Spartacus - War All The Time, Chapter 1 (Agron/Nasir)
Title: War All The Time
Summary: Modern AU. The longest-running and strongest government in history is engaged in a war with an enemy they can’t even find, let alone eradicate. The world as its known is on the brink of destruction, and one man must choose what side to stand on.
# fic # spartacus # agron # nasir # nagron # fanfiction # the most perfect ship in the otp sea # spartacus: vengeance # war all the time # my fic
In which I make a plea.
I was curious as to whether anyone had an extra invite to Archive of Our Own that they’d be willing to part with. I’m in the midst of writing a Nagron fic that, knowing me, is going to turn into a beastly monster of a chapter fic, and I’d like to be able to post it on A03.
So if anyone has an extra invite, I would be most appreciative and would possibly have your firstborn and/or try to write a drabble for you. Preferably Nagron, obviously.
EDIT: PLEASE DISREGARD. A kind and lovely human being has answered my prayers. Thank you!
# please? # i normally never do shit like this # but the wait for an invite over there is RIDICULOUSLY long # personal # fic # help me post my porn on the internet
Spartacus - From Ashes, He Rises (Agron/Nasir)
Title: From Ashes, He Rises
Summary: It is a heavy thing, to live enough for two. (Because I don’t believe for a moment that Nasir would suddenly wilt and not be able to survive if anything ever happened to Agron)
# fic # spartacus # agron # nasir # fanfiction # because nasir would find a way to survive without agron # this is head canon and i won't be swayed # the most perfect ship in the otp sea # nagron # spartacus: vengeance # my fic
A few of us have “master posts” but I don’t think there’s anything definitive.
Yeah, I knew that you and Ashley specifically have master posts, but I think it would be nice to have a place where we can found both the wonderful fic posted on Tumblr and all of the fics on the comment fic-a-thon as well.
I feel like I need to contribute somehow, and this would be the best way, I think.
# thebittybankroll # just trying to be a contributing member of the speakeasy # boardwalk empire # fic
Do we have an archive for all of the wonderful fic posted on both Tumblr and the comment fic-a-thon?
I thought we had a delicious account, but has that been updated recently?
If we don’t have an archive/don’t have a recently updated delicious account, I am willing to offer my services (since I kinda suck at the whole ‘posting original content’ thing).
Top five kinks to read in fic.
Top Five Kinks to Read in Fic
- No talking during sex. Just noise. Because A) I find talking during sex to be unrealistic and not a lot of authors can pull it off and B) it’s really hot.
- Frottage. YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.
- There’s a trope out there, and I cannot think of the name of it, but basically it’s when a person falls under a spell or something and they literally cannot satisfy themselves sexually. I’m not talking about an actual spell that causes them to lust/love someone they don’t have feelings for (because CONSENT IS VERY VERY VERY IMPORTANT TO ME) but it’s like their lust is magnified and they can’t control it? I wish I could remember the name of the trope. The best example I can think of is this fic here.
I am trying so hard to think of more, but I don’t really read smut anymore. Sex is just…not interesting to me?
זינדיקן - Richard Harrow; Manny Horvitz.
“This man looks interesting.”
Richard inhales too quickly and quietly for even Jimmy to notice, an echo of offense somewhere in the back of his skull before the realization shifts into place: Mr. Horvitz means nothing by it, is not speaking in code. And Richard cannot begrudge him his interest.
“My associate, Mr. Harrow.”
Yes. Associate is as accurate a term as anything else. Colder than brother, softer than accomplice. Not so soft as friend. Richard blinks.
“What happened to you?”
He hears the click of a hammer. Slide of skin on metal.
I don’t know. They say it was a bullet. It felt like teeth.
“I put my nose where it didn’t belong.”
Their laughter ricochets off meat hooks, and the recognition in Horvitz’s eyes has Richard’s fingers twitching: for his gun, for his dog tags. For Jimmy, who is always ahead of him. Who looks every bit the little boy he was before he defied his father in favor of war.
Richard stares at the man, tries to decipher the recognition in his own chest, the murmur of before, I’ve seen you before. This grinning Jew that prides himself on the blood-scent of his skin, the silver in his hair that speaks to every scar he’s suffered and returned, tenfold. Little pieces in his freezer.
He thinks that in the butcher’s shoes, there may be hooves.
The soldier feels an urge to take Jimmy and run. Suffocates it just as suddenly. He let’s Horvitz’s deceptively warm voice and Jimmy’s one liners mix in the air. Let’s the deal take place. Ignores the sting in his chest every time Jimmy says just the right thing.
“Mr. Harrow will be in touch.”
Jimmy’s voice is smiling.
Dragging his gaze down their new business partner’s bloodied front, Richard considers the origins of each stain. Considers which piece of himself he would part with next, and finds he expects the cruelty of being given a choice.
A little bit of perfection, horror and awesomeness all rolled into one. I love the idea Richard sees folks for what they are more readily then others…mainly because he doesn’t have the comfort of buying into lies. Well done, and I hope you write lots and lots more!!!
Like say AR and Richard…
I am reblogging this because I hope to guilt Sadie into writing more quality fics like this for us.
# c'mon sadie # join us on the dark side # boardwalk empire # fic # richard harrow # manny horvitz
[FIC] Richard standalone- Expectations vs. Reality
Based on next week’s episode, the scene that is going to drown Tumblr in all the creys.
This isn’t how it was supposed to be.
He’s running, and the only thing he can hear are not the leaves being crushed beneath his shoes, nor the ripping of his jacket as it catches on stray tree limbs, or even the sound of his heart, beating like a drum against his chest. What he hears is a voice that he hasn’t been able to recall in the years since he came home, a voice that’s just a relic of a time that feels like a dream, just like the right side of his face. Even now he can’t quite place it. It should feel familiar, it should feel comforting, but it has the opposite effect, and he just keeps running, hoping that if he just keeps going, it’ll fade away like his scars.
There’s a small part of him that still wonders just where he went wrong. He did everything he was supposed to; he was a good son, obedient and helpful, fulfilling every chore that was required of him. A good brother, one that took his role as the big brother seriously, despite only being seven minutes older. Taking care of his sister, finishing his tasks first so that he could help her with hers, letting her have the last piece of pie that Mother baked. Maybe that was why he ended up enlisting; he already had practice in protecting others.
It was never supposed to be like this. He did everything right; he always did what he was told, even in combat. He followed all the rules, he was supposed to come home a hero.
A hero. That’s what everyone called him, even when they could barely say the word. Even when he would look at them, and they would turn their head away. That’s what Jimmy calls him, even when he ought to know better.
Quickly he realized that they called him a hero because they couldn’t bear to call him by his name. His sister was the only one who did; even as the footsteps close in like a clap of thunder, he can still hear her voice, floating through the air, clear as the birds chirping above him. Richard, she would say with the tenderness he could no longer muster. She would look him in the eye, smile at him like he was still her brother underneath the purple, mangled flesh. He never could tell her what everyone else had already figured out; that it wasn’t a hero that came home. That it wasn’t even little Richard Harrow, the farm boy, that came home. That what came home was the very thing he had tried to protect the country from, to protect her from; a monster.
No, this wasn’t how his life was supposed to be. But it is, and now he has a choice. He could duck behind a tree, pull out his gun and wait. He could conquer his enemies the way he can never conquer his demons. But there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and he would rather face the enemy than the thing that wears half of his face.
And in the end, it’ll be better this way. He won’t be a liability to Jimmy (and one day, he will be, if he isn’t already), he won’t be the monster lurking in the corner of the society that promised him more, he won’t be the dark cloud hanging over his family, hanging over his sister and preventing her from having all the things he once wanted for himself.
He stops running, and he is numb to even the gun that’s slammed into the back of his head. The ground is cold and brutal (just like his mask, just like war), but when he rolls over and the barrel of the gun slides into his mouth, he doesn’t taste metal. He tastes relief, the promise of something more, something better.
And instead of hearing the click of the gun, he hears his own voice, the way it used to sound, full of life and hope and free from all the scar tissue that surrounds his vocal chords.
This is the way it’s going to be.
# in which ashley works out her own issues through a scarred war veteran that makes scrapbooks and hoards biscuits # but it actually helped so yay # fic # boardwalk empire # richard harrow # my fic
@red-sky AR/Richard- kiss/close contact
AR finds him on the floor, fingers curled so tight around the 9mm that his knuckles are turning white with tension. He isn’t sure what happened and in the same moment he decides he doesn’t want to know either, instead he simply kneels and asks for the gun. Richard fixes him then in a gaze that looks beyond him and at him all at once and it’s all that AR can do not to break the gaze. He feels like he’s trespassed into something private in the moment and the pain that is carved into every shadow and care line of the younger man’s face is almost pornographic.
But he asks for the gun, and waits.
What am I now?
Those aren’t the words he used, nor is the cadence or intonation right but it’s what he means when Richard finally releases the few mumbled sentences he gives up (and there’s a moment that AR wonders if they’re sincere or simply payment…) and AR can give no answer.
He wants to tell him he’s still the same farm boy, the twin from long ago just a little more aged, a little more used but the words fail him because he knows how untrue they sound. He’s been feeding himself the same con for months now (months that are becoming years) and he knows he’s not the same man Carolyn married. Not Swope’s friend. Not by a long shot but the worst part is; he doesn’t feel older, not more worn out through his own plots and dealings. He feels…different. It’s not pain. It’s just being cold.
He asks for the gun again, and this time- Harrow gives it up. Maybe he saw what AR was thinking in the man’s inaction. Maybe he was just tired.
AR isn’t sure what compels him to do it either, but suddenly he has his hands cupping Harrow’s cheeks. The tin of the mask cooling his palm in sharp contrast to the warmth and stubble of Harrow face, but AR doesn’t focus on it even for a second. Instead he tilts his head and catches Richard’s lips with his own.
The kiss is closed lips but fierce; no more demanding entry then assuring him he’ll be there if and when it’s offered and if it never is…so be it. He’ll still be there. AR can smell the shaving soap and pomade of his hair and is surprised but not really that Harrow wears no cologne. Instead, there’s just Harrow to fill up his senses as he lingers near him and AR takes it in greedily, savors the scent of the younger man before pulling back.
“Mir shein boychik.” My beautiful boy. AR mumbles into Richard’s lips, not caring a moment how exposed he is, and he lingers there until Harrow sighs just slightly as if he doesn’t believe him.
Maybe one day he will.
# i woke up and saw this on my dash # and now i'm just grinning and sighing like a loon # i love this damn speakeasy # AR CALLED RICHARD HIS BEAUTIFUL BOY IN YIDDISH I CAN'T # EDDIE KESSLER TAKE THE WHEEL # boardwalk empire # richard harrow # arnold rothstein # fic
Thanks for responding to my questions! They did bring in that cute Irish fellow, so he might serve as potential temptation for Margaret. Ahhh, I just want to watch all of the season right now…
No problem, bb! Honestly I can ship Richard with anyone. Jimmy, Margaret, Angela…I can even ship him with Owen. I can even ship him with AR, thanks to the RP. Hell, I’m even down for some Richard/Pearl, even though the two never met.
Basically I just want Richard to get laid. And I want to actually see it happen as opposed to them cutting to another scene.
Really I just want everyone to get laid.
Emphasis mine. So nice to know I got folks behind my crack!ship. LOL
I blame the RP.
And also their undeniable chemistry.
Oh come on, it’s a classic boy meets boy love story! One is a half-faced war torn vet with serious issues who meets a perfectly safe and harmless gambler who wants to make him feel special…in the biblical sense. :DDDD
You may have thought you heard me say that I want a lot of AR/Richard fic, but what I said was: Give me all the AR/Richard fic you have.