definitely didn’t make it any easier for her once she leaned her head and traced her lips over the soft skin on Dani’s neck.  Feeling Dani’s cold fingers move lightly over her chest sent shivers down her spine. Dani’s pull on the fabric of her clothes made Jamie lose her grip on her behind, and she helped Dani with pulling down the sleeves of her overalls.

The two smiled at each other, their cheeks flushed. Not only due to the excitement but also because of the heat they were both feeling now. Jamie slid her hands under Dani’s sweater before her head leaned back, hitting the windowpane as her eyelids fluttered close. Dani’s hands were keeping a good hold on her waist. Almost as if she was afraid that Jamie was going to go away. There was nothing that could make her do that, though. Never, not even in her craziest dream, she had allowed herself to fantasise about feeling the au pair’s lips on her body the way she got to experience now. Feeling her tongue soothe the small marks Dani left on her skin, an intimate path formed by small nibbles and bruises caused by her sucking on the skin too hard, which curved from the side of her neck all the way to her bra. Her hot breath tickled her, luring a quiet giggle from her chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” she was quick to say as Dani looked up to her face and kissed all the other potential excuses away from her lips.

“I haven’t been able to think about much else ever since then,” Dani admitted in a hushed voice, making Jamie’s lips curl up into a smirk.

There was no room for her to come up with any teasing remarks, though, since one of Dani’s hands slid down her stomach and disappeared under her underwear. Her touch was gentle and exploring for a while before it settled on the one particular spot. The gasp which had escaped Jamie’s lungs provided Dani with all the confidence she was possibly lacking. Even with how unexperienced she was in this type of lovemaking; she had never felt nervous or scared.

Everything about this, the sweet scent of another girl’s body right under her nose, the warmth and softness of those curves in her hands, the sound of moans and shaky breaths next to her ear, the heat and wetness around her fingers… It felt good. Great was actually a more accurate way to describe it. Everything about this felt absolutely right. Jamie’s chest was rising heavily as Dani continued to stroke her clit in swift circular motions and she used her hands to cup Dani���s face, bringing her up so she could kiss her and use her to muffle the whimpers she wasn’t able to hold in for much longer. They were making out before, during, and even after the orgasm had taken over her body and made her weak on her feet.

“I was hoping to hear you moan,” Dani confessed against Jamie’s lips when she pulled away a little to catch some breath. Jamie’s eyes opened to catch the sight of her as she felt her hand slip push further in the between her thighs. “We are alone now…,” she reminded.

A moment later, Dani pressed her index and middle finger against her entrance. She kept her eyes locked as she guided them inside. The way Jamie’s expression changed with every small move of her fingers inside her was a magnificent sight for sore eyes. As soon as the two fingers inside her curled slightly, Dani got what she came for.

She would have never guessed that bringing pleasure to someone else could make her own body feel so good. She never wanted for this to stop. Dani had to release her other hand from Jamie’s firm hold so she could push the sporty bra she was wearing down a bit. She closed her lips around her nipple and then flicked her tongue over it just when the fingers she had buried deep inside her picked up their pace. Dani looked up, satisfied to see the blissful frustration in Jamie’s face as she tried her best to bring her over the edge once again.

This time there would be nothing keeping her from vocally expressing herself. All the breathless profanities, moans and Deity’s names coming all at once. Just like Jamie did.

“You’re going to be the death of me, I swear,” Jamie stated once she got her rapid breathing under control.  

“Well, I definitely hope you won’t. That would be an awful shame.” Dani smiled, stroking her bright pink cheek.

“Not yet. Don’t worry,” she assured her playfully, her hands settled on her sides. They slid down to her thighs so they could slip under the fabric of her skirt. She pushed against her, nodding her head towards the counter beside to let her know what her plans were.

Considering how open she had been only a couple of minutes ago, it was adorable how flustered Dani suddenly seemed when realising what was going to come next.

“What? Don’t tell me you did not think of this.” Jamie didn’t even try to hide her amusement, but she did attempt to tone it down at least.

“Of course, I did…,” she scoffed and attempted to smooth her skirt, almost as if she didn’t realise that Jamie’s hands were right under it.

“Then you know that there’s not gonna be much of a use for this.” Dani let her hands fall to her sides again and gulped at the feel of her underwear being pulled down. Jamie didn’t let it fall drop to the floor. She helped Dani to get out of it and pushed the thin piece of fabric into one of her pockets.

She didn’t get back up to her eye level, instead she made herself comfortable down on her knees. The hem of Dani’s skirt got promptly lifted to her waist, leaving the lower part of her body fully exposed. Dani could just barely feel Jamie’s lips on her thighs with how light their touch was in the beginning. She kissed every inch of her skin while her hands stroked small circles on the sides of her hips. Her body shivered once Jamie’s tongue paid extra attention to the insides of her thighs and her mouth sucked on the sensitive skin. She had to remind herself to breathe as she moved closer to her core.

What a great disappointment it was when instead of dragging her tongue over her heat, Jamie planted a couple of sweet kisses right above it. The annoyed sigh might have left Dani’s mouth without her realisation, but it did not slip Jamie’s attention, making her smile into Dani’s lap. To get back onto her good side, Jamie traced the wet trail paved by her kisses on Dani’s thigh until finally reaching her wet folds. She glanced up to check on her as she drew her hand over her slit and then pushed her middle finger inside. Her ring finger was soon to follow, this sensation accompanied by the non-stopping shower of kisses near her hipbone.

No one, except the two of them, would get to learn about the love-marks Jamie left on her skin while she moaned above her oh so sweetly. The two fingers kept pressing against her insides in a perfect rhythm, making her entire body feel on fire. Dani’s thighs tried to clench together in a reaction to the approaching orgasm but Jamie managed to keep her in place, choosing this moment, out of all them, to be the right one where she would move her mouth to Dani’s clit. This was the last push she needed to come undone.

Words couldn’t describe how content she was when Jamie’s face stayed right there between her legs, making the bliss last even longer. Dani brushed the dark hair away from her delicate face before opening her legs wider and bashfully, trying to guide Jamie’s head to move in the way she wanted. Jamie was more than happy to oblige, enjoying the cute moans Dani was making while she was eating her out. It was too easy to get herself lost in the pleasure, and her hips seemed to grind against Jamie automatically. However, her mind was in way too much of a haze for her to be embarrassed and worry that this was not the way how she was raised to behave. There were only two things she could focus on.

Ultimate, indescribable joy and Jamie. Her eyes remained stuck on her, even as her fingers curled and her breath got stuck in her throat, even as Jamie looked up at her and their eyes met. She got to see her while she cleaned her up, peppered her inner thighs and her lap with sweet, caring kisses before standing up, her face all flushed but smiling from ear to ear.

“Got anything else you want to talk about, Poppins?”

[mrsmarlasinger]

Took about three quarters of a 10mg edible...two and a half hours ago? I'm like the marijuana equivalent of lower second plateau right now, with the drowsy planted-in-bed factor of upper second plat. I feel way stupider on weed than dex though. It's very hard to type this, and I keep forgetting every damn little thing. No short-term memory, lads.

There is also a...I forgot what I was going to say. My thoughts feel flowy and slow and languid and...legato. And evanescent. See, I'm not that stupid. Anyway, I only just started listening to music, and...I accidentally moaned when the first song started ("U&ME" by alt-J) :/// I think I prefer music on DXM though. Dreamy, that was the word I was looking for earlier.

Anyway again...I forgot what I was going to say. Um. The body load is better than dex. But my face is a bit numb around my lips and my neck and my back and everything ache so bad. When I move my legs like when I'm crouching or something? It's like I can hyper-feel every part of my calves and knees when I get up, and I can feel the littlest misalignment of my knees and I have to be very careful because I feel like I'm about to dislocate them. Well, I'm just laying in bed right now in my room with a couple of my strings of fairy lights and my color-changing diffuser with some lavender oil in it.

God, I feel stupid. I feel like a goldfish, memory-wise. I had a really bad headache for a minute earlier but it's better now. I can tell I'm experiencing enhanced music appreciation, like as a Side Effect, because I'm hearing music in my head instead of my ears. It's migrated from my earbuds to the little dark room in my head. I am adding in retrospective paragraph breaks every time I've been writing for a while even though no one is gonna read this so it doesn't matter if it's one endless paragraph.

Um. I got the booster shot today. I thought I had COVID (because my mom does) even though the NAAT test was negative but now I am quite certain I don't. My mom is doing okay by the way.

Anyway, I am very cold, but this body load is much better than the runs and near-vomiting of DXM. But I hate being this foggy-brained. I generally feel quite coherent on dex. Am seeing things a little--just static and a few glitters in my vision and my bedroom floor is curving upward. Whoah. This has some dissociative effects, actually, 'cause I feel so spaced-out and everything is...more detailed and less cohesive, as if I'm seeing it enlarged on a computer screen while playing a video game (let's be real: Sims 4).

My limbs are full of static, kind of like before I have a seizure, which I now realize is because I have reflex anoxic seizures, which are triggered by my heart, so I imagine it's due to blood pressure changes. God, it is so fucking hard to write anything. I have to stop, I'm getting annoyed. Am I supposed to hit the Enter key once or twice after a paragraph while I'm on the app?

Anyway, I am feeling cold and slow and stupid and staticky and achey. I had some Brie and Havarti earlier and it was very nice. "I Didn't Change My Number" by Billie Eilish just started. I can hear her singing right in the front of my headspace. Wow. Anyway, I have no idea what I was gonna fucking say. Oh yeah, it was, do you call it a trip if it's just weed? Like do I say I'm tripping right now? Because I am seeing...halos. And afterglows.

Oh yeah, at first I started with just under half the edible, but then like maybe an hour or something later I took another quarter. But I started dosing three hours ago. Do you say "dosing" if it's not, like, pills? I only look at disso subreddits lol. I feel so dumb and lazy and dreamy right now. I've got to stop typing. I just feel like I'm missing everything I want to say. Anyway. I do realize I'm saying "anyway" a fuck-ton. Do you hyphenate "fuck ton"? Anyway. My neck hurts. I'm sleepy.

This is only my second time trying weed btw. The first time I split an edible with my friend and it literally did fucking nothing.

[shakespeareanwannabe]

Drowning

Santiago Pope Garcia x F!OC/Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Rebecca Cooke

Summary: Santiago follows through with his escape plan, only to find that his freedom comes with a heavy price.

Warnings: Drinking/Alcohol Consumption, Swearing, Benny being Benny, references to war time injuries, references to Anxiety if you squint, ghosting, nightmares, crying

A/N: Hey y’all. Sorry it’s been a while. Some stuff came up, but I was inspired to write this chapter anyway! Here’s chapter 6. Please enjoy!

**********

Santiago Garcia was one of the best of the best. One of the top ranked soldiers in the US Military. Delta Force, Special Operations…his team was the one you called when things got bad. And things often got bad.

Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis oversaw the team. Laser focused in the field and a brilliant tactician who always seemed to be able to get his team out of tight spots, Redfly saw Delta Force through multiple missions, as well as two tours of Afghanistan and Iraq.

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia was his right-hand man, his second in command. Where Redfly focused on the minor details, Pope was able to see the big picture. Combined, their abilities to plan and execute earned them the respect and admiration of their team.

William ‘Ironhead’ Miller was third in command. His cool head and philosophical manner ensured cohesion in the group of macho men. While the team was busy fighting the enemy, Will was busy making sure there was no fighting amongst the team.

Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales was the pilot. The most intelligent of the bunch, he was often overlooked when it came to lauding praises, even if Pope would always claim that it was because of Frankie’s skillful maneuvering and calculating nature that they made it back in one piece.

Benjamin ‘Benny’ Miller was the youngest of the team, the most hotheaded, and the most emotionally vulnerable. Added to the team after their original fifth member was killed in action, Ironhead automatically took it upon himself to protect his baby brother, while the rest of the team protected Ironhead.

Together, they were the most successful, most ruthless, most cunning team to ever wear the United States flag on their shoulder. Ironhead, Catfish, and Benny trusted their fearless leaders to see them through any mission, no matter how bleak. Where they led, the team followed, no questions asked. Well, on the battlefield, that is…

“You fucking what!?!” Frankie exclaimed angrily while Benny and Will stared at him in astonishment.

Santi felt himself shrink. While he knew that his plan of action wasn’t the best, he didn’t know what else to do.

“I can’t drag her into all my bullshit, ‘Fish,” Santi sighed, dragging a hand down his face before chugging from his nearly-empty beer bottle.

“So, you thought that ghosting her was the best thing to do?” Benny exclaimed, leaning around his brother to get a good view of his former lieutenant. “Are you fucking stupid, Pope?”

“Ay, watch it, kid!” Santi grumbled. “You’ve seen her! She’s fucking perfect. I’m not ruining her. No way, man.” Santi chose to ignore Frankie’s mumbling in their shared mother tongue and cast his fishing line out into the lake once more.

It had been two weeks since the wedding, 13 days since the last time he saw Rebecca, and it was killing him, even if he knew it was for the best. So, when Will had offered up his fishing cabin in the woods for a boys weekend, he had jumped at the chance to get out of that big empty house, away from the clinic that he was slinking around under Charlie’s hateful glare, and far enough away from Bex’s building that he wasn’t tempted to just get up and drive there and beg for her forgiveness. It would be good for him. Clear his head. Get her out of his system, even if he was waking up every morning hard as a rock with thoughts of her smile and her softness and her heart at the forefront of his mind.

“Well, that fucking explains why Charlie went from crying over your speech at the wedding to asking me if I’d be okay burying your body in the backyard,” Frankie finally spoke in English.

Santi winced. After a week of actively ignoring his phone whenever it lit up with Rebecca’s name and smiling face, he supposed that Bex had asked Charlie what was up. And, since Charlie knew him well enough to know what nothing was actively wrong, he’d spent the last several of his physio appointments having to shield himself from his friend’s icy glare.

“What are you doing, man?” Will sat back with a sigh. “She’s the best you’re ever gonna get. You know that right?”

Santi clenched his fist around his fishing rod. “You think I don’t know that? She’s fucking perfect! Sweet and kind and unselfish and loving and sexy as all fuck! Who wouldn’t want that?”

“So, you’re either really fucking stupid or really fucking scared…” Benny muttered, leaning back to fetch another beer.

Santi felt something inside him burst. He was doing what was best for her, even if nobody in his life seemed to agree.

“Fuck this.” He threw his fishing rod to the ground and stood up. “I don’t have to deal with this shit. I’m going home.”

Frankie slowly stood up next to him with a few crackles and pops of his joints. “I drove you, dipshit. And you drank an entire six pack on your own. I’ll take you home.”

Frankie ambled over to give his goodbyes to Will and Benny while Santi stood with his arms crossed, staring out into the distance. He had thought Frankie and Will would understand. Frankie, who had to fight tooth and nail to keep the woman he loved after getting his license suspended. And Will, whose fiancée had left him six weeks before the wedding day, claiming the war had changed him and that he wasn’t the same man she fell in love with. Benny, who had loved more people than he could count, had never experienced that kind of love and loss before, and Santi hoped he never did. Everyone around them got sucked into their bullshit, and he wouldn’t let that happen to the most wonderful woman he had ever met.

“Hey,” Santi startled when a warm, gentle hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to meet Will’s warm gaze and placating smile. “We just want you to be happy, man.”

Santi sighed and nodded slowly. “Yeah, Will…I know, but—”

“But nothing, man,” Will interrupted gently, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “She makes you happier than I’ve ever seen you, Santi. Don’t lose that, or you’ll spend your life regretting it.”

Santi watched him walk away as Frankie came up beside him and started ushering him towards the truck.

**********

The two-hour drive home was longer than expected due to traffic on the highway, but the length was exasperated by the silence that was dragging out between the two men. Unlike the drive, the silence was atypical. Santi, who had grown accustomed to Frankie’s quiet calmness, usually filled the silence with stories to get Frankie talking or laughing. Now, the tension between the two was palpable, and Santi wasn’t about to try to break it when he had so much on his mind.

After almost three hours in the car together, Frankie pulled into Santi’s driveway and killed the engine.

Santi sighed, both in sadness and relief, and went to open the door. “Thanks,” he mumbled, hand resting on the handle and the door partially open.

“Listen, man…” Santi turned slightly to see Frankie had removed his cap and was rubbing at his forehead. “If she doesn’t make you happy, that’s fine. No point in making yourself miserable trying to drag out a relationship that just ain’t gonna work. But if that’s why you’re doing this, or if you’re doing it because of some bullshit protector instinct, then why are you so miserable? If she makes you happy but you’re worried about infecting her with your shit, then protect her from that by staying close and working hard.”

“I…” Santi swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt her, man.” He got out of the truck and stood next to the open door. “I won’t hurt her.”

Frankie fixed him with a glare, and Santi saw a flash of the old Frankie for a moment. “And what exactly are you doing right now, cabrón?”

Santi let the door swing closed as Frankie peeled out of his driveway and down the road.

**********

It took another week for Santiago to get his act together. The day Frankie dropped him off, he spent in his backyard, grilling and listening to music. If things were normal, it would be the day the whole gang got together at Frankie’s for food and fun and laughs, but things weren’t normal, so he settled in for some solo grilled chicken and some alone time. He woke up with nightmares around midnight, and when he woke up again around 2 a.m., he moved into the living room and resigned himself to crappy early morning TV until the sun came up.

The next day, on a whim, he started drafting a proposal for a private security company. He still had enough money from selling his weapons collection in Colombia to put together a decent business proposal, and it was better than sitting on his ass drinking all day, so he put his famed planning skills to work. Got Your Six Security would provide state of the art security systems as well as armed guards for those who desired them. The fees would be reasonable, they would cater to both private homes and public settings, and, best of all, they would only employ military or former military personnel. Luckily, Santi had kept in contact with a couple of the surveillance techs from his time overseas, and he knew that a small crew of them had been working on a state-of-the-art closed circuit security system and were looking to market it to high end customers. They had already agreed to work with him, he only needed to get a business plan and a small loan to get it up and running.

The day after that, he had a meeting with the bank, who had met his proposal with enthusiasm. (It helped that it was a company employing veterans, run by a veteran, who already had some capital to put up upfront.) All they asked was that he find his first customer before they signed off on the loan.

So, the following Monday, he straightened his suit and tie and headed into the last place he wanted to be: the art museum where Rebecca worked. It was the only business that had availability as soon as possible, they were willing to pay top dollar, and they seemed fairly desperate.

He met with two of the higher ups of the museum, Douchebag Derek’s mom and the owner of the building, and soon found out why they were so desperate.

“One of our paintings got stolen two nights ago,” Derek’s mom sighed. “We don’t know how, or why, but somebody got in, stole one of the Blair’s, and walked out with it. Our security guard claims that he didn’t hear anything, but the police are looking into it.”

“The point is,” Mr. Carlisle butted in. “We need something more high-tech than a retiree aged security guard. We need something that can send an alarm to the police if someone does get in, but also a few highly trained guards to watch the museum at night, in case someone does get in and the police are too slow. It seems to me that a military grade security system and some highly trained former soldiers are the perfect thing to protect the priceless works of art we house here at this institution.”

“Was anyone in the building when the painting was stolen?” The words escaped his mouth before he could even think. “I mean, besides the security guard.”

“No, thank god,” Mr. Carlisle replied. “Jerry, the security guard, says he saw out the last employee in the building before locking the door.”

“I’m just happy that nobody got hurt,” Derek’s mom simpered, and Santi caught a glimpse of her son’s douchebaggery in her voice.

“We’d be happy to help,” Santi smiled once he regained control of his voice, his shoulders relaxing at the news that Jerry had been alone in the building. “We’ll just need 50% of the cost of the alarm system up front before installation, then we can discuss how many guards you want on premises during the day and at night. Once we’ve got a number, we can go through the applicants together and we can find the ones who best suit your needs.”

It was after they dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s and Santi had received a firm handshake from Mr. Carlisle that it happened.

He was exiting Mr. Carlisle’s office, still facing the occupants of the room as he thanked them for their patronage, when he turned and bumped into something hard but soft and comforting and, even worse, familiar.

“Oof!”

A chill ran down his spine at the sound, the same sound she had made when he spanked her ass that morning.

“Shit, I’m…I’m, uh, I’m sorry.” Rebecca stilled in her crouched position, one hand on one of the loose sheets of paper he had knocked out of her arms. “Uh…here, let me help.”

He started to lower to the ground, wincing at his knees crackling, when she snatched up the paper he was reaching for and stood up. “Don’t bother.”

Already crouching, he let his head hang. He didn’t know how he expected their first encounter to go, but it certainly wasn’t that.

**********

A flash…a painful scream…his legs caught in quicksand…red pooling on the pristine white marble floors…the dull thud of her body dropping…the faceless thief escaping into the edges of his vision…cradling her lifeless body…

Santiago sat bolt up in bed, his heart racing and his chest heaving, his curls drooping onto his forehead with accumulated sweat.

Three nights of the same dream. Three nights of not being able to save her from the art thief. Three nights of sitting in bed, trembling while staring at her picture on his phone, his thumb hovering over the ‘Call’ button but always unable to take that final step.

First, she had bewitched him. Now, she was haunting him. One short, angry interaction was enough to bring her to the forefront of his mind (not that she was ever far from there), and now he couldn’t sleep.

Maybe Frankie was right. Doing the right thing shouldn’t make him this miserable. His heart shouldn’t ache when he thinks of her, he shouldn’t be so depressed when he sees couples together, and he really shouldn’t be dreaming about her death and waking up in tears.

He didn’t think. About any of it. Instead, he acted on instinct, throwing on a pair of threadbare sweatpants and a white vest and collecting his wallet and keys before hopping into his truck and driving the path he knew by heart.

**********

Bang Bang Bang!

Rebecca’s first instinct was to shout at whoever was knocking on her door at three a.m. to fuck off or she would call the cops. Her second instinct was to grab the baseball bat in her front closet and scare the intruder off herself.

She blamed the pint of Cherry Garcia (flavor chosen ironically, of course) and the three glasses of red wine she had drank before falling asleep on the couch for her poor decision-making skills as she stumbled off the couch and grabbed the bat.

“What the fu—”

“Holy shi—”

Santiago ducked away from the door, hands out in front of him as if to calm a wild animal.

“Bex! It’s me, Jesus Christ!”

She huffed. “Yeah, and? After the shit you’ve pulled, being met with a bat is the least of your concerns.” She rubbed her eyes. “What the hell do you want, Santiago?”

He winced at the full name. “C…Can we talk?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, bat hanging loosely between her fingers. “You’ve had three weeks to talk to me, asshole. What the fuck could you possibly have to say to me?”

Santi turned to look down the hall, wincing and apologizing as one of her neighbours shot him a dirty look. “Can we talk inside? Please? If you don’t like what I have to say, you can kick me out or call the cops. I really wouldn’t blame you. Just…please?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes, poking her head out. “Sorry, Mr. Chen. Tell Cindy that it’s the asshole boyfriend come to grovel.”

The man nodded knowingly and retreated into his apartment.

“I deserve that,” he mumbled, looking at her pleadingly.

Rebecca considered him for a moment. “You look like shit.”

“And I feel even worse. Baby, I…”

Rebecca cut him off. “If you seriously want to do this right now, I’m gonna need more wine.”

She turned her back on him and retreated into the apartment, leaving the door wide open. Santiago followed her after a beat, making sure the door was locked tight behind him.

“Baby, I—”

Bex held up a finger, pouring herself a large glass of red wine and sitting as far away from him as possible, draping a grey throw blanket over her lap before fixing him with a glare.

He met her eyes and felt himself deflate. “Fuck,” he groaned, raking his fingers through his hair. “I had it all planned out, every word I was going to say to you, and now I’m lookin’ at you and it’s all…” He made an exploding motion with his hands. “Poof. Gone.”

Rebecca burrowed further into her blanket. “Well, try. Because from where I’m sitting, you’re the one who needs to do the talking here. I’ve done my talking. On the half-dozen voicemails I left on your phone, in the dozens of texts I sent you, and in the email I wrote because I was panicking at the thought that you had gotten into some terrible accident and that was why you weren’t responding anymore. Because that is the only reason I could think of that you would suddenly stop talking to me.”

“I know. I know, you’re absolutely right. I fucked up in a major way, and I am so sorry. I know I messed up, but I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you.” Rebecca scoffed. “I’m serious, honey. In my own backwards as fuck way, I thought I was protecting you.”

“From what?” she asked angrily.

Santi felt something snap inside of him. “From me! From this forty-year-old fuck up sitting in front of you! Because I’m not a good man! Because I was shooting people and detonating bombs when you were still in grade school! Because I’ve killed people, good people…innocent people. Because my life is a mile-wide shit stain, and you don’t deserve to deal with that. Because…” Santi took a raggedy breath. “Because when I look at you, I see everything good about the world. And I know I’ve got blood and death on my hands, and I couldn’t live with myself if I let any of that effect you in any way.”

“Don’t you think that’s my choice?” she countered in a cold voice. “Don’t you think I should get to decide who deserves to be in my life? I might be a hell of a lot younger than you, Santiago, but my life hasn’t been all rainbows and unicorns. I know my worth. I know who belongs in my life. Not my narcissistic mother, who used my accident for sympathy from whoever she could get it from. Not my best friend from high school, who managed to turn everything into a fucking competition and only got bitchy when she ‘lost’. Not Douchebag Derek or fucking College Boyfriend Ben. And like it or not, I chose you. You with the bad knees and the greying hair and the blood and shit on your hands. God help me, but I chose you.” She chugged the rest of her wine, placing the glass harshly down on the coffee table.

“I know, sweetheart. God, you’re so fucking amazing, you know that?” he blinked back tears in his eyes. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t get emotional, that he would lay the facts out for her, but just being in her presence screamed safety to him and he could feel everything he had pushed down rising to the surface. “Y…you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, okay? And I know that’s a shitty, corny line, but it’s the truth. When I met you…I was in a bad place. My life had been one shit storm after another, and I thought coming home would fix that. Being around Frankie and Charlie, getting to bond with Mateo, having a home of my own for the first time…I was doing better. And then you crashed into my life, and all of a sudden everything felt good again. Like…the sun was shining on me but all of a sudden I could actually feel it and, for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of getting burned. You turned my whole plan upside down, and I was actually okay with it.” He chuckled, swiping at his cheeks as the first few tears started to fall. “I thought I could live in your orbit and just circle around you, not hurting you or effecting you in any way. But then…” he smiled softly. “Christ, that morning…Fuck, I realized that I was in so deep. Way deeper than I ever thought I would get. I was honestly, genuinely happy for the first time in years, and it was all because of you. And you were smiling at me all soft, and I realized something. I realized that living with you, spending the rest of my life with you, was something I could easily do and desperately wanted. And that scared the shit out of me. Because guys like me don’t get the happy ending. The credits start to roll just as we start dealing with the aftermath of whatever shitshow we just lived through, so that the audience doesn’t have to watch everything fall apart again. I…I couldn’t put you through that. Not when you’ve already got all your own stuff to deal with. Adding my own just felt selfish. And I know that’s a cop out, but it’s the truth. I honest to god just wanted to protect you.”

Rebecca’s gaze softened as her voice enveloped him. “So, why now? Why come to me now, if you’re so set on protecting me?”

He met her gaze. “The break in. At the museum. I-if you had been there, if you had gotten hurt…I don’t think I would’ve been able to handle it. That, plus some of Frankie’s patented wise wisdom, woke me up to what an idiot I’ve been. If I want to protect you, I’ve got to do it by being with you, and god baby, that’s all I want. And I know I fucked up. I basically did the same jackass thing that your college boyfriend did, only ten times worse because I promised I wouldn’t. I know I don’t deserve you, but I swear to god, baby, if you let me back into your life, I will work with you. I won’t keep anything from you, and I’ll always be honest with you, and when I try to protect you, I’ll do it by standing by your side and letting you know that I’m here. Even…” he gulped painfully. “Even if it’s just as a friend.”

Rebecca considered him carefully as Santi waited on bated breath. Finally, she spoke. “You really hurt me, Santi.”

He nodded, clenching his eyes shut. “I know. I know, baby, and I am so, so sorry.”

“Everything I was scared of, happened. I let you in, and you made me fall in love with you, then you left. You fucked me then fucked off. And you didn’t even have the decency to tell me why. I agonized for weeks over what I could have possibly done wrong.”

“No, baby,” he took a chance and shifted to sit next to her, gently cradling her hand in his. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is all on me, okay?”

She played with his fingers, rough and callused from his time handling firearms. “It is,” she nodded. “It is all on you…but when I ran into you at the museum, I felt like I could breathe for the first time in weeks. I wanted to be angry at you, but I just felt sad because…because I wanted you to do some stupid, corny, romcom level bullshit like fall to your knees and beg for my forgiveness or sweep me up into your arms and say that you would never let me go again.”

Santiago cupped her cheek, carefully brushing away the stray tear meandering over her cheekbone. “What are you saying?” he asked, trying desperately to keep the hope from his voice.

She sighed. “It means…that I’m too tired to deal with this right now.” She stood, not releasing his hand. “C’mon. You can sleep here tonight, and we can figure this out in the morning.”

He stood hesitantly. “Are you sure? I can sleep here on the couch?” He eyed the leather distastefully. “Or I can go sleep in my truck. I…I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She was already shaking her head. “No, then I’ll just feel guilty. That couch is not comfortable and your truck with play hell with your neck. You can stay in my bed. Just…don’t worry about it.”

She padded silently into her room, tugging him behind her. Swiftly, she tugged down the meticulously straightened sheets and slid into her side of the bed, Santiago following after a short pause.

He laid there for what felt like hours, staring up at the ceiling, thanking god that he was there with the woman he loved and praying for a chance to make things right.

For the first time in forever, his prayers seemed to be answered quickly.

“I can hear you thinking,” Rebecca mumbled as she rolled over and placed her head on his chest. “Stop thinking, Santi. We can figure out everything in the morning.”

He carefully wrapped his arms around her and buried his nose in her hair, eyes drifting closed to send him into the deepest sleep he’d had in a month.

**********

He awoke the same way he’d fallen asleep, wrapped around Rebecca like he was afraid that, should he let go even an inch, she’d disappear.

He pulled back a fraction of an inch to gaze at her peaceful face before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

She released a soft, sleepy mewl before her eyes blinked open.

She smiled softly at him. “Hey…”

The words poured out of him before he could even think. “Move in with me.”

She crinkled her brow. “What?”

He caught her hand and brought it up to his mouth, kissing her palm. “I love you. And I want to prove to you that I’m in this for the long haul. You’re it for me, Rebecca. So, move in with me.”

Her sleepy eyes took him in for a moment, and Santi’s breath caught in his chest. But before he could backtrack or explain further, he felt his heart stop.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

**********

Tags list (open): @darksideofclarke, @writefightandflightclub, @rae-rae-patcha, @himbopoes, @sophoclese, @phoenixhalliwell, @buckstaposition, @who-talks-first, @hkmultifandom, @youhavereachedtheendofpie

[steve0discusses]

S4 Ep 39: Pharaoh Can Fly (Selectively)

Guys, they’re back

Best storyboarder is back, and the visual difference between last episode and this episode is like when your art teacher picks up your charcoal and just fixes everything wrong with your gesture drawings. It’s like...I mean look at this:

I just really love and appreciate how illustrative this storyboarder is. And I say just storyboarder because this had about the same budget as the last episode--there wasn’t that much actual animation as per usual. But, all of the scenes were drawn so well, like panels out of a good manga. They just...they always nail it when they’re at the helm and I don’t know why they’re on Yugioh, but bless this storyboarder.

Plot wise, everyone got pulled into the dragon by gooey tentacles that came out of it’s stomach, don’t think about it.

Meanwhile, all of the minibosses could communicate with them and beg for help, yes, even the same miniboss who may have dressed up like Pegasus and catfished Seto Kaiba.

(keep reading under the cut)

The whole process of getting absorbed into the Orichalcos demon was a whole lot of symbolism and it was...kinda gross. Also kinda sketch. Also, for Kaiba it is a neat little nod to S1 when he had a vision that his brother was absorbed into a dragon mass.

I don’t think that the makers of the show remember S1, but either they just really like goopy dragons, or it’s a coincidence or I dunno, on purpose? Probably a coincidence.

And like I made this joke and realized...what if they actually meant to make that parallel though? This is the America crossover season, and they have referenced America’s love of trickster rabbits before with Pegasus but do they know about Br’er rabbit in Japan? Do they know? It’s a pretty Americana Deep-cut, and I have no idea how common this folktale is outside of the states.

I see anime busting out absorbing goopy masses all the time so I’m gonna assume that there might be a Japanese folklore I don’t know about which uses a similar structure (although I’m also assuming it has an extremely different history and association ((which I won’t be going into because I don’t feel like putting a trigger warning on this recap)).)

And looking at Wikipedia, there’s people that think the original reference to moist, absorbing creatures could have even come from as far as India. Which is...fascinating to how it also developed in Africa, and then the Cherokee also made the same story independently and then it fused together here in the States to make it what was eventually made into a Disney movie that will never be released again--this is just a really old ass story, all in all, possibly like over a thousand years old.

And a FASCINATING google deep dive I won’t go into for obvious reasons but knock yourself out.

Also, lets get distracted for a sec and see how well this storyboarder drew a fitted jacket at that angle. Dear Lord, did they get reference for that or did their brain just already know that those folds would be there? You can even tell that Pharaoh has just a little bit of padding at his shoulders. Ugh. Guys this storyboarder is so freakin good at these little fitted jackets.

So, once Yugi and his friends are absorbed into the mass, where they should have died...and maybe some of them did, but I don’t know if I should add that to the Death Count because like...they could have held their breath in the amount of time they were stuck in there...maybe...Anyway, they are saved by being tossed into the figurative briar patch--by the souls all hanging out in the Leviathan’s stomach--which again makes me wonder...did they pull a folklore on us? Again, I have no idea.

Like a lot of the people in this dragon have been thorns in their side this entire season, they’ve all tried to kill them at one point--all the minibosses, Mai, Pegasus--but now they have decided to team up with Pharaoh (along with the rest of the human race) and offer whatever they can to free them from the grip of the gross dragon mass.

And like, the ending of the folk tale is that the thorny ass briar patch is also where the rabbit lives usually. It hurts everyone else, but the rabbit--the rabbit can deal with it. And likewise, Pharaoh is freakin dead. He’s at home here. He’s surrounded by spirit power, his friends and their friendship power, this is like his zone, and now he’s crazy powerful for it and will be for the rest of the episode.

And like Yami is a very trickster God (especially Season Zero Yami) so like...it does make sense that he would mirror a folk tale based on trickster Gods, even if it is by complete accident.

So Pharaoh imagines everyone’s tears as individual drops in a glass or something--it’s not a literal glass or anything--it’s just there because the only thing actually happening on screen was his hand hanging out of this dragon’s weird puss skin.

And he’s now a fully charged Sonic the Hedgehog and no longer needs Kaiba or Joey at all. Just gonna grab his God card demons and take charge of everything else from here on out.

By first exploding his buddies right the hell out of this lizard and across hundreds of feet of open ocean.

Joey decides to remind Kaiba that he lost the Battle City tournament.

Seto’s roast was actually in the show, PS. He is not super excited to be reminded that Yugi owns every card that he spent 2 seasons failing to get.

And then Pharaoh did something really, really...

...just really really wild.

OH OK.

YEAH JUST TAKE OFF.

GO AHEAD THERE’S NO REASON THIS WOULD BOTHER ME.

I mean he IS super powered right now but like...

Like...WTF?

4 SEASONS. 4 SEASONS I thought this guy was glued to Yugi like Peter Pan’s Shadow and apparently--he can bounce.

Can Pharaoh do this every time Yugi asks Tea out on a date and tries to instead make the ghost in his head do all the work now? Can Pharaoh just be like “NOPE” and then phase out of the house, leaving Yugi to actually do the hard stuff?

It really adds a level of complexity to their relationship if Yugi can get a room.

(If not a room for romance, but at the very least a room to poop in.)

OR has he been able to allow Yugi to wicked poop in peace this whole time, but the show just never felt like telling us because they felt like it wasn’t important (although it is crazy important)?

Either way I am just...floored at this character development.

Yami just let Yugi out of his sight for like...I want to say 8 full minutes. Just incredible amount of trust on Yami’s part. Incredible. Knowing Yugi’s track record, he should have died in those 8 minutes but...he was being babysat by both Kaiba and Joey.

So Yami summons the Gods and they shoot lasers--you kinda expect this sort of thing.

And this is...probably...the real reason why Dartz didn’t bother trying to attack Pharaoh 5,000 years ago.

I can still think it’s because of Bakura but like...this is probably the real reason. It felt pretty chump to just shoot a laser at the bastard. Pharaoh just had to be reminded that this is a thing he can just do. If he felt like it.

Which he never feels like doing, because he’s too busy watching Yugi’s every move, and getting distracted by High School shenanigans.

After this happens, the giant snake falls to the ocean, splitting into just sooooooo many ghosts.

Over 7.8 billion ghosts, if we’re to assume that this is most of the population on Earth.

(thinking the weird-o in the hat is probably a Duel Monsters card? The duel monsters were throwing themselves into the Leviathan at one point so this is probably like a dark magician boy or something...I just don’t get very attached to the monster cards so it was like...whatever. The cards die like constantly so who cares?)

It is a pretty set dressing. Like Christmas lights but...dead people.

We also find out that the lost family of our minibosses Alister and Raphael, have indeed spent the last many years inside the Leviathan stomach, which is pretty tragic. We get a bitter sweet conclusion to Alister and Raphael’s story--although it’s not a full on ending for either character. Their life still hella sucks, they are in therapy for basically forever.

Where is Gurimo?

I don’t know what sort of job or life these two are qualified to have now, but youknow...Marik’s boat probably has jobs available.

Hold up. Can we talk about the windows?

I know absolutely none of you care about this, but I do, not to be picky or condescending to an overworked art team, but because I just want to know what they were trying to aim for.

There’s an iron stained glass style windowpane thing going on and that’s what’s really getting me. Like...I know these guys were technologically advanced, but why did you use this WW2 background? What happened to Ancient Greece that you were doing before?

Like doing a super past with future tech is so cool to me--I love that sort of concept art. That’s going into like Black Panther stuff where you’re referencing the earliest stuff in Africa and then blending it with stuff beyond our science. But Atlantis is a real big shrug and a “listen we ran out of time and had to press print,” and it’s such a shame. It feels less cohesive than even when this show does Egypt.

And yo this show and how it draws ancient Egypt--I feel like I’ve already talked about that. I have a feeling I’m going to talk a lot more about it next season. I’ll get to it when we get to it. I’m hoping that they have more time and budget to actually DO Egypt for once. (I say knowing they won’t)

Like it’s one of those things where this isn’t a history show, like at all, and it’s very much a fantasy. I’m not going to be like those sewing people on youtube that get annoyed because their TV show doesn’t have handsewn stitching in their Victorian bodices they rented from the costume department from an LA discount warehouse. Because, yo, it’s TV, and I can stretch my own imagination because it’s acting. (although I confess, I watch every single one of those videos).

But...the potential, y’all...the potential.

Anyway, Dartz isn’t dead. He was just taking his toot sweet time getting down the steps of his Gazebo.

This is where things get very anime. I get this problem a lot with anime, I really do--and maybe it’s just me. But like...sometimes it feels like anime changes the rules during the boss fight.

That happens a lot, right? Where suddenly the final boss reveals something that like...should have been addressed way earlier? And he’s alive but you don’t get why?

Anyway, Pharaoh reacts by getting maybe way too attached to his newfound independence.

Which like...I can understand Tea forgetting that Yugi is one people that is two people all the time, but the writers as well?

And what’s kind of great about this scene is that Dartz does see Yugi as two people here. He doesn’t look at Yugi, he looks at both. When Pharaoh is like “Leave me, Yugi!” Dartz heard all of that.

Just kind of a neat thing that we finally have a dude that can just...see Pharaoh for what he is, but it probably won’t matter because there’s like only one more episode left of this season.

Anyway, Pharaoh and Dartz have a chat about where evil comes from...and like...it’s some Yugioh lore, all right.

So before the show decides to give us the Genesis on Yugioh and reveal where the evil of the Orichalcos comes from, or if all evil was created by Orichalcos itself (which is IMPLYING stuff about Orichalcos) the snake shuts him the hell up.

As it should. Leave that Pandora’s box freakin closed. That’s going into extended universe of Star Wars books territory (RIP.)

As an aside--pretty sure that Yugi is standing outside that tornado. Maybe it was just the editing of the episode but like...

Yo I’m pretty sure Yugi is just standing there. For the first time, it’s not his nuts getting roasted. Wow. Tables have turned so much since he was dead.

Anyway, here’s the link for new people so you can read these in order

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

There’s only one left! We can do it! We can finish this season in 2020! And actually get back to recapping Full Metal Alchemist! ~~Woooo~~

Oh man that movie better still be on Netflix or I’ll have to buy it lolol.