#AND THE HOUND LOOKS SO FUCKING DOPE

[daemon-in-my-head]

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

Today just became the greatest day ever.

My favourite game catering to my specifc hyperfixation that's niche as fuck? YEAH BOY WERE SO FUCKING BACK

[evita-shelby]

Hunt

prequel to Chase and sequel to Stay

cw: implied sex, mentions of racism, intrusive fans, secret relationships, after effects of a bad break up. idk what else

@justrainandcoffee @zablife @mischievouslittlecreature @call-sign-shark @thegreatdragonfruta

He has never cared to be serious about any woman in his life, not the girl he had been arranged to marry before he seized his chance to leave Canton nor any woman that he took to his bed.

And yet Brilliant finds himself ruminating over the witch’s words.

Exclusive devotion.

One woman for the rest of his life in exchange for the entire universe.

Billy had meant it when he called Shelby a fool for not taking such a good deal.

The businessman then does something he’s never really done before: he sends the chorus girl away without fucking her. Before morning word on the street was that Brilliant Chang, the so-called Dope King, is off the market.

The girls do not give up, why would they when it could be any of them that he’s singled out for this next part of his life? They throw themselves at him even harder, hoping they are the one and the driving themselves mad to know who the lucky woman was.

And so the hunt for this mystery woman began.

The people in his entourage knew, but nothing could ever get them to reveal the identity of the woman who had captured his heart before he had even known it. It was a good game, to see how long until the fanatics hounding him would piece the puzzle together and solve it.

“Why are you so sure they won’t tell?” Eva asks sprawled over his chest as they celebrate the new development in their relationship by lounging in bed all day. The housekeeper had been surprised to learn Brilliant’s mystery woman had stayed the night and had hidden her disdain when he paid her for her silence when she brought them breakfast.

He would get a new place, hire the right help and stop the dirty looks he gets for fucking his woman in every way he wants. Billy had never considered settling down even at his thirty-five years.

It was high time he moves from a bachelor’s apartment and into one for a family. Eva rented her own home, paid with her own money, but Billy wanted to start this new chapter in their lives properly.

“They trained with a Shaolin Master just as I did. It would take more than a few wild girls to get them to break.” He answered with a smirk before pinning her under him for a post breakfast indulgence.

Chang Chan Nan could have made it as a fortune as a fighter had he not had a knack for business. The witch had seen him spar a few times in his dojo, mastering new forms from a master from Japan with ease.

Eva gets as wet as the Thames from watching him thrash his opponents, if she didn’t have her array of potions to help them, they wouldn’t be able to carry on like this.

“Sometimes I wish we didn’t have to hide it.” The witch admits in between kisses. She is as insatiable as him, compatible in ways that make the rest of the women he’s been with forgettable and dull.

“I want to enjoy being with you without the whole world harassing us every moment of the day for a little longer.” Chan Nan has never desired peace until this fucking year.

He liked the attention when he was the smooth-talking refined entrepreneur, but now he is the wicked chink seducing white girls into ‘white slavery’.

Eva had some notoriety, the rumors of sleeping with the Prince of Wales had been true and her status as the divorcee providing consulting services for things of this world and the next paled in comparison to his. She’s never been accused of murder, even her former fiancé’s suicide is framed on his father for ordering her execution.

“Please, if you didn’t run for the hills the moment you learned Tommy Shelby was my husband, what makes you think I would run the moment the whole of England learns I took you off the market?” she uses his real name to show how much she means it. “I am far stronger than you give me credit for, Chan Nan.”

He never uses his Chinese name with his women, and then Eva convinced him to tell her his name and teach her how to pronounce it correctly. She has never gotten it wrong.

“I know, it’s one of the many things Ilove about you, Evita.” Billy in turn calls her Evita, he doesn’t feel comfortable calling her Evie as that is what Tommy Shelby continues to call her. Just as he doesn’t feel comfortable in her townhouse even if Shelby doesn’t actually own it.

“Mhm, what else do you love about me?” the witch loves him, and he loves her. The words do not slip easily from their tongues as it would’ve been had they met before Shelby broke her heart, but they have and the wait had been worth it.

“Why speak when I can show you?”

It is always a chore to leave.

Carefully and through the service entrance of the home so no one can get hide nor hair of the mystery woman who’s making an honest man out of Billy Chang.

His driver would take her to Billy’s office where she’d take a cab home or to wherever her client would meet her. The only people they encounter are the housekeeper and her son who acts as a footman and even valet for the guests.

Even she had not seen the rabid young woman with the portable camera. By evening Eva and Billy are on every tabloid from London to Acapulco.

By evening she is subjected to another screaming match with her ex-husband. It always ends the same way these days.

“I could make you happy, just like you wanted me to.” His eyes are glassy from the tears he refuses to shed.

He is heartbroken, just as she was and just as Lucy was when she decided that she needed time away from Small Heath to find herself. Perhaps the thing Eva loathes of their situation is that while they have a rught to feel what they feel it is still a fucking nuisance to deal with them.

“You say that now, but the moment Lucy returns I would lose you again.” Eva reminds him, knows well enough that they would be in a worse bind than the first time around. As tempting as it was, Eva had a real chance at happiness now and she wasn’t going to squander it for a man who will only make her unhappy. “The three of us would be miserable, I would be your bitter wife who hates the two of you, you would hate me for keeping you from her and she would hate me for the woman I would become because of you.”

She could make him forget her and ensure she has that picture perfect life she saw in Brighton. Eva knows the words and the ingredients for the tonic, in fact, she nearly did when he finally gave up looking for Lucy and came on his knees to beg for her forgiveness. But she is not that sort of person, to bind him to her like that would remove his free will and make him her puppet.

“You wouldn’t lose me, not this time, I promise you.” Tommy hates being alone, cannot sleep at night without a warm body in his bed to remind him the war is over. “I will not have other women, no whores no Lucy, no one else but you.”

The words she had wanted to hear the day he told her he loved her and wanted to marry her. Too bad they came too late for them.

“But you will always want Lucy, and I will never be enough for you. I need a husband who has no space for anyone else in his heart or his bed.” If she sounds resentful of him telling her exactly what the witch once wanted to hear, it is because she is. She has every right to be, just as Lucy deserves to be angry at Tommy for putting them in this situation in the first place.

But Lucy never went against him, it was the one thing Eva can actually say she hates about the woman. A woman as free and as independent as Eva will always look absolute loyalty like that as a defect in the person. They may be friends, have some in common, but deep down they would never work.

Eva has never lied to Tommy. He knows that when he fucks up she will tell him even if it hurts and should their son or Finn or any member of their families is put in danger because of him, she will turn on him and he will regret ever making her do that.

Tommy Shelby knows not to push her to her limits, even he barely knows what she is truly capable of.

“And is Chang that man?” he responds in like, anger that now he is the one not enough for him,

Good. Now he knows how she felt every second of their marriage.

“Yes. I do not know if will be, but chances are he could be that man.” Eva loves Billy, the man he is with her, the man who treats her as his equal and does not try to constrain her in any way because his family does not find it proper she be as involved as she needs to be.

She is more herself with him than she was those scant months she was with Tommy and Lucy.

The Shelbys had their heart in the right place ---most of the time--- but they had the tendency to think her as Tommy’s wife and not their equal. Esme has no place at the table even if she is the reason the Lees are in their corner and manages the Betting Shop as good as Polly does.

Don’t even get her started at how well the family took their divorce.

They blamed Lucy for staying even if Tommy was the one who asked her to stay in the first place. They blamed Eva for being ‘too weak’ to handle having a disloyal husband and letting him have Lucy live with him and continue working for him. They blamed Tommy for allowing both women to leave and not force them to endure their awful words any longer.

Eva had refused to set foot in Small Heath even after the necessary apologies had been made, she won’t unless she has to. Too many people are not minding their own business in this world.

“I can’t let you go.” Not you too, he means to say.

“But you must. You are my soulmate in other lifetimes, just not this one, Tom. You have to let me go.

Just as I have.”

If only her words had not fallen on deaf ears.

Not that Tommy will succeed in ruining her new love, not when Eva’s willing to brave the world for Brilliant Chang.

[unreadpoppy]

Screenshots and thoughts part 2

arishok, I did NOT side with you for you to do this man

The happiness i had when I saw the Grey Wardens

uhhh tell that to alistair and anneliese in the Landsmeet, that felt like grey wardens messing with politics

FINALLY this bitch shows up. i will say tho, her entrance, killing the Saarebas, was really dope. Also

💀

OK AND WHERE WAS YOU TO PROTECT MOM HUH???? OFF IN SOME FUCKING TEMPLAR BUSSINESS KILLING MAGES??? CAUSE LAST TIME I CHECKED, IT WAS YOU WHO LEFT THE HOME CAUSE YOU'RE A BITCH BOY, AND ALSO, WHY IS IT HAWKE'S FAULT THAT THERE WAS A CRAZED SERIAL KILLER TARGETTING WOMEN WHO LOOKED LIKE HIS DEAD WIFE/BRIDE, WHEN SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE LOOKING INTO IT PRACTICALLY????????

C'mon first enchanter, show them who's boss

At least someone besides Varric puts some respect on Hawke's name-

I take it back

thank you fenris (and i'm sorry for fumbling your romance)

this fight was stressful and it gave me 'fighting Loghain in the Ladsmeet' vibes cause I used the same tactics. Shoutout to the mabari hound and elfroot potions. Also. CONE OF COLD YOU'LL ALWYAS BE FAMOUS

HEHEHEHE she's so mad

AYYYY CHAMPION AT LAST

Girl, I appreciate it, but it was anything but with how hard that shit was

Cassandra drinking that women supporting women juice

HEHEHEHE intensifies

bitch i'm a mage, why do you think I would take your side?

i have nothing to say, i just liek hawke in this picture, she's so pretty

HI CAN WE STOP BRINGING THAT UP? ALSO, YOU'RE THE TEMPLAR KNIGHT COMMANDER, IT WOULD BE YOUR JOB TO KEEP THAT IN CHECK

on a personal note, bitch i'm brazilian, last time the military decided they'd be fitter to rule than actual politcians, we had a 20+ year dictatorship, so fuck you

wait, I love the Grand Cleric

that's it for yesterday. Let's see what new horrors await us today

[likeadog]

EDIT: HIT IMAGE LIMIT SO WILL HAVE TO CONTINUE IN REBLOG

ok class a and b lets go

also some lore as to how im laying this lore out

dire wolf lycanthropy: the oldest and physically bulkiest type, substantially larger than others. however, they often struggle to maintain a human form (see: hound dog)

true lycanthropy: the wolves. a solid all-rounder, strongest at night and typically bulkier than the others aside from dire. includes other canis species, aside from dogs, although they vary in ways similar to how the animals do

dog lycanthropy: able to specialize further in varying breed-specific aspects, and have lived more closely with humans. strong in the daytime and find it easier to shift during the day than the true lycanthropes do.

vulpini / urocyon lycanthropy: the foxes and raccoon dogs. smaller than their canis counterparts, but more inclined towards varying kinds of magical prowess (not kitsune and tanuki per se, but bear similarities, including to other myths like reynard)

others: typically just labelled as species-- im not going through the whole list rn let me live

midoriya: turned werewolf, dire wolfdog mutt situation i will need to draw him to get it you understand

bakugo: classic wolf. like i mean come on look at this

aoyama: GOLDEN LOWCHEN LOOK AT THIS THINGGGG

mina: border collie but make it pink. that or a poodle. the collie below is a lilac merle however

WAIT STOP THE FUCKING PRESSES THERE ARE BORDER COLLIE POODLE MIXES CALLED BORDOODLES

tsuyu: crab eating fox i think

iida: siberian husky. i debated making the iida family wolves but like. i think it works best

uraraka: raccoon dog

ojiro: Classic shiba inu

denki: coyote

kirishima: long fur red japanese akita

koda: shar pei

sato: st bernard

shoji: high content wolfdog i think. that or a great dane

jirou: bat eared fox

sero: maned wolf

tokoyami: small munsterlander. geddit. bc its a small falconing dog- [shot] that or a melanistic jackal

shoto: eurasian wolf x yakutian laika

now i hear you saying "bro what about the arctic wolf" but remember we're working within different lore parameters. If Endeavor is looking to overcome the limitations of traditional lycanthropy, he's going to be looking to balance it with the distinguishing traits of dog lycanthropy including easier daytime shifting. also i think the f1 wolfdog concept lends itself more to unpredictable genetics re:touya

hagakure: arctic fox

shinsou hitoshi: dingo and im kinda feeling sable idk

momo yaoyorozu: also a wolf

awase: dhole (selected bc apparently these guys make really complicated denning cities which is dope)

Kaibara: belgian malinois

kamakiri: doberman pinscher

Kuroiro: melanistic/silver fox

Kendou: Newfoundland. Although I'm tempted to say wolfdog just to get MAXIMUM PAW

Kodai: Saluki

Kinoko: Shih Tzu

Ibara: Irish Wolfhound

WHO. wants my bnha werewolf au picks

[superninjanugget]

Look I will admit with no hesitation that i have and will dunk on the the knockoff moulin rouge, ok? but it is absolutely fucking vile to hound diana and press her for answers about the doping situation and insult her english capabilities, and force gleb to interfere in her behalf. 

if there’s anyone who should be hounded with questions about drugging a child, it is Eteri and the coaching team, not the nineteen year old who’s just there to compete. 

journalists are so VILE

[one-boring-person]

Requested by: @80s4life

I hope you like this!😊💛

What I Did To You.

Snake Plissken (Escape From New York/LA) x reader

Warnings: violence, injury, swearing, gun use

Masterlist

I have my gun levelled at his head before I've even closed the door properly, my face drawn into a fierce scowl, eyes blazing with anger. Every muscle in my body goes tense, my hand unwavering as I hold the weapon up, my leg throbbing in memory pain. Across from me, the intruder remains stood silently, his eye fixed on mine, his own hand still resting at his hip, ready to draw his pistol at any point.

"Hello to you, too." He greets me in the quiet way he always used to, his lips barely moving.

Frown deepening, I push the door behind me closed without looking at it, keeping my gun aimed at his head as I look him over. Not for the first time, he's covered in a light layer of grime, his brown leather jacket darkened in places by the dirt and lightened in others by the fraying, his boots caked in dust from the wasteland outside. His golden mane of hair is slightly dulled from exposure to the unforgiving sun outside and falls into his eyepatch, flicked out of the way every so often by a jerk of the head. A shadow of a stubble covers his chin, as it always has, disguising a few new scars I've not seen before...as well as one I know very well. Other than that, Snake Plissken has not changed at all.

My eyes narrow, grip on the gun tightening.

"Leave." Is all I say, shifting my weight onto my other foot.

"You used to have such nice manners." Snake's lip curls, the soldier taking a step towards me.

Instantly, I flick my thumb over the flintlock.

"Leave." I repeat, pulling the hammer down as the gun makes a dull clicking sound.

"No." He moves closer, standing so the gun is inches from his chest.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming here." I growl, oh so tempted to pull the trigger, "I don't know why you don't keep your distance."

A cruel smirk creeps onto his lips, eye narrowing as his head tilts to the side.

"Trust me, I didn't want to come here, either." He reassures me, "But I have no choice."

"I'm giving you a choice. Leave, or I'll introduce some lead into your diet." I retort, ignoring the burn in my arm from holding it outstretched. At this point, it's the only thing keeping us separated.

"I'll pass on both." Snake snorts, shooting a dismissive glance at the handgun pointed at his throat - now that he's standing closer, my aim only really comes up to his chest and neck, "Put the gun away."

I nearly laugh at him then, another surge of anger going through me.

"You're in no position to order me around. Not anymore." I practically snarl at him, keeping the gun where it is.

"Suit yourself. I came to ask for your help, the least you could do is be civil." He replies coldly, glaring at me now.

Again, the urge to laugh in his face goes through me.

"You came here to ask for my help?" I repeat, cocking my head in disbelief at the sheer balls of the man, "You really need to leave before I pull this trigger."

"(Y/n), we both know if you wanted me dead, I'd be bleeding out on the floor already." He points out, unimpressed.

"Maybe I'm waiting for an apology first."

This seems to catch him off guard.

"An apology?" He repeats, frowning in confusion, "For what?"

It takes all I have not to lunge at him and throttle the handsome bastard's neck in my hands, my leg flaring up in pain at the reminder.

"You know damn well what for." I growl at him, shifting off of my leg again, rubbing at it unconsciously.

Snake's eyes follow my movement, realisation dawning on him.

"I already apologised for that." He says quietly, clearly remembering back to the time I'm referring to.

It still plagues me, that one last operation we'd had to do together. Three years ago, back when we were still working together on jobs, good at what we did, the perfect partnership...except for Snake's tendency to protect his ego. It had been horrible that night, rain pelting the ground as we moved on the abandoned construction site, mud slicking our boots and trousers, foggy air making it impossible to see anywhere. I had told Snake we shouldn't go that day,  that it would be better to wait until another, clearer night, but he insisted on the raid. He'd told me that he'd "been in worse" and that this was nothing, so we took our guns, knives and other equipment, and headed out into the wastelands to deal with the threat.

At first, everything had been fine: we'd managed to get in with no problem, creeping around the perimeter, taking out guards as we went, bodies sodden and filthy now, freezing under our light jackets. It was only as we moved to go further into the site that disaster had struck. Suddenly, gunfire was tearing into the ground inches away from us, driving us back behind an old container box, flashes of light appearing in the milky fog around us, our vision obscured by the sheeting rain, the mud making it hard to retreat. We later found out we'd been ratted out to the terrorists occupying the site, and they'd set up a trap for us, hounding us from the place with rifles spewing bullets at us the entire way. We had been close to escaping.

Then I slipped on a landmine.

All of a sudden, I was flying forwards through the air, agony erupting in my left leg as the flash of light and flames exploded behind me, my body crashing to the floor seconds later. Winded and incapable of moving thanks to the pain lancing through me from my leg, I had screamed out to Snake, hoping for him to return to me, the smell of burning flesh soon flooding my nostrils as my foot caught in the blaze. Howling in agony, I had tried to pull myself out, my fingers scrabbling at the slick mud in desperation, only for the pain to become too overbearing. I had looked for Snake, only to see the back of his head disappearing towards our getaway vehicle, paying no mind to me. It was then that I blacked out, my heart drowning in betrayal and hurt.

For a week or so, I'd been held captive by the terrorists, tortured sometimes, my wounds left to fester, bones shattered and out of place, burns turning ugly over the time. Eventually, another team had been sent in to rescue me, the group getting me out before it got too far. Taken to a hospital, it took me weeks to recover, every muscle and bone in my left leg needing to be reformed almost completely, surgeries being done near-daily to realign them all, the skin basically unsalvageable. I'd had four different skin grafts from various parts of my body, only to leave the limb looking twisted and mangled, basically useless to me until I was encouraged to learn how to use it again. That entailed another half a year of time spent working on getting it to full use again, and even now I can't go nearly as far as I used to. Every so often, the leg throbs, memory pain still hounding me since the day I got the wounds themselves, but I suppose I got off lucky: the surgeons hadn't expected me to make it through.

All of that because of Snake's ego.

His apology? A note sent to me whilst I was unconscious in the hospital.

"You and I have a very idea of what an apology is. Especially for something that kept me bedridden for months." I bite out, heart aching now at the memory, "Especially for someone who left me to die."

Snake purses his lips, swallowing tightly.

"I thought you did die." He says, much quieter now, eye roaming my body guiltily.

"You heard my screams. There's no way you didn't." I reply harshly, reminded again of the raw-throated shrieks for help.

He winces, looking down at his feet now, his fists clenched at his sides.

"I didn't think you'd make it. If I went back, I wouldn't have gotten out." He murmurs, sounding somewhat saddened by what he's saying.

"You wanna know how long it took those fuckers to get to me? Fifteen minutes. Fifteen! There was more than enough time!" I spit at him, face twisted in anger.

Once again, he winces at my words, only now realising the extent of what he did.

"And even when you knew I was alive, when I was in hospital, you couldn't even be asked to come and apologise in person. You sent a damn note." I shake my head, looking at him in disgust, "You're a coward. A spineless coward. Why didn't you at least show your face? Why? Why did you leave me to face the pain on my own?"

"Because I couldn't face it! I couldn't face seeing you there, lying in a hospital bed, all doped up, cut-up and bruised because of me! I couldn't face seeing you nearly crippled because of my stupid fucking pride!" Snake finally snaps, voice strained as his eye returns to my face, pain clouding the blue depth, "I thought I got you killed, (Y/n)! I could barely live with myself because of it!"

"Then why wait until now to find me? Why not come sooner?" I question, voice tense.

"I didn't think I'd be able to face you so angry and upset. I cared - care - so much about you, (Y/n), you have no idea how hard this is for me. I've lived with this guilt for so long." He fumbles for words, unable to voice his feelings as he always has been.

"How hard this is for you? Do you have any- argh!" I cut off in pain. As I was speaking, I'd stepped forwards, my leg sending a shock of agony through me as I'd done so, making me stumble forwards.

Snake moves closer, catching me before I can connect with the floor, his arms secure around me as my hands come to rest on his muscular chest. Blushing at the proximity, I try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach, pushing off of him to sit on a nearby chair, dropping the gun to the floor. Stretching out the affected leg, I sigh in frustration, the anger residing into the same loneliness I've always felt since I got the wounds that have left me like this.

Snake watches me silently, expression pained as he finally speaks.

"Can I...can I see? Please, I want to know what I did to you."

Surprised, I give him a sceptical look, before I hesitantly start to pull my trousers down over my legs. His eye widens at the sight of the limb, lips parting slightly.

Gnarled scar tissue crawls up my leg, discoloured and tight, appearing somewhat ghostly in the light of the room. Snake stares at it in horror, grief swiftly clouding his eye now as he falls to his knees in front of me, hands lifting to hover over it. He flicks his eye up to me, asking for permission, to which I nod, gasping as he removes his gloves and gently places his hands on the sensitive skin, a shiver going up my spine. Ever so carefully, Snake runs his palms over the scars, feeling them over with hesitant fingers, his expression becoming more and more open.

After a while, he looks up, pained eye meeting mine.

"God, (Y/n), I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry..." He grasps my hips, pushing his head into my abdomen as he wraps me into an awkward embrace, murmuring apologies over and over. Shocked, I hesitantly place my hands on his head, threading my fingers through his soft hair. An old tenderness springs into life within me, reminding me of why I used to stay with him, and what his riendship used to mean to me. Over the years, I had tried to forget it, but it's impossible - as he holds me close now, I realise I've missed him more than I'd ever let myself admit.

Snake pulls away after a few more minutes, caressing my hip as he looks up at me, thoughtful now.

"What job was it you needed help with?" I ask him quietly, twisting a strand of his hair between my fingers, "I'll work with you, if you drop the ego act."

He looks surprised and glad, a smallsile pulling at his lips.

"Of course." He promises, looking away again bashfully, "I only kept it up to impress you."

I blink in surprise.

"To impress me?" I repeat dumbly.

"Yeah, I, err, I've always felt the need to. Wanted to impress you so you'd consider going out with me." He admits, blushing furiously.

I blink again, head tilting in curiosity.

"Wait, what?"

"I always wanted to go out with you. Always." He chuckles, swallowing, "I've always loved you."

"You...you love me?!"

"Yeah, I do." Snake nods, biting his lip.

"Wow..." My voice trails off in surprise, unable to compute what he's saying, "I wish you'd told me sooner."

He frowns.

"What do you mean?"

I smile sheepishly at him.

"I've always had a thing for you, too. I just never thought you even liked me full stop."

"Really?!" He looks astonished.

"Yeah, really."

He's quiet for a moment, until a cunning smirk crosses his lips.

"In that case..." Snake leans up and connects our lips, kissing me softly but passionately.

A quiet moan escapes me, my lips moving instinctively against his, kissing him back in relief. His lips are chapped, but I can't find it in me to care as I pull his head closer to me, smiling as he pulls my body into him, his chest pressed firmly against my abdomen. In his arms, I can feel the pain of the last few years starting to slip away, still hooked deeply into me but starting to lessen, my eyes falling closed with the movement of his lips.

He finally pulls away, a content smile on his face, eye taking my expression in.

"So what's this job?" I breathe out, stroking his hair.

He grins lazily.

"Ever thought about going to LA?"

[rejectory]

Motherfucker—

he ducks and crawls for it like a toy soldier in the mud. His elbow swipes the ground, rolling him crouched. Closer to standing. He reloads behind the seats without needing to look.

That’s his last round of ammo.

They’re still on bait, don’t matter their high ground’s gone to shit. Plan still stands, else how’ll you know which end to make it through to.

Except Rogers is as Rogers does off the leash, straight to switch. If Brock had a fuckin’ dollar for every time Cap’s lizard brain got victim-triggered off-path, he could stuff his mouth full of cash enough and bribe his doped-up supersoldier brain to sit, stay, roll the fuck over.

Wouldn’t that be the day.

Face tight, he shadows. He lags. That don’t matter, neither. He’s strung on an electric wire, not an inch of him loose. He whips up the stairs, combing Rogers’s twelve clear with three headshots. They ragdoll and rain down over the balcony.

His commed ear whistles with a missed shot.

Brock goes low. He pulls his net weight single-armed when he grabs one of the ones Rogers put down by the chest straps and plows his way shielded with a dead body.

“Rollins!”

Jack copies. He hounds A-Team to the kneeling row of hostages. Not the kinda sicko work you see every day.

He keeps on top of predicting Cap’s track and plays clean-up. Cap’s shield holders cross a target where his back is broadest. If Brock misses just now, just a little, he could put one right in the X. Make it look like an unclear in the cause line of the report.

He gets it hard in the vest, shoulder recoiling like he picked a gun too big for his chicken legs. He drops the body. His teeth grind on it. It rings uglier in his brain for not having expected it. He’s slapped too awake now, too hell-bent on getting back at the prick who tried.

The angle is no good.

Lip curling, he barters away his position for a double disadvantage so he can coast his revenge fantasy on Rogers’s coattails. As an afterthought, he offs the dumbass whose hands are shaking so bad he can’t stick the magazine back up his Glock fast enough.

They’re playing tag too close for comfort with four tacsuits. Down low, Wilson or Munez screams in rage. Brock shoulder-slams Rogers in through a batwing door.

On the other side, dead quiet. Seven seconds of it, just him and Cap in a haunted house, breathing wet. Smells like a gutted VHS, half-plastic. In the pitch-black, he can barely make out Cap’s shield, which means to Cap’s sauced-up eyes, Brock is as clear as a negative.

He nods.

The door shoves open.

Steve motions the rest to follow like a trail of easy pickings, careening down hallway after hallway following the fleeting steps of his second in command and he rounds the next turn in enough time to see the flash of gunpowder, the boom of a gunshot. He grimaces despite all he’s seen and he’s thankful it churns his stomach. If it didn’t, he’s not human anymore.

Brock doesn’t seem to be fazed.

He stares him down for half a second while the body gurgles its last through its brand new shiny hole and moves to pull him back to his feet. It clicks like the first tumbler into place that something’s gone terribly wrong but they’re still on the winning side. More of them down then theirs.

So he pushes on, leads past Rumlow deeper into the compound. It’s still a rescue mission. Bomb went off, triggered the remaining hostiles, but he’s gotta believe the hostages are okay. Rumlow gave them the second indication it’s not swinging their way but he can work with it. Rumlow did what was needed…he had to.

It’s what he tells himself over and over and over but that Brooklyn boy tells him no he didn’t.

They break out into the wide open of a gutted section, some sort of auditorium? Conference room for the whole of a state? It’s huge and his voice is a whisper as they file in.

A team go left, B, right. C, center. He takes center’s point, shield prepped. There’s a rustling coming from deeper within, the first of many sets of eyes turn to stare in terror at the blinding sweep of a flashlight. Voices in another language cry out and Steve can cobble together a few words. Trap is among them.

Each hostage wears a collar flashing an ominous red light and they’re chained side by side, a wire netting between each neck straining to cry for help. He tracks it to both ends of the sacrifice line and calls for the bomb squad.

A few from each team split from their group and mull over the devices, splitting further into two to handle both ends and while they work, movement in the dark above them catches his eye.

It’s a kill pit.

“RUMLOW UP TOP!” The shield bounces off the face of one of them, clatters back down, and he snags a gun from the holster of an explosives unit to lay down cover fire, drawing attention away from the line of civilians. He fires long enough to snag his shield and he’s making for the stairs.

[tiamat-zx]

“ wet floor signs are there for a reason, you know” beauyasha -LyricalPorcupine

1.1k, post-date, classic disaster lesbian energy here. You asked, and thus I shall deliver.

@lyricalporcupine Hope this is to your liking. And just for good measure... it’s also now on ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/31241612

Rated T for language, obviously.

“Babe?! Are you okay down there?!”

Upon hearing the clattering noise downstairs (like very far down) as she stepped beyond the threshold to her chambers, Beau didn’t even bother with floating down; her dope monk shit already allows her to slow her fall as is.

Yasha had wanted to grab some grub, so following what was one of many makeout sessions they shared in her room following the hot tub and firework show (Beau had honestly lost count of how many times they kept going at it like desperate teenagers, but fuck it), she headed down to the dining hall.

Beau had protested, saying that they could’ve just asked the dachsies to bring anything as they would as cats, but Yasha had insisted claiming that she didn’t want the poor puppies to do all the work. Though Beau also suspected that Yasha just wanted to go downstairs to give them all the scritches they could want.

Endearing, but scritches usually don’t result in a loud clattering noise like that. Well, unless you were someone like Yasha or Beau now that they were proper girlfriends. Seriously, this was the best night ever.

But that elation quickly dries up as Beau makes a beeline for the kitchen, her hand clawing for the door. But no sign of Yasha, just the aforementioned pups still hard at work making meals and preparing for the morning.

“Carry on, Omar.” She says as she winks and salutes the head hound of the kitchen, getting a happy “yip” in response.

Turning to the open iris on the floor, she notices that the steam from the hot tub wafts upward even this high up and Beau can only shake her head in confusion as she attempts to peer down.

Unable to see through the steam, she opts to float down this time, as the salon was a lot larger and wider than the floors above.

She wisely assumes that even with her dope monk shit, she would still take a bit of damage. And the last thing she needed was a sprained ankle.

Truly the fucking worst when you’re someone who’s fast on her feet regardless.

Making her way to the iris below, the steam rises still. And as Beau gets closer, she starts hearing noise. Namely, splashing sounds and the telltale grumbling of a feminine voice, cursing in Abyssal, if Beau is guessing correctly. And after a moment, sounds of motion and then a sudden yelp followed by a sliding sound, and then a loud thud accompanied by a cry of pain.

The steam clears enough for Beau to see the only person it could possibly be at this time of night: Yasha Nydoorin, soaked in herbal-scented hot water and skin showing a contrast of pale and red, whether from the water or from embarrassment is anyone’s guess.

Right beside her are the clothes they left behind before getting into the tub courtesy of the water slides, just as soaked as she is, along with the picnic basket from earlier. Miraculously the wine bottles survived, but the black moss cupcakes that were not immediately tossed aside from their first kiss were tragically smushed and bits and pieces of them clung to Yasha’s ivory hair.

Truly a mess, but in a way it’s still very much like Yasha.

“Babe?” Beau called out, not wanting to break the spell of this moment but still eager to see if Yasha is okay.

Yasha looks up to see her olive-skinned lover staring from above, eyes of blue and hair shorn on the sides, though you couldn’t tell as her long dark-brown hair was undone and framing her face.

“Hey, baby. Um… Sorry, I was trying to get our things.”

Beau couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yash. You could’ve just left that to the dogs. And besides...” She then points to a sign affixed to the stone tub. “Wet floor signs are there for a reason, you know.”

Yasha is left dumbstruck for a moment before breaking into a giggling fit, which Beau ends up joining her in. The sheer absurdity of the moment just has them laughing so hard they would need stitches.

After a moment, Yasha manages to catch her breath and resorts to crawling to the iris instead. “Gods, I feel so silly.”

“Yes, you do,” Beau responds as Yasha wills herself to float up to meet her. Beau chuckles as she brushes off the cupcake bits and combs her fingers in her hair. “But I love that about you.”

“Thanks.”

The two sentinels slowly float back up to the sixth floor, embracing and kissing all the while, black and blue petals still swirling around them. If this was Elysium, Beau didn’t want to leave. Not with a literal angel in her arms.

Eventually, they return to Beau’s room and as Yasha lays back down on the bed, Beau stops for a moment.

“Beau, what is it?” Yasha asks. She sees that Beau has that mischievous look on her face, a look normally worn by Jester. Yasha is on her bed, naked as a newborn, and thus she cannot help but want to fulfill an image that has been in her mind since she first thought of ideas for their date.

She opens the door through where the dogs would come in and claps her hands loudly. Yasha has only seconds to wonder what is going on before, as if like a stream, wiener dogs of amber color pour out of the door and bombard Yasha relentlessly. They waste no time nuzzling her, licking her face and arms, and getting the aasimar to laugh and coo as she gives scritches to every single one of them.

Smiling, Beau then dismisses the puppies and as soon as the last amber dog leaves the room, she finally joins her on the bed and holds her close. “Did you enjoy that?”

“Yeah,” Yasha replies. “That was so sweet, Beau. You’re always full of surprises.”

“Heh. The same can be said of you.”

For a while they lay there, staring into each other’s eyes.

“I love you, Beauregard Lionett.”

“I love you, Yasha Nydoorin.”

The rest of the night passes by peacefully. A successful first date, one for the history books.

The only thing Beau thinks about randomly is whether to have the dogs clean up the water spill before deciding against it. If the rest of the Mighty Nein end up slipping as well, not her problem.

Nah, she wants to just… be here. With Yasha. Just as she had hoped to do for so long.

And now, at long last, she can.

[finderskeepersff]

43.

Stacking my plate on the pile of plates already made by other clients here, turning around and lifted my sweatpants up. These have gone so loose on me “Cassius, you finished your breakfast, let’s talk come on” I am still here, a whole month later and I am still here. I didn’t lie to Kyle when I said I am fine here, people are happy. They are living so it’s good “shall we go to the office Cassius?” nodding my head “why not” I am a mess and I can admit that, I have been here for so long and this shit is not cheap either but I am actually just happy, walking into Henry’ office and I closed the door behind me “take a seat my friend” he pointed at the seat “friend now!?” I spat, sitting down on the seat “yes friend now, it’s like I have known you for years” he laughed “cool” stretching my arms out, I am tired actually “you have decided to shave your head bald again?” rubbing the stubble on my cheek “yeah, it’s not that bald, just the bare minimum and kept a little stubble. Getting ready for leaving I guess” licking my lips smiling “you look happy to leave, that is a good sign. I have kept an eye on you from when I first met you till now. You have drastically lost weight Cassius. But I am glad you are kind of eating, breakfast and that is it. It’s not good for you but I want to trust you when you say that you won’t have drugs, it’s this moment we have worked on Cassius and I want you to know that you are welcome to come back here at any time, but where is your mind at?” blowing out air all wide eyed “scared, I have been in this bubble where I was protected and I will be there” I will be back where I was, I know that. It was a nice break, it was nice to have a detox I guess and someone to just kind of help my mind “Cassius we spoke on something with your father, remember when we discussed about choosing?” nodding my head “my dad will always be there and I have to accept that, this is what he does to me. I can feel him looking at me in disgust right now. But I am going to get on with it, if I am right then my son will be born soon. I fucked up Henry, I was the man she didn’t want and then I have to face her? I think I will go back to Brooklyn, see my mom and bring myself to see Sofia. I fucked up, I fucked up what I had and I sit back and see what I did” shaking my head sighing out, I am just a fool.

“How can you face the person you let down, how do you just go to someone that ran from me. How do I go back to her when she left me, I am just fucked up Henry but I am. I am going to do it, I know my boy will be here soon” I grinned “you have been counting that down haven’t you?” nodding my head “I sent Sofia roses on her birthday and then flowers on our anniversary, in my heart. I am with Sofia but she is isn’t anymore. I owe her an explanation and I will give that to her but I need to build myself up, being here is draining but also I have never been at peace. You said about choosing and it’s Sofia, I can’t speak to my dad like you want me too but I can only go by my word to myself and I know what I need to do. This rest to my mind has been a long time coming” I do talk too much they say “the most clever men have breakdowns Cassius, this is not weak. You need to understand that this is not weak, what you need to do. You need to speak to your partner, you need to let her know. You are very headstrong and I have seen it, you are all about power. You are so quiet, you watch your prey and then you attack. I have witnessed when you and Lewis fought, but nobody knew he had an injured abdomen, you did. Then you knew where to hit him in the building without getting caught, you knew the cameras but I knew it was you that did it” I sniggered “he shouldn’t talk shit” I shrugged “Cassius you need to accept that you have been abusing yourself to release that pain, you need to accept that you are not weak. You will see that and only you can do that. I am happy you want to leave now, you are ok but don’t turn to drugs, your dad is your weakness and you need to fight that. You will fight that, you know why? Your son will help you, I hope you and your partner, well ex partner work it out too” Henry is a good man.

I will somewhat miss this bedroom, it was dope. I had everything I needed here but it is time to face reality, I have needed to do this. I probably look like a whole different Cassius, been here for months, probably three months or maybe longer “you ready? Your friend is not coming for you?” shaking my head, they don’t know I am leaving. I am doing this myself now “you do have my number right? Talk to me whenever you want or delete it” I chuckled holding my bags “I wouldn’t do that, you a good guy for a white person” walking out of the bedroom “thank you Cassius, and you know what your goal is, your goal is to face your demon, the guy that lives with your mom. No murdering please, I don’t condone things like that” I had to laugh “nah, I don’t murder anyone” I lied, I have but he don’t know that. Walking towards the door “you beautiful, I can’t believe you work here. But thank you for being so kind to me” I said to Alicia, she is a pretty girl and she works in this place “nice to meet you Cassius, gain some weight” hugging her “I will, kind of. Thank you for always getting me Wendys though” moving back from the hug winking at her “I was being nice, you just fix your relationship with that special one ok?” nodding my head “telling the whole world about her” Henry said “I didn’t have much else to do but talk, one day I will come back and see you my friend” shaking his hand “I believe in you, you’re a good guy” he pointed at me.

I sighed out heavily seeing Ethan, welcome back I guess. He is a whole dummy, he is not even looking my way. Walking over to him, I want to kick him but I won’t “nigga” I said behind him, Ethan turned around “woah!” he moved back in shock, his eyes bulged out “Cassius?” he spat, he stared at me “boss, wow. You back” Ethan hugged me, this nigga is really hugging me right now. I just laughed it off “calm down” patting his back “I got the jet, get you out of here. Wow! Cassius, what the fuck? Where have you been? I got a text, I assumed it was a set up but I came. Look at you boss” he touched my arm just staring at me “this is what drugs do to you, well rehab or whatever. Do I look like cancer patient?” I chuckled saying “you said it, wow Cassius. I am just happy to see you. Usually when they go Rehab they look better” pushing my snapback back to scratch my head “they do but I wasn’t eating, I didn’t eat there. I am good mentally though, still a little off but I just need to do some things but yeah. Let’s go” I am tired already, I am so used to having a nap at this time and just relaxing.

Taking my snapback off of my head and placed it on the table “you need anything to eat?” the flight attendant asked “I am good” I rejected, I don’t eat much anymore “he need a whole bucket of fat, my nigga. He is not ill” Ethan said on my behalf “you look fragile” resting back on the seat “whole bunch of shit Ethan, I can’t account for my actions when I am on a high. I had to go, I am back now but I am just tired. I am tired of this, I am going back to Brooklyn to do what I do and it’s tiring but give it me, what is happening?” I might as well start now “well niggas are shook, they think you coming back with a vengeance on some shit. The streets seem to be quiet, you know what. The Latino shit was like a bad idea, but it worked out” I laughed out “so crazy Cassius wins huh” I said through my laughter “never underestimate me on a high, I do some pretty shit stuff but I am always plotting” shaking my head laughing, so I did good “Samuel has been harassing me for Sofia’ address, he said you promised him something. He has been hounding us. I was like fuck you, we will deal with you when we can. I didn’t give no address” I forgot all about that “ok how about the club? The money?” I am sure it is open by now “perfect, this shit is fucking working. We running some of Atlanta and we got Brooklyn on lock, well New York but we just need the man behind it back. It was a good time, still is. You good now though?” nodding my head “tell Raphael, we need to run through with another opening. Miami I think” you always need to build, that is what I am thinking.

Here I am back at the house, well least I am not in rehab but here I am back at my mom’ home “you good good then?” Ethan said at the side of me “I am good, I just need to rest up in here and then I will call you ok?” dapping Ethan, let me see the family. I may rent another home around here, I am not sure at all what I am doing with myself. Walking up my drive with my bags in hand, Kyle kept on buying me so many damn clothes it was crazy. It’s weird because I have been away for so long and here I am, back at this place. Stage one I would say, it is stage one because I should be in Atlanta but I just can’t bring myself to do it, I can’t see Sofia and for her to see me in this state, it’s not it at all. Unlocking the front door, pulling it open. I stopped abruptly seeing Jasmine in front of me, she dropped her phone staring at me. I swallowed hard looking away from her “I…. I am sorry. Cassius I didn’t do it on purpose” my mom yelped out running down the steps “oh my god! Cassius!” my mother shouted running at me “Cassius, my baby boy” she hugged my torso, I couldn’t help but smile hugging my mom “you came back, I was so worried about you and look at you. Oh my god, look at your face” my mom touched my face “what has happened to you, oh my baby” my mom cried, I sighed out, I didn’t want that reaction.

My mom is staring at me still all teary eyed “Cassius where did you go? What happened to you? Look at you, have you seen yourself?” nodding my head “I am good, I am back. I just needed some time away, I am good now” I am mentally, I don’t know about physically right now “oh Cassius, I have been so worried about you. Jasmine, you need to go. You will miss your flight” I wish I cared for Jasmine going with Sofia but I don’t care, it’s like she did fuck me over but I rather she did then Sofia be on her own “where is she going?” I asked my mom “she is staying with Sofia, you are nowhere to be found and it’s so soon until the baby. You was missing on us” licking my lips just looking at my mom, she is not wrong I did “does she need any money?” I asked my mom “ask her” my mom said “oh shit Cassius is back” Josiah walked over to me and hugged me “I am back, back to business” looking up at my dad “come on Jasmine, I need to drop you off” not a word from him, he walked by me like I never left.

Rubbing my forehead, I am just tired right now “I would like to know where you was Cassius, I would like to know where did you go? Tell me that” we are alone now so she will ask “Texas, I was in rehab” my mom’ eyes widened “you went there? Wow, why?” my mom sat next to me “sometimes fighting your demons is tiresome, I was tired of helping myself. I needed that help, so much so I ended staying there for longer” my mom placed her hand on my arm “I love you son, I am happy you are home. You look so ill but you are back and back to yourself” smiling lightly “I need to deal with business, I know that” I will be going out tonight “you need to deal with Sofia, you need to see her” rubbing my eyes “I know but she has left me, it’s hard you know. I think the drugs masked my feelings towards that but when they sadated me she was the person I remembered when I woke up. I want to get Sofia back but I fucked up, how can I just go back and be like hi I am back. I ruined her Christmas, New Year, birthday. I haven’t been there, then again my son will be better without me” I really believe he will be “Cassius Carnell Warren, I will drag you to Atlanta. You need to gather yourself, I am happy you are back but you are not doing that. You can put your ego aside” my mom doesn’t understand “I fucked myself up, I could have been ok. I could have been doing my odd line here and there but I didn’t, I exposed myself to Sofia. I am not worth it” my mother seems to not want to hear me “ok but that grandchild is, you promised her that you would be a father to that baby, I have spoken to her and she told me that” putting my head down.

Sat waiting for the midwife to come back into the office, she has been gone for a while now. She went to get my results, she gave me some injection to help fight any antibodies in my blood but now I feel like shit even more. Looking down at my bump, it is crazy how much this baby kicks me and is moving, seeing him again on the screen he seems so content just sucking his thumb “I am back” Helen my midwife said “the results are perfect, everything we needed to see. So with that being said, we just need to confirm that your birthing partner is still Cassius?” I paused staring at her “erm” what the hell do I say “yes” I just said “that is fine now do you have any concerns?” nodding my head “I have been feeling very ill, I mean blocked nose, cramping, vomiting. Flu like symptoms. I am ok now but I feel very ill. I am cramping too” I find it so weird “ok, you need to stay hydrated. If you do feel bad cramping, or more than ten contractions in an hour then you need to come back” now I am nervous “the baby is fine, he is growing as he should so you shouldn’t worry. I just wanted to make sure you was ok, as it being your first baby but no worries. I am always here if you need anything else” I am glad my baby is ok “I am very nervous now” taking in a deep breath “baby can come any day now, it may not go the full weeks, it can come now” this is what is making me so nervous.

Driving with this bump is weird but I am fine, Monique has been worried so she is sending Jasmine over which will be nice to have someone around. It’s been a very lonely time, it’s just me and my bump, I have watched near everything on Netflix. I feel like I have made myself ill from stressing, so I am going to be positive and I am going to think about the baby. I am just so upset that he is not speaking to me, I have cried already about this and I can’t cry anymore about it. I just wish I didn’t love because then I wouldn’t care but I do, least tell me you will be here for the baby, Monique said for me to wait and he will be with me but I don’t know how to feel about that. I feel very much alone in this.

[dickshardblog]

202 Squats Week Two Update

Wednesday, September 4th, Day Eight: I did one set of 77 in the morning before I left for work. I did a set of 75 on first break, and a set of 50 at lunch. I was done by 1:30pm.

Thursday, September 5th, Day Nine:  I didn't do any before I left for work. I couldn't find the time. It was a hectic morning. I snuck in a set of 52 and a set of 50 before first break using the private phone rooms. A set of 50 on break, and another on lunch, I was again done by 1:30.

Friday, September 6th, Day Ten: See Day Eight. Exact repeat.

Saturday, September 7th, Day Eleven: Oops. This was a super-busy day. I went to a horror convention, watched some good independent horror, completely forgot to do any squats. Fail.

Sunday, September 8th, Day Twelve: After an accidental day of rest I was able to complete today's reps in a set of 102 followed by a set of 100.

Monday, September 9th, Day Thirteen:  I didn't do any reps before work. I did a set of 52 before first break, a set of 50 on break, at lunch, and last break.

Tuesday, September 10th, Day Fourteen: I did a set of 102 before I left the house. Well, it was kind of a staggered set. I had to pause around rep 15 or so because I was doing squats on my front porch and some guy was walking down the alley looking at me like I was some kind of freak. So I waited for him to pass. Then, I had to pause again around 27 or so as a prostitute walked the other direction down the alley yelling at someone through her cellphone. But I did 102 squats on my porch before I left for work.  I did 50 at lunch and 50 at last break.

Wednesday, September 11th, Day Fifteen: Being able to do sets of 100 at a time and not being sore the next day has led me to push a little harder. I'm sticking to the 202 squats a day, but today I shortened my reps per set to 25 (27 for the first), and have extended the squat all the way down. Previous squats have been primarily to the seated chair position, then back up. All of today's reps were full, butt-to-heel squats. I did my first set at 11:30am and my final set at 8:30pm. I feel like there's something I'm forgetting … Anywho, I also did side leg lifts — 102 on each side with straightened legs, followed immediately by 27 on each side with bended knees —and weighted hip thrusts. The backpack I bought to hold my weights had a black and white American Flag patch attached with Velcro.  I acquired a new patch at Horror Hound Weekend. It's a skeleton hand making the Metal Horns, or fucking Devil Symbol, whatever you want it to be. I mean, for most people who make the symbol, me included, it means: "YEAH! ROCK N' FUCKIN' ROLL!!!!" with no less than four exclamation points. But, hey, if you want to bring the devil into it, that's cool, I guess. The Devil is pretty dope, for a totally fictional and unrealistic Mega-Villain.

Anyway, I had some Velcro tape left over from a door screen and I stuck it on that new patch I got and I put it on my weighted pack in place of the one it came with. 

[austinomalley]

In which my tumblr becomes a GOT stream of consciousness.

1.     Dany looking at Jon!!!—displeased.

2.     Lighting these bodies on fire seems stinky and everyone is just chilling.

3.     LOVE Gendry looking for Arya.

4.     I fucking hate Dany.

5.     Love this Jamie Brienne toast.

6.     I don’t really want anymore. LOL

7.     Is Bran’s chair now electric?

8.     Ok so Dany gave Arya due...for now.

9.     I am loving Lannister brothers!!!! I’d watch this spinoff.

10.  Omg!!! Varys you are up!!!

11.  Why is Tyrion doing this?

12.  Hounds!!

13.  You’ve changed little bird.

14.  GENDRY!!! She could never be the Lady of Storms End. She just killed the fucking night king.

15.  Jamie and Brienne—no comment; just a reminder for tomorrow, but this isn’t great for me.

16.  Ugh so these two are still a thing?

17.  So, we are just ignoring incest?

18.  YOU HAVE TO TELL SANSA AND ARYA: IGNORE DANY.

19.  We need a word.

20.  WHO DOES JON THINK HE IS TALKING TO????? Arya killed the night king.

21.  Bran chime in.

22.  In regards to Bronn’s scene: Is truly no one going to die this season?

23.  Why isn’t Arya planning to go back??

24.  He’s just writing off Ghost?!!!  Wtf

25.  Jon’s an asshole.

26.  And I’m crying over pregnant gilly.

27.  “[GHOST WHINES]” may be the most heart breaking closed captioning this show has delivered.

28.  Did Tyrion tell Varys? Has he lost his mind?

29.  There goes a dragon very quickly.

30.  WHY IS IT STILL NOT SHOOTING FIRE??

31.  “It’s not your child you fucking dope”—Charles O’Malley.

32.  Varys back to killing Dany. Feels like season one.

33.  Still mad at Jon on this Ghost betrayal.

34.  “I always wanted to be there when they execute your sister.”

35.  STAY WITH ME—ugh.

36.  He isn’t a good man.

37.  Cersei’s hair is a nightmare.

38.  This has been sort of boring though, no?

39.  Please Tyrion don’t die. (But also, shouldn’t he sort of die?)

40.  Is Cersei going to shove her?

41.  Fire word did very little here.

42.  Mad Queen is not pleased.

[datingadviceonreddit]

If youre reading this im hoping its because youre also a lonely man.Ive been alone my entire life, no friends, no family. But this subreddit isnt where you want to go to learn anything about dating advice, or.... sex. This sub is full of the worst most hostile people, and if youre one of those people, maybe this may get you to take a long hard look at yourself. Today 2 girls told me my life doesnt matter, that im ugly, annoying. Im sure the women of this sub will say I deserve it and so on. But these are women who I thought were my friends, but... as an ugly male, this is always a stretch. No woman wants to be friends with an ugly male. So im hideous and deformed, im so ugly that people give me second looks because im so strange to look at. I can be so kind and generous "THATS YOUR FAULT!" says the women of this sub. "YOU FELL FOR THE TRICKS AND LIES, THAT IS YOUR FAULT!"I took some notes and wrote them down and I am going to list them here, they are valid points and im sure ill be shamed and gas lit for having these thoughts, but here we go.One big issue ive noticed is these days if it doesnt generate profit, if it doesnt bring in money, it is seen as useless. They scream and scream you need to have hobbies and skills, but mention youre learning this, or maybe reading this, or you do that; "and.... what does that do? HUH!? HUH!?!?!?!? whats that do for you!?" they are saying its useless, that it has no value, because its not wage-labor or bringing in a lucrative income.In the United States we live in a thing called a guilt based culture. A hyper individualistic and guilt based culture, its no secret that social systems exist to keep people in line; the guilt based system works well with the individualistic culture of the U.S. because you can be encouraged to feel guilty and thats your business. Women do this to men on here constantly, enforcing the "guilt" you should feel from being.... attracted to them. "uhm, its wrong to ask women out...." they are attempting to make you feel guilt and get satisfaction from it. Women hold the most power in this culture, and you have nothing you can do to them. They can treat you how they want such as telling me I am worthless, and dont matter.... you can say "well fine, never speak to me again." and they will giggle and laugh, "HAHAAA!!!!! GOOD! WE GOT ALPHAS ON OUR SIDE!"The second big thing ive noticed is the whole "its your personality" bullshit thats regurgitated on here. Its actually really inconsiderate, cruel, and dishonest to tell someone who is ugly that they are being treated like trash by women because... "their personality". Its part of this guilt based thing, they want you to look at yourself, wonder what exactly is wrong, and to sit in guilty silence.On some dating sites you can actually see who visits your profile AND what pics they look at. I had an account on one of these sites and never ever got matches, so id message random girls if I liked their profile (this will get guilt tripped im sure, as if I should feel guilty for messaging women on dating sites) id notice once they read my message, theyd go to my profile and look at a few of my pics, then.... blocked.Obviously what happened was they read my message, decided to see what I look like, saw im deformed and hideous, and blocked me. If you actually see that and say, "nah it was your personality." you are fucking delusional.On a side note as a kid one time, and this goes into social influences on our lives... I was young and riding the bus, and there was no seats open. Only 2 people to a seat they said. I saw only one seat with one person in it, and people obviously didnt want me with my deformed hideousness to sit next to them, so I sat in this open seat next to this girl, I said to her... "hey im sorry, but no other seats are open." she looked at me and started yelling "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING TO?" I told her... "uhhh you..." she goes, "youre a fucking weirdo!" and climbed over me to sit with 2 other girls... 3 to a seat which you arent allowed to do. I said "hey... i didnt do anything..." and one of the other girls (notice they are all female) turns around to say "SHUT UP! nobody likes you!"I started to cry...People on this sub, when I bring up situations like that, tell me im "playing victim" that I deserved it. Fuck... im so tired of being so alone.They claim women are cruel for their "own protection" which is the most sexist fucking thing to say on earth. As if all men are fucking animals who cant control themselves and need to be treated like shit. its an excuse to treat men bad, and is sexist.Lets move on, the third thing.... uhmm wanting dates or sex is not a fucking mental problem. If a man is struggling with dates or sex, to tell him he needs therapy and fucking mental evaluations for being curious on dating or sex, is fucking dehumanizing. Just because someone wants dates or sex does not mean they need to be doped up on psych drugs ffs.If you are seeking advice on this sub, be prepared for that. They will fucking try to diagnose you on here.I think the "youre playing victim" trope is overused as fuck... it just invalidates (i hope im using this word right) a mans emotions, its saying "get over it" in so many words.And finally, those one guys will hound you and have the women join them as symbols of how you should be...yeahhh im talking about those guys who are like "im a 45 year old virgin! and you dont hear me complaining! im fine with being alone forever right girls!" and they go "YEAH! SEE BE LIKE HIM!" while they have hook up sex with other guys and shame you for being curious about it.they are virtue signaling and trying to guilt you into thinking being alone is acceptable.Honestly, just move on to a different sub. Watch the hostility of the comments I get for evidence, they will be incoherent angry rants how "women dont make mistakes" and wont even address the issues.Evidence enough. via /r/dating_advice

[jesbakescookies]

Too Hot To Handle: Chapter Forty-Eight

So I kinda wrote a different kind of fanfiction. It’s nothing as in depth as my other fics so I am going to post it here. ENJOY!!***Actor, Real Person Fanfiction, Walking Dead RPF***Featuring: Jeffrey Dean Morgan X Original Female Character, Norman Reedus and others.. (FYI this is total fiction, as in I know nothing about JDMs life or that of his real SO and son etc. Because of this, for this work of fiction, they don’t exist. Jeffrey’s been a typical actor playboy dating fellow stars etc. This is written for sick daydreaming pleasure.)

Aria St. James is a busy woman with a thriving restaurant. She thought she had everything she needed until a few famous faces visit her dining room. A tall, dark and handsome actor decides Aria’s just what he’s been looking for.

Rating: Mature : NSFW **dirty dirty**

Find Too Hot To Handle Master Chapter List Here

Jeffrey sat with a few costars from the show, as the interviewer posed a few questions for the group. Leaning towards Norman, he whispered. "We got to see the lil’ shit yesterday." "Oh yeah?" He rasped back, a smirk curling his lip.  "Fucking insane." Jeffrey muttered. "I fucking bet. When do you know what it is?" "Not for a while. Probably a couple appointments." "That's awesome." Norman grinned, as the questions were directed towards them. 

"Jeffrey, you have the show and many other film projects. Plus all the conventions you hit, how do you balance everything?" The interviewer asked after speaking to the others about their latest projects. "Well, it's definitely hard. I travel a lot between filming locations and home. I probably spend more time on planes and in hotels than in my own bed." "That's got to be hard for the wife. You're still newlyweds right?" Laughing a bit at that, Norman chimed in, "They sure fucking act like it." Elbowing him in the side, Jeffrey rolled his eyes and drawled, "It's definitely difficult with her work schedule and mine but we make it work. Especially now with all the doctor appointments...."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Jeffrey knew he'd fucked up royally. He could literally see the gears turning in the interviewers mind as they figured out what he'd just revealed. 

Norman belted out a laugh as Jeffrey's head dropped into his hands. "Are we getting an exclusive reveal?" The interviewer asked, leaning forward on the edge of her seat. "Damnit." Jeffrey muttered directly to the camera."I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm such a jackass." "So you're gonna be a dad? Is that what you mean? Is Negan a daddy?"

His fellow cast members all laughed and congratulated him on the news but he could only think of Aria’s reaction. They weren't going to tell anyone until she was further into the pregnancy. She had a fear that if they announced it, something terrible would happen. They also feared what kind of paparazzi presence would happen with them expecting, Jeffrey didn't want Aria hounded for pictures. All that planning was thrown out the window by Jeffrey loose lips.  

"Shit." He growled before nodding and giving them a nervous smile. "Yeah, yeah we are." "Congratulations. That's amazing. How excited are you?" "I'm more than stoked to have a kid. Especially with my amazing and extremely beautiful, forgiving wife." Jeffrey added, trying to butter up the woman who would probably be removing his tongue when she saw him next. They all laughed at his words and contrite expression.

 "Sounds like you're feeling guilty. 

"He's sucking up. Ari’s going to kick his ass." Norman joked. "More than." Jeffrey muttered before speaking towards the camera again. "Baby, I'm sorry seriously... I'm a jackass. You know I'm terrible at shutting my mouth. Don't kill me." "Don't worry, I'll tell her we forced it out of you." "He's sleeping in the doghouse until the kid graduates college." Norman joked. "Fucker." He muttered under his breath.

Aria sat in her office with her laptop open and paperwork strewn across the desk. She'd been working ongetting everything in order and streamlined for her upcoming maternity leave. It was many months away but she wanted everything to run smoothly without her at the helm. Javier would take over running the original restaurant, while her latest hire at the second location would cover for her. Aria wasn't planning on taking more than a month, at least for the moment, but she needed to know her businesses weren't going to fall apart while away. 

When her phone began ringing, her caller-id flashed a picture of Jeffrey grinning like a lunatic. Smiling at the image, Aria answered, "Hello, handsome." "I'm just going to start this conversation with an apology." Jeffrey replied, his voice hoarse and slightly strained. "Oooookay," Aria drawled, her brow furrowed but lips twitching. "I'm listening." "I fucked up and I'm sorry." She couldn't help but feel a ripple of worry at his serious tone and words, the possibilities of what he could've done to warrant such a thing baffling her. "What happened?" "You know how I was at the Con today?" "Yeah..." "Well... I kinda..." he huffed, clearing his throat anxiously. "Jeff, you're freaking me the fuck out. What'd you do?" "I had a interviewer asking about us and asking how I find time to film everything and do cons and still see you... and I mean I didn't mean to say it. It just slipped out and then I couldn't shove the words back in my huge fucking mouth."

"What'd you say?" She asked, her phone beeping in the background as another call came in. Glancing at the id she saw Meagan was calling and then a few text messages flooded her phone from their publicity manager. 

"Shit." She muttered, "what'd you say Jeff?" "I said we make it work, that I travel a lot but put the effort in and then I may have slipped up and mentioned how I'll be traveling back home a lot more to make it to all your.. appointments...." "Jesus Christ." She muttered, her head thumping to the desk. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said it.. I just... fucking hell. I'm sorry, sweets. I know it's earlier than we wanted to announce it."

A knock on the office door had Aria peeling her face from the wood to see her restaurant manager peering at her oddly. "Hold on a sec." she muttered into the phone. "What's up?" "Um.. I just thought you should know that there are quite a few paparazzi out front.. if your leaving any time soon, I'd sneak out the back." "Son of bitch." She growled, while rubbing her face. "Thanks, Kelly." "No worries." "Aria." She heard from her phone. "What's going on?" "Well I was just being told there are camera men all over the front of my restaurant." "Shit." "Yeah.. Jeff." She whined, "why?" "It was an accident, doll. It just... fuck. I'm happy about it okay and you know how I fucking am. I was talking to Norm about it and then they asked and then I just... I fucked up. Don't hate me."

"I could never hate you, dummy." She scoffed, rubbing her temple as a headache began to take over. "I might sew your mouth shut though." "Come on, darlin'." He rasped, his tone soft. "How will I make it up to you, if my mouth’s out of commission."

"Oh, and how are you making it up to me?" "Well I figured I'd be on my hands and knees begging for forgiveness." "Mmm." She hummed, at the words and the promise contained in them. "Might be a good start."

"I really am sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to." "I know." She spoke with a sigh. "Good thing I know you're just a big mouth when you're happy." "I am happy." He replied, the grit in his voice causing chills to run up Aria’s spine. "Very fucking happy, sweetpea. Never been happier."

"Me neither, baby." She murmured, her eyes closing shut at the rumbled sound he released at her words. The idea that she could effect him such a way, cinching her chest and twisting her stomach. 

"I'm missin' you." He grumbled, "almost more than I can bare." "Soon you'll be home and I'll accept your deepest, most sincere apology." His rich laugh had her smiling widely, her chest loosen of its anxiety. "I can't wait, darlin'."

She tasted like honey, her mouth pliable and welcoming. Jeffrey drank her in like a dope fiend, his fingers curling into her hair and curves desperately. It'd been days since he'd been able to touch and taste his wife, the time away turning him savage. 

"Jeff." She gasped as his hands dropped to her thighs to hike her up his body as though she weighed nothing. Carrying her towards their bedroom, Jeffrey sucked a hot path along her neck while kneading her ass with large hands. "Yeah, doll." He muttered into her wet skin. "You like that?" "Yes." "You want me?" "Fuck, yes." She moaned as he climbed onto the bed while she was still wrapped around his body. "Mmmh." He grumbled deeply, his teeth nipping her collarbone and curve of her t-shirt covered tits. "You missed me?"

"Yes, so much." Aria gasped, her fingers curled into his hair as his mouth travelled downwards. Pushing her t-shirt up and over her head, Jeffrey tugged her bra down to lap a greedy circle around her nipple. His hooded gaze did not stray from her dark eyes, his mouth latched onto her breast as his hands worked her pants off. Nothing was close enough or deep enough, his mouth and hands feverishly trying to consume every single morsel. 

After stripping her bare, his mouth and tongue travelled down her stomach. He couldn't pass up the accentuated curves now taking shape above his favorite playground. Kissing around her belly button, he dipped his tongue in while watching her flushed face become desperate. Her pretty little mouth dropped open and her fingers curled into the sheets as his thumbs traced the wet seam between her legs. Nuzzling his face into her stomach he couldn't get enough of feeling the changes her body was making to care for his kid. 

Peering up at her as he slid down the bed and spread her legs wide open. "I'm going to apologize now." "Oh yeah?" She gasped, her hips undulating off the bed. Aria was squirming under his grip, her body desperate for more. "Oh fucking yeah." He growled before dragging his broad tongue along her wet core. A moan that sounded as though it originated in her toes, ripped from her lungs as she fluttered under his tongue and hands. "Mmmhm." Jeffrey purred, his mouth rutting deeper into her willing pussy. "So needy." "Yes. Please." "So fucking polite." He growled, nipping her inner thighs playfully. "You need more baby girl." "Fuck yes." Aria groaned when his fingers sunk inside. Humming while licking and sucking her lips, Jeffrey allowed his free hand to slid up her stomach to her swelling breast. He watched her carefully as he massaged and twisted her nipple, the man knowing she'd been sensitive as of late. "That okay?" He rasped, while tugging on her nipples. "Yes." She moaned, her body rolling with every thrust of his fingers and flick of his tongue. "Jeff."  "Yeah, sweetheart." He growled, burrowing into her folds to lick and suck her deeper. "Gimme what I want." "Fuck... I'm.." "You're close. Come on, beautiful."  Jeffrey rasped while panting over her soaked lips. "Cum on my mouth baby." Covering her hood with his hot mouth, Jeffrey sucked a fast rhythm as he rubbed his curled fingers on that spot she loved. The reaction was instant, as her body seemed to cave in on itself, while exploding like a live wire.

 Aria’s legs tried to clamp around his head but he pinned them down to keep her spread out and open. She whined at the action, her hips twisting under his grip, while he licked and sucked greedily on her lips and clit. 

"Jeff... please." "Please what?" The words sounding rough and breathless. He dipped his head and flicked her hooded sharply. "Please that?" "No." "Mmhm." Jeffrey rumbled into her hot core, his dark eyes looking over the appealing flush spreading up her chest and staining her cheeks. She was so achingly beautiful, Jeffrey could barely stand it. The tug in his chest from just looking at her was almost overwhelming. "Tell me." He murmured, his breath hot and heavy against her swollen lips. "Say it, darlin'." "Please fuck me." "Goddamn." He growled, before placing a hot wet kiss over her clit and climbing up the bed towards her. "You're so fucking gorgeous." "So are you, handsome." She purred, her fingers sliding over his ribs and chest, curling into his chest hair. 

"I missed you." He rasped, bumping his nose against hers affectionately. Kissing her softly, while lining himself up with her welcoming heat, Jeffrey kept his eyes affixed to hers. He rolled his hips forward with one instant thrust, parting her lips and sliding inside. Aria’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open as he sunk into her with no retreat. "Oh god." "Yeah, that's what you need, huh sweet girl?" "Yes." She panted, her eyes fluttering as he pulled back, only to plunge that much further. "Je-sus.." Jeffrey growled into the side of her neck, his teeth bared and desperate to bite something. She felt like home and it was as though the tightness he'd been carrying since he left, was gone. 

Aria brought her knees up his ribs and curled her limbs around him. Jeffrey began rocking into her, his hips slamming into her spread core.   "Yeah." He growled, nipping her jaw as she fluttered around his aching dick. "Cum. I wanna feel it." "Fuck." Aria gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades, as he snapped his hips sharply. "Do it for me, sweets." He drawled, his mouth sucking and licking her jaw and neck. "Cum for daddy."

Every muscle in her soft body became stiff, her arms and legs clutching him desperately. A whine crawled from her arched throat as he continued the thrust straight through her orgasm. He growled and moaned as she spasmed around his dick, the clenching grip becoming too much to bare. "Damn, doll." He groaned, his hips rocking hard and deep. "Gonna cum. Fuck. Look at me." Her deep eyes starred up at him, the beautiful girl with swollen lips and flushed cheeks. "You're so gorgeous." Jeffrey moaned, before cumming in throbbing pulses. He pressed his open mouth to her pulse point and sucked, while rolling his hips lazily. "So good." Aria gasped, her lips and tongue tasting his shoulders and neck. Groaning as she clenched around his still hard dick, he clutched her to his body and murmured, "missed you so much, darlin'." "Me too, handsome." Pressing his forehead against hers, Jeffrey asked, "Do you accept my apology?" Snorting at his question, Aria replied, "it was a good start."

*** I borrowed from JDM real life experience when he spilled the beans about the sex of his new baby. *****

Find Chapter Forty-Nine here:

http://jesbakescookies.tumblr.com/post/170200535401/too-hot-to-handle-chapter-forty-nine

I started posting this fic over on AO3 also. I will probably post in both places since I’m still figuring out AO3 formatting etc.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for updates. I’ll try my best to remember!

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[lornahansonforbes]

Normally I’m not that guy who has the ability to actually has it in me to “express my feelings” and gets “in touch with those feelings.” Look it’s not in my DNA. When pushed into a corner I’ll come at you like at a Gatling gun with “my feelings.” Ugh. I’m not that person.

Today I left the house and meandered around my neighborhood. I’m not exactly sure what happened but I stopped into a local coffee shop and got a Venti Latte. I’d had preferred a green juice with some pomegranate and Açaí but not today. I was in a funk since I had dinner with my friend. Was she my girlfriend, I don’t think so much. Friend with benefits? Fuck buddy? Mistress? Conquest? Whatever. It was good and it lasted but it wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before but it came to pass.

In retrospect what really happened was that this happened. Was I falling into that column where the word “serial” be associated with me? I can confirm emphatically it was not and it didn’t reflect that Louis Prima ditty remade years later by David Lee Roth.

That video was filmed in and around Venice Beach. In the video, just like today, a clean crisp beautiful unbelievable day here on Dockweller Beach. Okay I got a large chunk of my steps in this morning minus the contraption attached to me. Yeah it’s not like you’ve seen in movies and on TV as someone with a certain amount of clout looked down on you from their multimillion dollar shack like is often mentioned in enclaves of Malibu Beach. Just wanted to let you know that in Boston, there’s a place that shares the same name but that one has a view of the highway and gas tanks. Props to Corita Kent but luckily I wasn’t looking at that this morning. I plunked my ass down on a concrete Jersey barrier with my latte. A deep cleansing breath intermingled with an exasperated sigh.

Seriously, what the fuck, yo? Processing, analyzing, tabulating, parsing. In my mind, I think I saw the data, but what did it say? I’ve done this before and now I was looking at the galleys for the unabridged Cyrillic version of Tolstoy’s tome. Notes in the margins. The daily Jumble? A foreign language? Some form of dyslexia? Sigh. Could I really going to clean up a broken thermometer’s Mercury with a used piece of snotty paper? I’m solving Pi. Yeah, yeah, yeah; that’s the ticket!!

Fuck reverberated worse than some cheap sound effect of a silver ball in a pinball machine. The normal cacophony was jangling in my ears.

I clenched my hand around my paper cup and almost spilled my coffee. I was pissed. That’s right, I said it before, “Ungrateful Bitch!!” I said it with such venom and you had only sixty seconds to live.

What difference a day makes. Bull-fucking-shit. I’ve been stewing and wallowing for about a month now, but today seemed that something felt dissimilar yet did I have a different skewed view of the situation? At that exact moment I heard one of those thumper cars approaching blaring something I didn’t understand but I did hear a sound bite of “Baile, baile con General…” and the car and song are gone. Was Joy Division only for headphones? This is Los Angeles not Colby College.

Did I actually do something? I reverted my eyes back to the water in front of me. I heard the word compartmentalize on some cable news show and here I was in jeans and a tee shirt and my ratty sneakers not just contemplating why lint gets in my navel but keeping my thoughts and unkempt mop of hair under my very old Red Sox cap. I couldn’t dodge raindrops. Had I tabled my ego? Were expectations quickly quieted? Like that car a few minutes ago, did I blare or amplify some sort of acceptance? The hounds had been released at the same time as my control? Please can we do this. Wow! Does this shit actually fucking work? Ugh.

My chart didn’t reveal that as someone who knew what horoscopes and a far fetched idea of my earth sign had skirted the retrograde of Saturn yet had Scorpio descending as Capricorn was rising. I can be that Type-A personality and driven and getting in touch with my feelings was in an abyss but I’ve got them. Depends on how I get there is when I could possibly provide you my feelings and just to let you know I don’t know how I feel since I’m not understanding the question. I feel dampness. I’m on the Maid of The Mist or was I standing under Niagara Falls?

God Dammit! I was crying. I don’t do that. My jaw was clenched I’d have developed TMJ. Mickey & Minnie and Stanley & Blanche they passed away and I cried for them but that was I don’t know how long ago. Am I getting ahold of the anger in me? Maybe a word, a smile, an hour of happiness? NEXT??!! I tapped my contact list. I scrolled through the names. In a parallel universe I called you a thousand times when I know I didn’t. I just blocked you instead and I’d never know if I hadn’t seen your name in what’s referred to as “The Irish Sports page,” in the L.A. Times they’re called obituaries. I compared and related to the fact that I was standing by the gate with passport in hand but I was just standing by, yeah, that’s right; all dressed up with no place to go.

A boisterous and vociferous colony of seagulls appeared just a few yards away from where I sat and I chuckled to myself because Hitchcock would have lived for this shot. My coffee cup is empty. I knew I had to dispose of the cup, but I’m thinking recycle, reuse, repurpose or allow it to end up in a landfill? This one has the unmitigated gall to say, don’t forget that something else had been unceremoniously and recklessly tossed away.

Okay I’m writing this in my diary which will be cremated with me when that final disappointment shows up and I breathed my last breath.

Eight months, two weeks and a day. Fuck. That’s all it was, right? I’ll crack up at my own expense but this nice Yeshiva boy discovered he had eaten bacon once and that’s all you need to know. Just that one time. Don’t you dare judge me.

What I will do is judge those two from my high school days. One freely admits that they’d do anything for me if I only asked and I doubt that will happen. I’ve got family here and they’ll gladly grapple with my infirmity when and if. The other one now lives in Boston with a partner and an adopted son. I’m not in the worst shape of my life, but both women and men do have the courtesy to leave something on me so I don’t catch cold when their eyes go into overdrive.

She really hurt me. Okay I’m not that person who’d scrawl “No sale!!” if I found a check and a note that said, “Last night was dope.”

My phone beeped. Shit. I’m going to stop this and focus on my career and help them and me but I’ve got to go to Pacoima now.

Express the new challenges ahead and embrace them into existence. Fuck yeah!!!!

[starline]

Game of Thrones, Season 7, Episode 7, “The Dragon & The Wolf” Reaction/Review

- PUMPED

- I’m so nervous.

- Everything’s always about dicks.

- Dothraki are dope

- Hound what are you doing? OH. Still undead. Cool.

- Brianne!! POD AND TYRION! <3

- Aw Hound is like a weird proud dad about Arya.

- oooooh the old dragon arena

- Oh? Cleganebowl? Maybe?

- Of course Dany is gonna make an entrance

- EURON. WHAT THE FUCK. YOU DUMBASS.

- I’m so worried that the dead dude won’t be a walking dead dude when they bring it to Cersei.

- KILL IT.

- Jamie’s face when they said 100,000. D:

- Euron: “Whelp. I’m out. Call me”

- That…. feels too easy.

- Jon can’t lie. Goddamn hahahaha.

- Tyrion you talking to Cersei seems like a bad idea.

-  Aw Jamie just be good already. Be bros with Tyrion. Take Bronn. Go on adventures.

- This is Tryion Cersei scene… damn.

- Jon / Dany.   KISS ALREADY.

- UGHHHHH Littlefinger. GO AWAY. THIS IS DUMB.

- Jorah aw sorry buddy. Jon’s gonna get it on with Dany.

- Theon? What the. fuck. do. you. want.

- Jon, you’re too nice. Ya validated the boy.

- Well Theon, this would be the only way to get the Greyjoys back on your side I guess. I don’t carreeeeeeeee about youuuuu. But yeah go get Yara.

- PLEASE call out Littlefinger right now. PLEASE.

- FUCK YES.

- YEAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

- THIS IS ALL I WANTED. MY GIRLS!!!! MY WOLF LADIES!!!

- YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

- Cersei being wishy-washy is stupid. Bad writing. Bad.

- OH THEY FINALLY RESET JAMIE TO BOOK VERSION. GOOD. 

- Oh hey Sam. Hey Brann. WAIT. WAIT WAIT. YOU BOTH HAVE THE INFO FOR JON’S FAMILY.

- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YES YES YES YES YES

- NOW TELL JON

- WELL. UHM. THEY ARE FUCKING NOW I GUESS.

- WE GET TO SEE THE WEDDING!!!!e

- Wait… Tyrion why do you look moody?

- MY STARK GIRLS. MY GIRLS. YES YES YES YES.  

- :(

- Wait. Blue Fire? Blue Ice? OH IT’S HOT. HOT ICE. HOT ICE.

- SHIT SHIT SHIT.

- OH Tormoud please pleas please live.

- FUCK.

After Show Thoughts:

- MY STARK GIRLS FOREVER I LOVE THEM SO MUCH SO SO MUCH. MY FAVS ARE FINALLY TEAMED UP.

- I don’t believe Lyanna Stark would have named her kid Aegon. REALLY? He already had a son named Aegon like LESS THAN A YEAR after they ran off together. The kid wasn’t dead yet. AEGON. Really. He’s Jon Targ. Fuck that. 

[psi-psina]

The Hounds of Baskerville, a long-ass read-through.

Pt one, 221B.

I haven’t done this to an episode in years... I’m gonna preface this with a quick summary on how I read the symbolism in the show so that anyone who might happen to read this might have a clue as to what I’m talking about. The symbolism I’m referring to here is the double-meaning attached in the text to food/hunger, drug use/cravings, and tea. 

Edit: I almost forgot! Full credits to Ariane DeVere for the episode transcripts! Without her there would BE no Sherlock meta lmao.

Mirrors are:

Bluebell = Sherlock

Henry Knight = Sherlock

Louise Mortimer = John

Jaqui Stapleton = John

Corporal Lyons = Sherlock

Major Barrymore = John

Bob Frankland = Moriarty

Billy & Gary = Sherlock & John

The Fisherman & The Widow = John & Sherlock

Moriarty: Sherlock

Mycroft: Sherlock

Mrs. Hudson: Sherlock

Lestrade: Sherlock

Baskerville is the Heartroom (a depressing situation).

Note on how I read the symbolism:

Tea = Sentiment. 

Does this need an explanation. Tea is warm, comforting, hospitable, lovely, as good as a hug. Making someone tea is a universally accepted gesture of warmth and hospitality. Sherlock loves tea, he makes so much tea, he wants it ALL the time, because he’s a SCHMALTZ. He goes so far as to reject all other forms of sustenance (i.e. FOOD!) in favour of it, but no one can survive solely on tea, Sherlock! 

Eating as Intimacy and, Hunger = Desire. 

Food, and eating as an act both carnal and communal, carries meaning in all cultures and in literature the world over; the association between gluttony and lust, feasting and orgies etc, is as old as the bible, in which desire and shame itself entered the human realm via the eating of forbidden fruit. It’s permeated literature ever since. Practically speaking, food has been used to denote the other appetites in film and lit for a long, long time for reasons both practical and creative.

So in regard to Sherlock, in the unaired pilot when John and Sherlock go to Angelo’s, they equate the act of eating and the act of having sex when Sherlock pointedly uses the same phrase (“Everything else is transport.”) to field questions about his “appetites”. Then John asks if Sherlock has a “girlfriend” who “feeds him up”, explicitly framing eating (or in this case being fed) in a romantic context.

The pilot isn’t strictly speaking canon, but they have clearly carried this thread over completely into the finished version of the show, they just haven’t spelled it out quite like this, which allowed them to embed it into the show with a lot more nuance. They wait until ASiB to even draw an explicit connection between “dinner” and “romance”.  Eating is still framed very romantically in S1 but the link isn’t made explicit until later when Irene flat-out states that her asking Sherlock to have “dinner” with her is her attempt at being delicate in broaching the topic of sex with him.

In the show, eating is never framed in terms of the act of sex, but in terms of hunger (a synonym for desire) and intimacy. Hunger = Desire, in the text. It’s the simplest synonym to parse, ever.

Sherlock’s Cravings/Drug Use as Lust/Libido

They lifted this right out of Private Life. We all know, Billy Wilder said that he wanted Holmes to be a closeted homosexual who was unable to admit it, maybe even to himself, and that was the reason he took dope. Even in the final censored version of the film, it’s pretty obvious. Moffat and Gatiss were coy about what their intended approach to Holmes’ opium use was going to be in their modern setting, to the point of saying it was simply not an avenue they were going down with the character, despite heavily implying past drug use in ASiP and ASiB. This was yet another flagrant lie, and by the time HLV rolled around Sherlock was back on narcotics. His substance abuse carries the same meaning that it has/was intended to have in Private Life, but has been implemented far more creatively. You are meant to understand the talk of Sherlock’s “cravings” as being textually about his sexual cravings.

It’s also important to keep in mind the fact that they clearly distinguished between this thread and the thread wrt Food, which absolutely does encompass sexuality but is fundamentally about intimacy and sharing. It is positive, and it is always framed that way. Sherlock’s “drug problem” is framed VERY negatively. It is a negative expression of the sublimation of his sexuality.

Anyway. Food is a bit of a non-issue in this episode, the focus in this go-around is squarely on drugs and tea/coffee.

The final thing of import: Irene Adler is a mirror for Sherlock’s sexuality.

In the prologue, we see Henry (Sherlock), running over the moor, amid flashbacks of the Hound killing his father. He’s lost, distressed, confused. He comes face to face with a lady and a hound as he runs; he’s benevolent, curious, friendly. But Henry is traumatised, and with the Hound’s snarl roaring in his ears, he screams in terror when the doggie leans in for a sniffle. :(

The Morning After

Like Mark’s first episode, Hounds opens with a bang. This time as Sherlock slams 221B’s door. Like a gunshot. The camera swoops over to some little hound’s in the window of Speedy’s, heads bobbing as if to show us what’s in pursuit of him. Thematic. Nice tone setting mates.

Inside, Sherlock barges onto the scene, tense, covered in blood, gripping a huge phallic harpoon. Next thing we know, he’s cleared the blood off himself and his giant cock harpoon and is dramatically keening for a case because he NEEDS a distraction. This is the most oddly agitated and manic we ever see Sherlock, and it is not without reason, as it might initially appear. The events in the 12 months over which A Scandal in Belgravia takes place were thus,

he falls in love, bad. like ass over tit bad.

he comes to believe his feelings are, and always will be, unrequited and his hopes (however forlorn) are crushed (Battersea)

and all his WORST fears about love are consequently reasserted (Irene takes advantage of him and fucks him over, and he in turn exerts his own worst self and ruins her life out of spite. MESSY.)

So, he’s not really doing well. This episode, which takes place in the days immediately following the end of Scandal, is largely the fallout of those events. “I always assumed [falling in] love is a dangerous disadvantage. Thank you for the final proof.” Might as well be called The Hounds of Love.

So anyway, he’s practically vibrating and levitating with the force of all that maddening, doomed sexual energy he’s had pent up for over a year. He paces as John looks through the papers, scowling in disgust when John points out the photograph of him in the hat that Irene had caressed. Sherlock then screams, and slams his harpoon down before abruptly turning to John and demanding John give him some. I mean get him some. Same thing, really. Either way he NEEDS SOME and he wants John to GIVE IT TO HIM. :/

Like jhbkjlkm, could they have framed this demand anymore suggestively lmao. No. John flawlessly deadpans him and Sherlock makes a petulant face and turns away. Apparently Sherlock has tried to force himself to ditch his “habit” cold turkey (what an idiot…) and paid everyone off so he can’t “get any” for miles. Boy realises this was idiocy and hollers for Mrs. Hudson. He then begins frantically tearing the place apart looking for any stray cigarette he can suck on, BEGGING John to tell him where they are;

“Tell me where they are. Please! Tell me! Please.”

Just sayin…he begged...twice.

Mrs Hudson pops in as Sherlock throws himself across the room in search of his Secret Supply, now begging her to tell him where he keeps them. Hudders provides the tea dear, she can’t help you in this area Sherl you’ve called on the wrong mirror my boy. Hudders has no idea what he’s on about and he has another dramatic huff and grabs his harpoon again. Hudders offers to make some tea, and maybe a nice warm cuppa could calm him down enough to settle his (ahem) harpoon but-

“Seven percent stronger…” *[1]

Yeah, tea ain’t gonna take the edge off these cravings mates, he needs the GOOD STUFF.

He rounds on Hudders, brandishing his big harpoon at her (lasjflsd), and segues into a frankly hilarious and exceptionally frustrated deduction about her romantic exploits first thing on this Monday morning. He’s like, “even Hudders is out there taking names, while I am mouldering inside this perpetual hellprison two feet away from the untouchable object of my desires!!!” Also...where, exactly, do the scratch cards lead? i’m dying to know.

He inevitably goes on to point out that her beau is a worthless womaniser so she’d better not pin any real hopes on him, calling back the deductions he makes at Christmas in Scandal about Molly’s love life, which were also embarrassing projections of his own insecurity and heartbreak about the situation with John, and his bitterness and resentment toward John for his slovenly dating practices.

Yes. So in Scandal, Greg’s and Sherlock’s SO’s are sleeping with a teacher at Christmas and it is decidedly not all sorted, and Mrs Hudson (Sherlock) is in a relationship with a womaniser who’s just keeping her on the side of his main gig(s). Uncanny.

Anyway, he successfully upsets Hudders with the jab about her lover because misery loves company, and jumps into his chair, folding in on himself in agitation. John instructs him to apologise to Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock looks positively affronted. He says he envies John for his mind, for being so “placid, straightforward, barely used.” He says it flippantly, as always couching it in insult, to mask the truth in the sentiment. Because his is out of control. He’s tearing himself to pieces. His desires are trapped on the launchpad, tearing him to pieces. :/

He screams, again, that he needs a case, and John screams back that he’s just solved one by “Harpooning a dead pig, apparently.” “Apparently” indeed. This phrase is a play on the idiom “Flogging a dead horse.” As is Sherlock’s propensity for flogging corpses. They twice imply (in ASIP and TAB) that the ‘medical’ reasons Sherlock provides for doing such things are a pretext; “So, bad day was it?” And apparently he’s escalated from flogging corpses, to impaling them. :/ And I feel like this is also very much about Scandal, because:

Listen, it’s not a coincidence that the first is the closing sentiment of Scandal and the second the OPENING sentiment of Hounds, taking place the literal following day. A Scandal in Belgravia = Flogging a dead horse. The Woman (i.e., Love). Tedium. The outcome (rejection, heartbreak, misunderstanding) was always decided. Inevitable. He’s rejecting all of it.

Poor John just...perseveres through this behaviour as Sherlock flails and wriggles around in his chair petulantly. “Nothing on the website?” Sherlock huffs.

Nothing but…Bluebell. A locked room mystery! A rabbit that vanished from inside his locked hutch after he turned luminous, like a fairy! According to little Kirsty.

IMPORTANT!!: This is all about Sherlock. All this talk about Bluebell the luminious bunny is about Sherlock. Sherlock is a Bluebell. And there are some nice info’s about Bluebells:

“Bluebells have long been symbolic of humility and gratitude. They are associated with constancy, gratitude and everlasting love. Bluebells are also closely linked to the realm of fairies and are sometimes referred to as fairy thimbles.”

“Bluebells are widely known as harebells in Scotland.”

“Another name for bluebells is Dead Man's bells. This is due to the fact that fairies were believed to cast spells on those who dare to pick or damage the beautiful, delicate flowers.” [x]

“Even if it’s not forbidden to pick bluebells, you might not want to do that on account of the superstition of bad luck. Picking bluebells and bringing them to your home means inviting bad luck to enter into your life because based on many folklore, the fairies had cast a spell that will bring bad luck to anyone who dare to destroy (or pick) this majestic-looking flower.” [x]

^ Fitting for John, wouldn’t you say.

The Bluebell is symbolic of loyalty, gratitude and everlasting love, but is surrounded with superstitions of ill fate and death due to their reverent and supernatural associations. A lot like the Hound. And you will see, the Hound and the Bunny are equated once we enter Baskerville.

“What am I saying this is brilliant. Phone Lestrade. Tell him there’s an escaped rabbit!”

A genetic experiment. Out roaming the moors. Luminous. Red eyes. Not very dangerous though.

They argue about Cluedo for a moment and then at last, the doorbell rings. Client! And a wild Henry appears.

They sit watching Henry’s documentary about Baskerville. Sherlock’s eyes flick from Henry to the TV as the presenter tells us about the superstitions that surround Baskerville. Sherlock is skeptical of Henry’s fears and their interview starts out brusquely. He interrupts Henry’s reminisces, instructing him to skip ahead to the part where his dad was ‘violently killed’. John reacts to this glib remark in a way that could be suggestive, since there are hints that John’s father is also dead, and even if still living, is certainly lost to him in the way the following subtext suggests. Or perhaps it’s just a reaction to Sherlock’s general assholery. Or both.

Henry recounts his memory of his father’s death; he’s mauled on the forest floor as Henry watches on, terrified. Henry shakes as he remembers it and we then cut to…Sherlock. Also trembling, just slightly. Imagining. 

“It got him…tore at him, tore him apart…”

This brings me to the meaning of the Hound in this episode, and by extension Henry. This is the heart of this episode. The Hound is a monstrous distortion of an ordinary dog that is literally created using “fear and stimulus”. The Hound is a representation of the fear and hatred that transforms a natural, ordinary (dog) love/sexuality into something unnatural, violent and predatory. Homophobia. This is part of what turns Sherlock’s love, his capacity to love and ability to be loved, into something twisted that he is frightened of and deeply cut off from. And the nature of this memory (and now The Final Problem) makes it clear that this damage began very early in his life. So even though Sherlock is outwardly skeptical of this whole Hound business, and he clearly maintains rationally that it’s all complete nonsense, treats it (defensively) like a joke and refuses to believe it even after “seeing” it, he is still very vulnerable to the effects of said “stimulus”. Henry, as a mirror for Sherlock, represents the part of him that has been terrorised and haunted by the Hound since his childhood. The way Sherlock treats Henry is indicative of how he treats this problem in himself.

Henry (Sherlock) imagines the Hound literally tearing his father apart, and losing him forever.

Sherlock acts glibly toward Henry, who is offended by his blasé attitude about such a serious matter and we get this exchange before Henry gets up to leave.

HENRY: “Are you laughing at me, Mr. Holmes?” SHERLOCK: “Why, are you joking?”

It’s interesting, because this is the start of a particular thread about the Hound in this episode and we now have some pretty strong parallels to this thread in The Lying Detective.

People laughed at them. Delusional, paranoid, exploited, taken for a ride, played for an ad campaign, can’t tell what’s real anymore.

They are the same, after all.

But as Henry is about to leave, Sherlock stops him with his deductions, and persuades him back to his chair. So, deducing Henry (….Sherlock).

SHERLOCK: You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you’ve now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr Knight, and do please smoke. I’d be delighted.

Sherlock says he’d be delighted if Henry would smoke for him, which is hysterical to me because honestly, if Sherlock’s cravings were actually about cigarettes (ie, if this show was normal) this’d be the part where Sherlock bummed a smoke for himself. But it isn’t (about cigarettes) and it’s not (normal). So instead, once his feverish deduction is over with, we get Sherlock practically trembling on the edge of his seat as he watches Henry light up, then launch himself off his chair into Henry’s face to suck in the smoke that’s just come out of Henry’s body. :/

“Punched-out holes where your ticket’s been checked […]” SHERLOCK: The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee: the strength of the stain shows that you didn’t take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast – or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich. HENRY: How did you know it was disappointing? SHERLOCK: Is there any other type of breakfast on a train? The girl – female handwriting’s quite distinctive [Sure Jan]. Wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later – after she got off, I imagine – you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You’ve been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you’re not that into her after all. Then there’s the nicotine stains on your fingers ... your shaking fingers. I know the signs. No chance to smoke one on the train; no time to roll one before you got a cab here. It’s just after nine fifteen. You’re desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong? HENRY: No.

So Henry (Sherlock) arrives at Baker Street that morning, distressed because of ‘what happened last night’ with remnants of his ‘’disappointing breakfast” on his face and clothing

desperate for a cigarette.

No chance to smoke one stuck on the train, on which he met a woman whom he was initially interested in but ultimately indifferent to, had a ‘disappointing breakfast’ and spilled his ‘coffee’. Which he also takes black. Because he’s Sherlock. The coffee & the girl is yet another moment associating women with coffee along with the conclusion he (Sherlock) is indifferent to it/them. The detailed observations about Henry’s (Sherlock’s) smoking habit and ‘cravings’ and a few rather…erotic shots of Henry’s mouth and fingers…in Sherlock’s mind’s eye…

Doe eyes and pouty mouth ehhh...Alla this is…homoerotic. :/

I’ve always been in two minds about this deduction. This deduction is either about Irene, or about something that Sherlock actually….did the night before, when he was apparently out “impaling dead pigs”. I’ve always been inclined to read this deduction as being about Irene & the events of Scandal, which are what caused the Hound to rear it’s ugly head again and compelled him to return to the ‘scene of the crime’ after a very, very long time. It’s also the exact kind of underhanded nonsense Mark loves, he literally can’t even wait for 5 minutes to subtextually disavow any straight reading of Scandal lol.

Anyway, John then asks Henry if this story could be a product of the trauma of losing his parents as a child and we learn that Henry has a therapist, Doctor Louise Mortimer (John), who is the reason all of this is happening. Henry (Sherlock) is trying to confront all of this because of Lousie (John). “She’s the reason I came back. She says I have to face my demons.”

So Sherlock asks Henry what it was he saw when he returned to Dewer’s Hollow, what was it that changed everything? Just footprints. Footprints on the exact spot he saw his father torn apart. Sherlock is truly annoyed at Henry for this, dismissing these fears immediately and quipping “Sorry, Doctor Mortimer wins, childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring!” ....... . ..  .. .. .  . .. .. . . . .If only we could have known…if only we could have known the extent of this bullshit…that this is literally The Final Problem…in which Sherlock is facing his Final Demon s for John…because of John so he can save John…and it’s all framed as. A childhood trauma that’s masked by an invented memory of a dog…

I’m sorry but they’re so stupid and awful I’m gonna die.

Anyway, Sherlock bids Henry goodbye, reassuring him it was probably just paw prints which could be “anything therefore nothing”, not a monster, not a danger, just the fancy of Henry’s troubled mind. “Off to Devon with you, have a cream tea on me.” (Mark 😩) And on that note, he makes a beeline for his bedroom no doubt intending to rub one out immediately but then-

HENRY: Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic Hound!

Sherlock stops in his tracks. He makes Henry repeat his words, loading them with great significance, and with that cryptic bitch look on his face, he's just like “I’ll take the case.” Sherlock later reveals that he takes the case specifically because Henry called ‘it’ a Hound:

SHERLOCK: Why do you call it a Hound? Why a Hound? HENRY: Why – what do you mean? SHERLOCK: It’s odd, isn’t it? Strange choice of words – archaic. It’s why I took the case. “Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic Hound.” Why say “Hound”?

Strange thing to call a dog these days. Archaic. Bygone. Anachronistic. So with that he decides, it’s time to lay this particular ghost.

But not before being a cock about it. Poor John is baffled by this sudden development, not least as Sherlock suddenly puts on airs that he’s “far too busy” to leave London at the moment because he has to solve the case of…Bluebell a,sdjf. John looks hurt as Sherlock taunts him and acts like he’s gonna send John off to deal with Henry and this Hound bullshit on his own, as though JOHN is the one for whom the Hound is a problem, while he sits on his arse at home sulking and obsessing over Bluebell the bunny rabbit instead of dealing with ANY of his problems himself. COCK.

John just looks knowingly at Henry, and then taunts Sherlock right back, tossing him cigarettes he had hidden inside Billy the whole time. Sherlock won’t even look at them now and just flings them over his shoulder, “I don’t need those anymore, I’m going to Dartmoor.” And out he flounces. We now have a Superior Distraction. 😩

[1] Just wanted to note; this situation has progressed to the point of being fully reversed in The Lying Detective. In Hounds, he’s still abstaining from ‘drugs’ but his ‘cravings’ have overwhelmed his desire for ‘tea’, and so he begs for a fix, be it cigarettes or a case. By the time TLD rolls around, he’s fully given in to his ‘addiction’. He’s using ‘drugs’ heavily, but now he’s desperate for a cup of tea. He stops taking clients and initially blows off Faith’s bizarre case claiming it’s “too weird” for him, and ends up taking the case basically because he...Bonds with her. 

:(

tagging a few people that might be interested, i guess @sarahthecoat, @impossibleleaf, @obsessivelollipoplalala, @221bloodnun, @gosherlocked, @devoursjohnlock, @mrskolesouniverse, @smoljohnlock, @northstargrassmaiden etc :)