#donald crane

[scarycranegame]

EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP AND READ THIS.

THE CURRENT VOTE COUNT IS NOT THE FINAL RESULT.

IT WILL TAKE SEVERAL DAYS TO COUNT ALL OF THE VOTES AND DETERMINE WHO WINS THE ELECTION (POSSIBLY MORE IF A RECOUNT IS NECESSARY).

IT IS VERY LIKELY THAT THE FINAL RESULTS WILL NOT LOOK LIKE THE INITIAL RESULTS.

STOP DOOMPOSTING AND LEARN HOW THIS SHIT WORKS.

[staiyn]

more memes of Cillian Characters

[metis-iphigenia]

my lab rats hyperfixation came back and i've been doing some thinking ever since

so from the start of the show there have been multiple references to comic book heroes especially dc references

(leo saying "my new dad is batman" in the first episode and douglas calling chase "boy wonder", referencing to robin)

well since mighty med ans lab rats take place in the same universe, mighty med characters are also comic book characters and dc is a comic book series, are they in the same universe?

no because imagine superman and tecton in the same room😭😭

or bruce with his "brucie" wayne personality being "friends" with donald davenport(they cant stand eachother)

donald davenport would 100% sell his inventions to lex luthor for a really pricy deal

or chase, bree, adam and leo going to same school with tim, bernard and darla lmao

i think adam would listen and add onto bernards theories(leo would call him delusional but also would be interested)

bernard made a theory about them being bionic but darla shut it down('i told you so' and 'aha i knew it!' were the first things he said when he found out about the truth)

darla would absolutely eat trent up i just know it

young justice and elite force team up with tim and bree/chase seeing eachother and going like the spiderman meme

damian and leo being friends(lethal duo warning!!)

also damian would've believed leo during the whole marcus fiasco

leo would push damian into reading comics and damian would push leo to read mangas(canon information)

talia and horace both know eachother from being in the same field(medical) they are the type of friends who say hi and talk like 4 hours when they run into eachother but then dont talk until the next time

bree would've loved exploring her girlhood with cass, steph, harper and babs(and darla) since she never got to

marcus, taylor, rose and jason would get along very well and love talking shit about their fathers🥰

i think daniel would love duke(they played video games together later on duke let daniel absorb his powers and tried to teach him how to control it exactly)

taylor, damian, leo is a trio i would die to see tbh i think they would get along well

cassandra and skylar teaming up with eachother would be absolutely amazing. i think they would work together so well

I HAVE MORE LATER I LOVE THIS CROSSOVER SM!!

[houseofmouselove100]

Mickey asks if the three caballeros have arrived but is surprised to see Donald dressed like a rag picker to make him look like a star rather he looks like a rap star he even brought weasel lawyers

While Donald's 3 nephews danced, Donald made publicity by throwing caps and ect at the monkeys, they censured them, they did not test and Donald signed autographs.

Donald got so worked up in his head that he put up a huge sign mentioning him

[cillianmurphyfanatic]

Cillian Murphy as Agent Donald Buchanan in Transcendence (2014) dir. Wally Pfister

[disney-sega-prize-usa-database]

[ladychandraofthemoone]

REBLOGGING AGAIN FOR 9/8 DAY & A early 9/9 present 🎁🤩💚🖤!!

8/8 💚🖤🦆8x9🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏹💘

(Ignore the fact it’s 2 days late but here’s a messy doodle that I’m probably never got add final adjustments to, also another 8/8 pic yee 😆😁)

[fernandopiastri28]

Oscar is angry about carlos situation and his Miami GP result so y/n helps him relax (maybe a handjob,maybe Smut..you chose)

the city that keeps the roof blazing ~ oscar piastri

“Please,” The heat between her legs is near unbearable from how desperate he sounds, and her thighs chafe from how she’s kept them squeezed together as an attempt to relieve some of the ache of her cunt. “Y/N, I need you,”  The tips of her fingers jut down to splay across the bulge in his shorts, applying some sort of pressure to the spot. He groans, grabbing her wrist and pushing down harder so she’s fully palming him. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking all pretty and desperate just for her as she continues her ‘massaging’. “You’ll get it Osc, I promise,”

| warning ~ smut, degrading language. MDNI

Y/N’s heart thrums in her chest, an anxious sweat pooling across her back under her corset dress. Oscar’s not doing well, having taken a hit from the Ferrari of Carlos Sainz and losing his front wing as a result. He’d had to pit, finding himself in last, only in front of Logan who’d already DNFed. Her nails are bitten up, rough on the edges. She can hope and pray for at least a points finish, even if it’s just one or two, but at this point, the whole situation is looking rather dire.

If Oscar doesn’t already despise Carlos, he certainly does now. 

In the final few laps, the team instructs Oscar to basically not pull anything stupid and risk Lando getting his first win. It’s honestly offensive of them, as if Oscar has ever done something to sabotage anyone else in any circumstances. In anything, the McLaren team should be focusing on getting a penalty awarded to Carlos for his shitty stunt against Piastri or figuring out why the fuck Donald Trump is in their garage.

When a McLaren passes the chequered flag first, Y/N can’t even feel happy for Lando. She just feels fucked over for her boyfriend who’s being perfectly polite and mature over the radio but is gonna be absolutely destroyed once he’s out of shot from all the cameras and media. 

He’d been leading the race at one point, and now he’s having his first out of points finish of the year in 13th. Stupid Carlos, stupid fucking Carlos. Y/N looks around the rest of the garage at everyone jumping around and cheering for the brit’s win. She keeps her headset on, smiling politely as Oscar would be if he were here. She can’t muster up any excitement, so she’ll fake the bare minimum.

She navigates her way through flocks of commentators and team members as she attempts to find her boyfriend. “Oscar?” She has to crane her neck, searching for a papaya race suit that isn’t the one being showered in praises. As two men who tower over her push past, she bends her arm tighter to keep her bag in the junction of her elbow and close to her. 

“Y/N,” A tired voice calls out, Oscar tugging his balaclava off with one hand. “I’m not crazy right? You say that- that was all Carlos,” He pants, wiping a line of sweat that’s gathered over his top lip. Y/N rubs his cheek, applying pressure to where the outline from his helmet is especially dark. 

She nods, her hand squeezing his bicep through the thick material of his race suit. “Completely baby, you were doing so good.” She’s about to tell him that she was convinced today would be his first race win before her mind reminds her that telling him that isn’t going to make him feel better, in fact he’d probably feel even more shitty that she was expecting a win for him and he ‘let her down’.

He drops his head into his hands, letting out a noise that’s halfway between a sigh and a whine. “What is his problem with me? Because if it’s genuinely got to do with Lando and I being mates,” He groans, shaking his head in disbelief. “Just can’t deal with this right now,”

Before she knows it, Oscar’s being whisked away from her to be weighed and then dragged through endless interviews and media tasks. It’s the absolute last thing he wants to be doing, which is just going to make him more irritated and upset tonight. 

Y/N has to come up with something to cheer him up.

Something certainly. 

At the end of interviews, when they’re finally allowed to head home, Y/N slips her hand into Oscar’s, squeezing each of his individual fingers as she aligns the time of their feet hitting the floor. He just hums plainly, instead of laughing along with each pinch she gives to his digits. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Her tone is soft as they get into the car, Oscar’s eyebrows furrowed as he clicks his seatbelt in.

Oscar doesn’t need to be offered twice as he immediately shoots off into a rant. “He’s just so immature, he’s almost 30 and driving a 23 year old in his second year off the track. Each time I get blamed for it.” He starts the car, his eyes hyper focused on the road ahead as he just aimlessly insults Carlos. “I mean- he’s just an absolute idiot. I meant it when I asked if he was blind because in what reality did I deserve a penalty and he deserved a spot change?” 

Y/N keeps her eyes on him, watching as the muscles of his neck flex and tense, his cheeks getting hot, the veins in his hands becoming infinitely more defined as he grips the steering wheel. She’s ashamed of how turned on it makes her, seeing him like this. Maybe that’s exactly what he needs tonight though.

“And-and, fuck, he’s just soo desperate for another Carlando podium that he’s willing to drive me into a fucking wall just so he can stand on the top step with his precious Lando,” He mocks him, positively seeing red. “I’ve considered Logan my best mate for years longer than those two have known each other yet you don’t see me risking all of Carlos’ races so Logan can get a fucking point,” The swears are just spilling out of his mouth at this point, sounding like a second nature to a degree.

Her hand meets his thigh, rubbing it tenderly as a way to calm him down. “Keep going Osc, just let it all out,” Her voice is thick, warm, and sweet like honey. It’s exactly what he needs right now. He needs her next to him, needs her voice in his ear. 

Needs her hands on him.

“I just think he’s an entitled brat who doesn’t deserve a seat,” It’s harsh, but it’s coming straight from the heart. “I’m glad Ferrari dropped him,” It’s said accompanied with a long, drawn out sigh. He’s relieved, finally able to have gotten that all out.

Yet, there’s still a bugging sense of dissatisfaction deep in his bones that he knows he won’t get from continuously insulting the spaniard. Luckily for Oscar, he’s just about pulling into the hotel valet. 

With a single look at Y/N, he conveys everything he wants when they get to their hotel room, and lucky for him- she wants the exact same.

They maintain a sense of decorum in the elevator ride up, which can’t be said about each time Oscar has a bad race. Example, the 2023 Belgian grand prix. After his DNF, his mouth had been attached to her neck and his hands on her breasts the second the elevator doors shut. 

It had been a very awkward situation to apologise for after a family of four with two very young kids had entered the lift five flights before their hotel room.

But back to now, the second their hotel door clicks shut behind them, Y/N’s taunting him over to the bed with chaste kisses on his cheeks, each one just narrowly avoiding his lips. “You’re a crazy tease, you know that?” He groans, lacing his fingers into her hair and pulling her in for a kiss as they reach the bed. 

She replies with an ignorant shrug and a careless smirk, “It’s fun- getting you all riled up. Makes me feel like Carlos,”

Oscar’s touch sears hot against her skin, his glare even worse. “Don’t fucking mention him in our bedroom,” It’s barely a hiss, but it’s enough of a warning to keep her in line. Instead, she decides to take action on him. Her fingers drag along the hem of his polo, tantalising slowly. She doesn’t need to wonder why that is, it's the same as when he does it along the zippers of her dresses or buttons of her blouses. 

She wants him to beg for it.

“Please,” The heat between her legs is near unbearable from how desperate he sounds, and her thighs chafe from how she’s kept them squeezed together as an attempt to relieve some of the ache of her cunt. “Y/N, I need you,” 

The tips of her fingers jut down to splay across the bulge in his shorts, applying some sort of pressure to the spot. He groans, grabbing her wrist and pushing down harder so she’s fully palming him. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking all pretty and desperate just for her as she continues her ‘massaging’. “You’ll get it Osc, I promise,”

His legs are nudged apart by her hands as she sinks down to her knees in front of him. His eyes light up, his lips red and bitten up from how he’s been chewing down to keep in his whiny noises and begs. Her fingers expertly undo his shorts, poking him so he’ll lift his hips so she can pull the pants and his boxers down in one go. 

His cock doesn’t hit up against his stomach when his tight boxers are removed, instead just lays heavy between his muscular thighs. Truly a sight to be seen. “So hard,” Y/N marvels, gently sliding her cupped hand up and down his length. One pump, two pumps. “And needy,” He looks up at him through her lashes to where his bottom lip is tucked under his teeth and his cheeks are flaming red. 

Oscar bucks his hops forward instinctively, chasing the high of how good her hand, or mouth preferably, feels. He’s lucky when she doesn’t make him wait too long before she grants his wish, opening her mouth, flattening her tongue, and taking the majority of his length into her mouth. 

Y/N’s toes curl in an attempt to remove her somewhat of a gag reflex she has. Today, she wants to take him as deep as she can and make him feel as good as possible. It’s deeper than she was expecting, which is definitely a win in her books. Pulling back slightly, she focuses on the head for the time being.

A string of praises spill past his lips, “Fuck, yes, so so good.” His hand snakes into hold her hair, keeping her head in place as he gradually goes deeper. “Taking me so good, sucking me off like an angel,” Her lips stretch around his thickness, her eyes void of any emotion beyond lust as she stares up at him. 

Y/N’s tongue glides back and forth along the underside of his cock, disgustingly loud sucking noises filling up the entire hotel room. He cups her cheek, his thumb dragging along the bulging of her cheek. His hips inch forward, his cock stuffing her mouth full and moving towards doing the same for her throat. 

Y/N feels insanely good, and maybe even too good. Panic fills her head, what if Oscar’s still thinking about pleasuring her over himself. It’s typical Oscar, catering each sexual experience to prioritise her and her pleasure, even if it means he doesn’t cum as quickly as expected. Steadying her hands on his thighs,she pulls back gradually, “Fuck my mouth,” It’s not a question, suggestion, or even request. 

It’s a straight up demand.

“What, why?” His voice is more broken and weak than she’d expected. Hers is too, but that’s to be assumed when someone has a cock prodding the back of their throat. 

“Because I'm giving you head to make you feel good. This isn’t about my pleasure Osc,” Her voice is absolutely ruined and will likely be even worse by the end of this. Y/N cuts him off before he can begin to protest, which once again, she knows he will. “No but-s Oscar, just fuck my face,” He gives into the carnal desire as his hips begin to snap back and forth, burying into her throat. 

Drool spills out over her bottom lip and down her chin, her mind fuzzy without another tangible thought besides giving Oscar the best blowjob possible. Her jaw is aching but it’s ignored as she solely cares about getting him to orgasm. He huffs and groans, continuously sending praises mixed with harsh insults of calling her a slut and a whore as he gets more shallow with his thrusts, clearly very much so on edge.

She takes advantage of his situation, suckling solely on the sensitive tip as he warns her that he’s “So close Y/N, I’m ‘bout to cum,” The fact that she doesn’t budge or show any signs of slowing down tells Oscar enough. With three pumps of her hand on his cock, he’s spilling out into the wet heat of her mouth. As if time and consciousness is slipping further from her, his index and middle fingers tap her cheek to get her to pull off, then again to tell her to swallow.

Her jaw goes lax to show the proof that she did what he told her to as he takes his shirt off, gently wiping a mixture of cum and drool off her chin. Her eyes fight so hard to focus on the glorious sight of his toned abdomen and well filled in muscles as he cleans her up, but she’s so overwhelmed by the pleasure that she not only gave, but genuinely got from that experience. 

Oscar scoops Y/N up onto the bed, arranging her under the sheets so he can cuddle up against her, his chest to her back and his arms slung loosely around her stomach. “That was perfect,” He murmured, pecking at her cheek and ear as a further thank you.

Her throat does indeed ache, but it’s a worthy pain. “You’re not as upset about what happened with Car-” She can’t even finish the spanish ferrari’s name or her question before her boyfriend has his hand squished over her mouth.

“No saying his name,” He shakes his head, tutting disapprovingly. “But yes, I feel much better. Thank you babe,”

[usindistress]

THE BIG ASS LIST OF CONSERVATIVE SEXUAL VIOLENCE

NAME, POSITION, CRIME Aaron Bruns , Fox News , Possession of CP Alan David Berlin , Congressional Aide , 15 YO Boy Andrew Buhr , Committeeman , 13 YO Boy Armando Tebano , County Council , 14 YO Girl Audrey Grabarkiewicz , SBC Preschool Teacher , Sex parties for Middle Schoolers Bernard Preynat , Catholic Priest , Molestation Beverly Russell , Conservative Activist , Step-Daughter Bill O'Reilly , Fox News , Sexual Harassment Bob Packwood , Senator , Sexual Harassment Bobby Stumbo , Party Leadership , 5 YO Boy Brent Parker , State Legislator , Solicitation (Male) Brent Schepp , County Candidate , 14 YO Girl Carey Lee Cramer , Campaign Consultant , 9 YO Step-Daughter Charles Fishburne Rhodes IIII , SBC Teacher & Coach , Soliciting 12 YO Girl Craig J. Spence , Lobbyist , Solicitation (Male) Cristián Precht Bañados , Catholic Priest , Molestation Dan Crane , Congressman , Teenage Girl David Swartz , County Commissioner , 11 YO Girls David Vitter , Congressman , Solicitation (Female) Dennis Fred Rutledge , SBC Minister , Child under 11 Dennis L. Rader , Zoning Supervisor , 11 YO Girl + Murder Don Sherwood , Congressman , Domestic Abuse Donald Chrisler Batson , SBC Minister , 2 Underage Girls

[fionaapplerocks]

A wee list of musicians who are on record with their love for Fiona Apple / influence by her music:

Adia Victoria Aimee Mann Amanda Palmer Anoushka Lucas Annie Clark (St Vincent) Ariana Grande BANKS Billy Howerdel (A Perfect Circle) Caroline Polachek Christine and the Queens Corin Tucker (Sleater-Kinney) Dave Grohl Ben Weinman (Dillinger Escape Plan) Donald Glover (Childish Gambino) Emilee Petersmark (The Crane Wives) Florence Welch (Florence and the Machine) Gabriel Kahane (composer)

Halsey Hayley Kiyoko Hayley Williams (Paramore) Ingrid Laubrock (jazz saxophone) Jack Antonoff Janelle Monae Jason Isbell Jay-Z Jenny Lewis John Legend Julia Michaels Kanye West Katie Crutchfield (Waxahatchee) Katy Perry Kenny Mason Lady Gaga Lars Ulrich (Metallica) Lauren Mayberry (Chvrches) Lil Nas X Lin-Manuel Miranda Lindsey Jordan (Snail Mail) Lorde Madison Cunningham Magdalena Bay MARINA Maya Hawke Melanie Martinez Michelle Zauner (Japanese Breakfast) Natalie Maines (The Chicks) Olivia Rodrigo Mike Hadeas (Perfume Genius) Phoebe Bridgers Rina Sawayama Robin Pecknold (Fleet Foxes) Samia Sara Bareilles ('Little Voice' book) Shirley Manson (Garbage ) Sky Ferreira Solange Knowles Sondre Lerche Sophie Allison (Soccer Mommy) St. Vincent Tegan and Sarah Vanessa Carlton Yuna Zoe Kravitz

[pictureinme]

kinktober '23

first time i've ever done something like this, so forgive me if it isn't up to par! (very much ib @floralcyanide)

ao3 | main master-list

i. strap-ons - patricia 'kitten' braden ii. hate sex - jackson rippner iii. roleplay - robert fischer iiiv. collaring - paul sunday v. praise/degradation - burt fabelman vi. sex toys - agent donald buchanan vii. overstimulation - jonathan crane viii. virginity - eli sunday ix. dry humping - neil lewis x. bondage - jay (okja) xi. fear play - jonathan crane xii. semi-public - neil lewis xiii. high sex - vw guy (taking woodstock) xiv. sex tape - edward 'riddler' nashton xv. impact play - thomas shelby xvi. body worship - louis ives xvii. cum play - joby taylor xviii. wax play - jackson rippner xix. daddy - burt fabelman xx. lingerie - patricia 'kitten' braden xxi. free use - calvin weir-fields xxii. voyeurism - edward 'riddler' nashton xxiii. panties - seth (looper) xxiv. mutual masturbation - jim (the delinquent season) xxv. dacryphilia - eli sunday

[staiyn]

more headcanons

[justinspoliticalcorner]

LATROBE, Pa. — When fascism finally went mainstream in America, it came hawking a $60 made-in-China Bible and shadowed by a 50-foot American flag braced by construction cranes — and it opened with a story about Arnold Palmer’s private parts. I’d driven nearly five hours into and under the Allegheny ridges of Western Pennsylvania — up and down slopes that got steeper each mile with the volume of Donald Trump flags and yard signs that proclaimed “I’m Voting for the Convict 2024″ — out of a sense that the decline and fall of American civilization has reached a depth that I needed to personally bear witness. It was a fever dream — maybe I could find words that have eluded everyone else. Just six days earlier, Trump came to the Philly suburbs and turned a supposed town hall into a 39-minute dance party as his deeply confused crowd watched a once and wannabe future U.S. president sway awkwardly to Sinead O’Connor and Luciano Pavarotti or look utterly frozen in the bubble of his 78-year-old head. And yet when the alarm goes off the next morning, it’s still Groundhog Day in America, an election with a 50% chance of the music-trance guy winning. Something both incredibly momentous and weird is happening at the same time. Now, the sun was nearly setting over the runway at Arnold Palmer Regional Airport. With the most consequential U.S. presidential election since 1860 just 17 days away, about 3,000 to 4,000 of the most die-hard MAGA Trump fans who weren’t exhausted by the campaign and the GOP candidate’s frequent visits to Steelers’ country had been waiting for hours on a sunbaked tarmac. They’d let out the obligatory whoop for the obligatory flyover of Trump Force One, and then finally the man tasked with bringing their country back was on the podium, filtered by bulletproof glass. Donald Trump’s red meat of mass-deportation camps and R-rated attacks on his opponents would have to wait. Monday’s DJ was now Saturday night’s comedian, with his cult as captive audience. What started out as an obligatory shout-out to Latrobe’s famous native son — Palmer, the late great golfer who brought the sport to your TV screens in the 1960s — went on for five minutes, then 10, then 12. What started as a nice but meandering tale about Palmer’s working-class roots grew into a stone silence during long detours into stuff like types of golf club shafts as the tale grew increasingly instead about Trump — about how his own power and wealth allowed him to claim friendship with this great man. You are standing in the twilight wondering if this could get any stranger when of course it did. The man who bragged in his first campaign that he could shoot somebody on Fifth Avenue and people would still vote for him now wants America to know he can tell a penis joke with the cameras rolling and still get elected as the 47th president. [...] So I came to Latrobe to try and write the 72-point headline that the Times editors can’t — “PHALLUS-JOKE MAN AND DANCING FOOL COULD LEAD THE FREE WORLD AGAIN” — and to scream at the top of my lungs from the bluffs overlooking this tiny airport that this would-be emperor telling the shower story is actually wearing no clothes. Who will shout that Trump’s “closing argument” is the melding of his increasingly public breakdown with how that might lead to an all-too-real domestic war of midnight raids and armored personnel carriers against the fiction of an “Occupied America”? Ironically, Trump’s endless Arnold Palmer bit seemed part of an effort Saturday night to prove that the rambling candidate is not “exhausted,” something that his own aides reportedly said after several recent interviews were canceled. But the Republican nominee — kind of like Madonna’s “Sex” phase and shock photos when her 1980s were ending — also appeared to sense that he needs to get more and more outrageous to get attention, after numbing America to his Hitlerian language that immigrants “will cut your throat.”

Will Bunch at The Philadelphia Inquirer on Donald Trump's Latrobe rally (10.20.2024)

Will Bunch wrote in The Philadelphia Inquirer about Donald Trump’s fascist insultfest in Latrobe, PA in which he infamously obsessed about Arnold Palmer.

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 34 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

I'm running out of GIFs ahhhhhh!!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, @b00ks1ut , @mstiemountainhop, @awaterfalls anyone else please let me know.

We sat in the bar drinking and laughing. All of the nurses were giggling and gossiping over their drinks. 

When we had arrived the rest of the nurses were already waiting for us. They had saved a cute booth in the back for us to all squish into. There were so many of us girls that we practically sat on top of each other, but no one seemed to mind.

I listened to all of their stories, hanging off every word, I missed talking to women. I forgot how much more in depth their tales were, we always got every piece of information we could about the topic, even if it didn’t have anything to do with the plot. Men only had the basics they could tell a story from start to finish, but they didn’t have the fine details. 

The bar was crowded with other army personnel and members of the public. The record playing behind the bar was hard to hear over all the noise. We all had to lean in close, raising our voices to be heard over all the commotion. 

Being a group of women, we were attracting attention. Men would come and go from the table, trying to sidle up to the girl who took their fancy, but there was never enough room for them to squeeze into the booth. So they took to pulling up chairs at the end of the table, basically trapping us in. 

Unfortunately for me our group had been the last one to arrive, so I was stuck on the outer edge of the booth. 

It was fine, I had mastered ignoring them and most of them wanted to talk to the other nurses, which I was thankful for. 

I was almost sitting on top of poor Alice, who was the youngest nurse in the group. Her sweet round face and big doe eyes took in the world with wonder. She had told me this was her first time in a bar and that she had never drunk alcohol before. I watched in amusement as she took her first sips of a wine we had ordered her. 

“Oh god!” She coughed, puckering her face with the sour drink. “It burns.”       

We all giggled, as she blushed shyly.

“To Alice’s first sip!” I cheered, raising my glass, the rest of the nurses laughed and raised their glasses as we all clinked them together.   

“How are you finding it?” I bumped her with my shoulder. 

“The drink?” She asked, making a grimacing face. I laughed loudly at her naivety. 

“No, I can tell by your face the opinion you have about the drink. I meant the pub. Are you liking it?”  

“Yes, it’s very fun!” She replied in a chipper manner. 

“A bit later we should dance.” I suggested, I watched her face light up as she nodded. 

“I love dancing!” She sighed dreamily. 

“Do you love dancing? Or dancing with someone in particular?” I questioned. 

The blonde’s face blushed a deep shade of red as she dipped her head down. 

“Could you tell?”

I laughed again. Alice was so sweet my teeth hurt. 

“Yes, your big love heart eyes gave you away.” I teased. 

“He said he would come tonight, but I haven’t seen him.” I watched her crane her neck over the crowd trying to spot him, but her lip caught between her teeth. 

“I’m sure he’ll come.” I tried to reassure her. 

I spoke to Alice most of the night, it was more difficult to speak to the rest of the girls due to the noise.  

“When did you start working?” I asked, thinking she looked so young. 

“A couple months ago, they were needing more nurses since they were so short, they said they would take anyone. So I applied.” I nodded my head listening to Alice speak. 

“You’re very brave.” I told her, as she sent me a soft grin. 

“No, you’re more brave than I. You work on the front, don’t you?” Alice asked, tilting her head. 

“I did, not anymore. But I do have to tell you the scariest thing was how bad those men smelt.” I grinned as she threw her head back in fits of laughter. 

“What’s happening?” I asked as the rest of the nurses made their way out of the booth. 

“They cleared the dance floor!” Ruth cheered. “Come on!” 

I smiled at Alice and we jumped up from our seats. We followed the rest of the group onto the floor. The men had been quick to action, swooping in and stealing all the nurses away to dance with them. 

“Care to dance.” I extended my hand to Alice, putting on a masculine voice. 

“Why of course, Sir.” She curtseyed while giggling at my silly antics. 

Alice and I danced around the room in hysterics, we ignored the odd glances sent our way from the other patrons who were watching from the outskirts of the floor. 

After a while a man tapped my shoulder and asked to cut in. I looked over to Alice as her eyes became large and blush rose to her cheeks. From the way she bit her lower lip nervously, I could tell it was the person she had spoken about earlier. 

“You be good to her.” I warned, but still handed her over to the tall man.    

I watched like a proud mother, as Alice and her guy swayed together. I enjoyed watching all of the nurses dancing with their men. Their knowledge of the different types of dances amazed me. With each new song they knew the exact dance that went with the tune. After a while of watching I made my way back to the booth, waiting for the girls to finally come back to the table.

“Hey, I know you! You’re Easy company’s medic.” I startled as the random man slumped down into the space next to me. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to discreetly scoot away but he had cornered me right into the back wall. 

“I am one of them.” I said hesitantly. The man smelt of booze and slurred as he talked. Each time he spoke he lent agonisingly close, his hot breath wafting over my face.     

“You must be tired.” The drunk man sent me a greasy smile. 

“No, I have other medics who help me.” I informed the man, confused by his comment. I furrowed my brow trying to peek over his shoulder to see I could rally some assistance, or at least distraction. 

“No,” He chuckled, “from being passed around.”

I stilled, turning my head slowly to see if I heard him correctly. He looked at me smugly, my stomach twisted. 

“Excuse me?” My lip curled into a snarl, but the man was too drunk to notice.

“Won’t you let me have a turn?” He smiled at me, his hands wandered down the inside of my thighs. I gripped his wrists, trying to keep him from exploring any further.   

“Fuck off!” I snapped, trying my best to escape the corner he had me tucked into. His back was facing toward the crowd, his whole body was covering mine. I’m sure I couldn’t even be seen from the position we were in. 

“Aw, that's no way for a lady to talk. Come on, everyone else has had a ride.” The man licked his lips, I almost gagged. It was a split second decision, my head clouded by the wines I had drunk, I raised my hand. I knew it was a bad idea but my hand was already wound up behind my head. 

I slapped him across his face, sending him cowering back. 

“I said, fuck off!” I asserted, but my tone didn’t match my actions. My voice shook slightly as I came to terms with what I had done.

He looked at me in disbelief, clutching the cheek I just struck. My handprint left a red welt on his face. 

I knew from the rage that spread across his features, I had fucked up. 

I tried to scramble out the other side of the booth, but the only way to move was to scoot around the bend and then down the length of the rest of the bench. 

Not even two scoots along, he had caught up to me. His arms longer than mine reached my limbs and dragged me back. 

Pinning me to the back corner by my throat, the drunk man loomed over me. His nostrils flared as he glared down at me in disgust. 

“You motherfucker.” He growled lowly in my face. 

“No, but I did fuck your Dad.” I said mockingly. My drunk mind was taking more control than the sober me, who was in the back of my head yelling at me to scream for help. 

The man guffawed in shock. He reeled his arm back ready to strike, just as he was about to swing his wrist was captured by a hand. 

In a split second the man was gone. He was right in front of me, huffing down into my face, then in a blink of an eye he was being dragged out of the booth. 

I sat for a moment in shock, not quite believing my eyes. I darted out of the booth, following behind the man who had my assailant by the scruff of the neck. 

No one stood in the way of the pair as the soldier hauled the man through the crowd. 

“Hey!” I called out after them, as I pushed my way through the onlookers. 

I followed them outside, watching as the soldier threw the man onto the ground. The drunk rolled in the gravel before getting to his feet. Raising his fist in front of his face readying himself for a fight. 

As I looked around I saw that a group had formed around the pair, my brows furrowed as I clocked familiar faces. Bull, Babe, George, it was all Easy men.��

“What the-” I muttered under my breath before my attention was caught again. 

The drunk man lunged forward sloppily, his fist swinging out wildly trying to hit his opponent. The man dodged his attack ducking to the side and moving past the man as he ran forwards. 

He now stood facing me. 

“Donald what the fuck!” I yelled in disbelief. I had no idea how I hadn’t noticed it was him this whole time. 

Don looked over to me as I glared at him. The drunk man darted forward again, but Don wasn’t paying attention, he was too busy looking back at me. 

I watched in horror as the man’s fist collided with Malarley’s face. He stumbled back clutching his cheek, before shaking his head and raising his own fists.  

“No!” I marched forward getting ready to intervene in this stupid fight, but hands caught around my waist holding me back. 

“Let go!” I struggled against the strong arms but their grip held firm. 

“Just let him get in a good few hits, and then I’ll let you go.” Lieb whispered in my ear. 

“No, I don’t need him to fight my battles for me. I was dealing with the situation.” I raised my voice loud so Don could hear me. 

“Right like you were handling it! You were seconds from being hit in the face.” Don chimed in from across the gravel.

“Why do you even care?! You wanted space, remember?” I didn’t care who was listening. I was so angry all I could focus on was Malarkey. 

“We can talk about that later.” Don said while dodging another attack from the man. His fist snapped out from his side, audibly crunching into the man’s nose.  

The drunk man hollered in pain, collapsing into a heap on the floor. Bright red blood poured from his nose as he clutched it screaming out in agony. It was definitely broken. 

Finally Lieb let me go. I stormed out of his arm right towards Don. 

“What is wrong with you?” I shoved his chest, but he didn’t budge as he stared down at me. 

I bent down to the man who was cradling his injured face covered in his own blood. 

“Here let me help.” I offered my assistance. I reached out to move his hands away from his nose so I could see it better. 

“Why are you helping him?” Don scoffed trying to pull me to my feet. 

He was right, I have no idea why I was trying to help this man when not even five minutes ago he was groping my thighs and asking for a turn.

The drunk fended me off, “Like I want your help, you got me into this.” He growled at me as he got to his feet and trudged off. 

I was about to raise my head and have another go at Don, but before I could say anything I was tugged away and steered back into the bar and towards the dance floor. 

George twirled me round, placing his hand in mine and the other on my waist. 

“Wooh, look at you. Even when you’re about to get beaten up, you still look good.” I stared at him in shock for a second before I laughed. 

“What on earth are you doing?” I was baffled by the man as he grinned at me. 

“Come on doll, let me give you a spin.” He twirled me again, disorientating me on purpose to distract me. 

“I don’t know how to dance George!” I protested, trying to leave his arms.

“Oh, of course you do. Don’t lie to me! I literally saw you dance back in Hagenau.”  

“Well I don’t know how to do this dance.” I gestured towards all of the couples who were doing the most elaborate dances with ease. 

A Frank Sinatra song started playing over the record. George took me under my arm resting his hand on my back and holding our other hands together. 

“What dance are we gonna do?” I asked nervously. 

“The foxtrot.” George grinned at me, I gave him a scared look, but he just chuckled at me. 

George patiently taught me the steps. After stepping on his toes multiple times, I finally got the dance. 

We glided around the floor, looking like the other couples I was in awe of moments ago. I was able to actually look at George as we danced, not having to look at my feet anymore or think too hard about what they were doing.

“What’s up with you and Don?” He asked tentatively. 

I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t know, we had a fight, he said he wanted space and I guess I just spiralled from there.”

“Yeah, I brought you in for a dance cause it looked like you were about to bite each other’s heads off.” George laughed. 

“Thank you, I needed the distraction. Also why are you all here anyway?” They hadn’t said anything about coming out tonight. 

“We might have told Don how beautiful you looked and that if he didn’t come out here after you, you’d probably be swept off your feet by another man.” George replied quickly. 

“Well you were right, someone did sweep me off my feet!” 

“Who?!” George asked, looking around frantically. 

“You, stupid.” I laughed, he sighed in relief, finally getting the joke and chuckling. 

George dipped me down dramatically before bringing me up again. I giggled as he spun me round then pulled me back to him catching me before I smashed into his chest.  

The songs slowed, as the couples around us swayed gently to the music. We stood still, stepping from one foot to the other swaying to the beat. A hand tapped on George’s shoulder as we whispered to each other. We looked over to find Malarkey smiling at us. 

“Mind if I steal her away Luz?” Malarkey asked.

---------------------------------------

Chapter 35

[hells-plaid-angel]

Dean Winchester: Reading Recommendations

Because I headcannon Dean as a reader, here is a list of books that I think he would like. Some are directly referenced in the show, others are odes to America and a life on the road complete with horror, satire or complicated family issues. And, of course, some books manage to meet at the twist of the mobius strip where toxic masculinity and homoeroticism collide.

Books of Blood - Clive Barker 

Imajica - Clive Barker 

The Complete Poems - Hart Crane 

Hard Rain Falling - Don Carpenter 

Our Share of Night - Mariana Enriquez 

Catch-22 - Joseph Heller 

Iliad - Homer 

Jesus’ Son - Denis Johnson 

East of Eden - John Steinbeck

My Heart Is a Chainsaw - Stephen Graham Jones 

On the Road - Jack Kerouac 

Christine - Stephen King 

The Road - Cormac McCarthy

The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers

Survivor - Chuck Palahniuk 

The Moviegoer - Walker Percy

The Devil All the Time - Donald Ray Pollock

A Season in Hell - Arthur Rimbaud

Crush - Richard Siken

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - Hunter S. Thompson

Cat’s Cradle - Kurt Vonnegut 

Slaughterhouse Five - Kurt Vonnegut

Time is a Mother - Ocean Vuong

Leaves of Grass - Walt Whitman 

Butcher’s Crossing - John Williams 

[disney-sega-prize-usa-database]