#i don't think it makes sense for John to fuck her name up that many times after becoming John

[alchemistc]

(dys)functional | bucktommy 1/1

an: the hockey au keeps growing, have some tommy whump in the meantime

read on ao3

"Hey," Tommy says, rolling the word over his tongue, letting the door close behind him and leaning his head back against it as it goes. Evan glances up, and immediately sets the knife in his hands down, expression going concerned the moment he sees the look on Tommy's face.

"Uh wha - what's wrong?"

The concern in his voice is ratcheted up in a way Tommy doesn't quite understand - he knows the look on his face is a little resigned but Evan looks stressed. "I'm gonna have to reschedule our weekend," he tells him, already shifting away from the door, moving in, chasing after the distressed little tilt of Evan's head, completely incapable of not trying to fix it even though his mind is going in about fifty different directions, right now.

Around the corner of the island, into Evan's space, and Evan melts just enough for Tommy to get his hands around Evan's hips. "Is everything okay?"

Tommy grimaces. "Not - not really, no. I've got to catch a flight in about six hours."

Evan goes stiff under his hands. "O-okay."

There's an art to fully grasping his tone, in these moments. He's - not an easy read, exactly, because his default seems to always be doing a terrible job of hiding whatever it is he's feeling, but that doesn't actually mean he's not masking the actual issue. It's confusion, mostly, maybe a little bit of hurt, a quiet sense of foreboding in his expression as he leans back to get a good look at Tommy's face, like he's searching for an answer for a question he doesn't know if he's allowed to ask.

Evan shifts impatiently, stormy expression clearing up. "Can - do you need to -" He makes a face Tommy knows is aimed at himself, a little recrimination for not being able to gather up the proper words in the proper order. He pulls in a deep breath. "Okay, so this is maybe too much to throw at you right now but those are kinda famous last words for me and I'm - will you tell me why so I'm not thinking up worst case scenarios here?"

Tommy slides in, fingers curling into the hem of Evan's shirt, gripping, tugging just enough that they both drift into one another. "It's my father." Brow furrowed, Evan nods, and waits, still rigid in the circle of Tommy's arms. And Tommy really does have to leave, soon, pack an overnight bag and try to get a couple hours of sleep before the slog to John Wayne, but he's a little concerned that leaving right now is going to send Evan into a tailspin. Thank God he'd decided to drive over first, tell him in person - he's missing a heap of context here but clearly a phone call would have been the wrong move. "He's - I have to..."

Evan knows the basics, bare minimum shit because Tommy hates acknowledging how much his father had fucked him up, how many years of therapy have been required to untangle the dad shaped knots in his brain.

"I don't really have all the details, yet, but my uncle called and I - I'm needed, apparently. I don't." Tommy has felt wrong-footed since the moment the name flashed across his phone screen, he doesn't talk to them, to any of them, and now his uncle has given him a vague 'Tom you need to come home, it's your pop' and his sister isn't answering her messages. Tommy takes a breath, realizes his hands have tightened into fists in the seams of Evan's shirt. "What do you mean famous last words?"

Evan is studying him carefully, elbows bowed behind him because he's got his palms curled around Tommy's fists, eyes shifting over Tommy's face, and Tommy knows he's seeing the shit Tommy likes to keep under lock and key. "It - it can wait. Tommy, do you need me to come with you?" Head tilted, gaze assessing, fingers shifting, soothing over the stretched tight skin of Tommy's knuckles.

It's too soon for that. He doesn't want Evan to see that part of him, the piece of the puzzle that Tommy has had to chip at, and shave and sand down to make fit, that ugly little part of his life he'd shed the day he'd set his house key on the dining room table and left for boot camp.

It's not too soon - he doesn't want Evan to ever see that.

He's also suddenly incredibly aware of how nice it would be to finally, finally have someone he knows is in his corner for whatever bullshit he's ten hours away from walking into. His grip loosens and Evan seizes the opportunity, awkwardly lacing his fingers through Tommy's. It's a weird angle, uncomfortable with the current positioning of their arms, but it feels a bit like a lifeline. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not. I'm offering."

There's a stubborn part of him that doesn't want to accept. He's kept his life out here so separate; even Sal, who'd kept all his other secrets for going on a decade, barely knows shit about his family. He has a good life, rich and fulfilling. Out here. He's got Evan, who'd do practically anything for his friends, his family. Tommy can't justify subjecting him to whatever garbage the Kinard's have going on three thousand miles across the country.

Evan tugs at his hands, shifting his weight enough to send Tommy stumbling half a step into him. Toe to toe, gazes catching again, because Evan is seeking him out, Tommy feels some of the weight lift off his shoulders.

"Okay."

It gives him the excuse of leaving as soon as possible, once he gets there, at the very least.

Evan nods. Whatever weird tension he'd been carrying ebbs from his shoulders and Tommy puts a pin in that - he's spiraling and upset but for a second Evan had been, too, and he needs to circle back to that when he can think straight.

He's got his phone out, free hand digging into Tommy's front pocket, and Tommy blinks, tries to think of something clever to say, something flirty and wry. They were supposed to go out tonight: dinner, maybe dancing, after, if Tommy could convince him. Then a three day stretch of matching days off - a drive up the coast, a little rental within walking distance of a beach, a seafood place that made a lobster roll almost as good as the ones up in Maine. He'd been contemplating whether or not it was too early to bring up Evan's lease.

Evan fishes Tommy's phone out and presses in his passcode without a second thought, and something eases in Tommy's chest. He trusts Evan. Has trusted him, consistently, unquestioningly - he'd given him his passcode on a whim when the screen went dark on it halfway through Evan adding his food to whatever they'd been in the middle of ordering in before Evan got derailed by a story about the anatomy of seahorses.

"Did you already book a flight?"

Tommy nods. Points out the Southwest icon he'd moved to his home screen for easy access.

He doesn't argue when Evan guides him around the island to one of the stools, there, fight and flight both losing out to freeze as Evan takes charge.

It's not their usual dynamic. Evan has been happy to set the pace, but once he takes his cues from him, Tommy's typically the one taking point. But Tommy feels unmoored, and it's nice, actually, to have Evan press a kiss to his temple, to pull up his flight information, to squeeze Tommy's shoulder as he books a second ticket on the credit card Tommy's really only let him use once or twice, happy to be seeing someone who will actually let him pay more than his fair share, who seems flattered that Tommy's always got his wallet out before Evan even thinks to reach for his.

Everything's a bit jumbled. He's halfway to Jersey already, maybe, pulled into the riptide and dashed against the rocks of Richard Kinard's bullshit, he doesn't even know why he's going, just that his uncle had told him he needed to come. He comes up for air feeling battered and bruised when Evan rubs a hand down his shoulder, over his arm, up again with harder pressure as his palm shifts down and over his spine.

Evan's face hovers close to his. "I'm just gonna call Bobby, and then we can pick up something to eat on the way over to your place." The upside to having something already planned is that Evan's already got a bag packed with everything he'll need to travel.

It sounds so simple, so effortless, and Tommy's throat feels tight when he swallows. He gets two fingers into Evan's belt loop before he can pull away, and Evan comes easily, stepping into the spread of Tommy's legs, forehead coming down the few inches to meet Tommy's. "You - thank you."

"Of course," Evan says, a little wry, an echo of Tommy's own favorite phrase whenever Evan gets a little caught up in the way Tommy keeps showing up for him. He gets it, now. It's been instinct, really, to be there when Evan asked, to try his damnedest to make it to the things he's promised to be there for - nothing particularly remarkable about it, in Tommy's mind, but Tommy's starting to see the larger picture. It's grounding, it's comforting, it is actually a little remarkable to be on the receiving end of it. It feels like devotion.

Tommy rolls his forehead, curls a hand up over Evan's shoulder, his neck, fingers catching in his hair, along the curl of his ear. When he blinks and meets Evan's gaze, there's something in his eyes that Tommy isn't sure either one of them is actually ready for, but then, they haven't really stumbled on their way through those things up to this point anyway. Blazed past them, maybe, but always with an understanding of what they mean while they waved at the mile marker blurring past them.

Evan squeezes at Tommy's knee. "I'm not going anywhere," he assures, and Tommy snorts.

"You're literally going to Jersey in, like, five and a half hours."

Evan huffs. "With you. I'm - you're ruining my moment, Tommy," he pouts, and if the both of them dissolve into a fit of giggles, no one has to know but them.

-----

Tommy hasn't been back here in eight years. It's been longer since he's talked to his family - he'd shown up fifteen minutes into his grandmother's funeral, slipped in to a pew at the back during mass and and skipped the wake before he found a bar and made a few bad decisions with a man who'd sat next to him four drinks in and smiled at him like the sun peeking through a billowing stormcap.

Evan presses a tentative hand to the small of Tommy's back and Tommy melts into it, pleased when the hand shifts to curl around his waist. He's apparently already rented a car, and Tommy can't quite hide the heavy sigh of gratitude at the admission - the getaway will be a lot smoother if they don't have to stand outside waiting for a ride.

He's seen Clipboard Buck in action before. The last time, he'd barely managed to get them somewhere private before he was on his knees to express his appreciation of Clipboard Buck. This is - not better, but different in a good way. It makes him feel tethered, reminds him that as crazy as it had been to accept an invitation to a wedding after a spectacular explosion of a first date, he'd been right to follow that spark he'd first felt on the tarmac while Evan Buckley shook his hand for about thirty seconds too long.

"I can help whoever's next," says a voice as Evan shuffles him along the rental line, and Tommy's gaze darts up, his posture sharpening.

Evelyn.

Christ, it's a day for reunions, Tommy guesses. They're next, actually, and Evan tilts his chin with narrowed eyes when Tommy sighs and moves to the counter.

For a second, Tommy's convinced she doesn't recognize him. She pops the gum in her mouth, bored gaze bouncing between them as Evan scrolls through his email for the confirmation number on his booking, and then her eyes go wide.

"Tom? Tom Kinard?"

Evan's eyes shift up. It's a lot more subtle than Tommy'd expected. So is the hand that squeezes at Tommy's hip in question.

Tommy curls his fingers around the hand, squeezes back. He's spent too many years on the other side of the closet door to go crawling back into the dark now.

"Hi Evie."

Tommy hasn't told this story, but he doubts Evan will be particularly surprised by it. He's heard about plenty of Tommy's other beards.

Her gaze shifts. From her spot behind the counter he doubts she's seeing much, but the anchor of Evan's arm around his waist has them sharing space, Tommy's shoulder pressed to Evan's chest, the two of them breathing the same air. Her brow ticks up behind her glasses. She's got a streak of grey along her temple, and the start of crows feet around her eyes.

Evelyn snaps her gum. "You missed the reunion," she notes, and then smiles. "Although I can't blame you if this is what you've got back at home. A large improvement on Jason Ledecky." She leans in. "He's got five kids and a truly tragic bald spot."

Evan's eyes gleam. Tommy realizes he's actually looking forward to telling this story, in the sanctuary of a rented car on the way to his uncles. Evelyn Carinni had been a godsend for a Tommy who'd shot up four inches and slimmed down over the summer after junior year -- she'd scooped him right up that first day of school when it became clear that a suddenly sharp jawline was all it took to garner the attention of the female population of Cliffside Park High, and the first time she'd whipped out her tits and seen the disinterested look on his face she'd made it her mission to make sure he made it through senior year undetected.

"You here about the will?"

Tommy pauses. "What will?"

Her eyeroll is exactly as disparaging as he remembers. "Christ, your family is a piece of work. According to Tina, who heard it from Daryl, Old Man Gio apparently had an updated will your dad tried to hide. There's been a whole lawsuit about getting it recognized."

"What the hell does that have to do with me?"

"Well, I imagine dear old granddad had a nice little end-of-life realization that the only descendant he had who didn't want any of his money was you, so as a last fuck you to all his ungrateful kids he left it all to you."

"There's no way any of that money hasn't been spent already." Not to mention he has no interest in some long drawn out court case where all his extended family has to admit they have no way to pay it back.

Evelyn hums. "A lot of it's been tied up for years. Plus there's the royalties his estate is still getting."

Tommy sighs. "My uncle made it seem like it was more serious than that."

"Is there anything more serious to them than who gets the lions share of daddy's money?" At Tommy's raised brow, she shakes her head. "Anyway, your pop might be looking at jail time, so there's always a possibility they're looking for preemptive bail money."

If he lets them, he'll tie up Evelyn for hours, standing here gossiping like teenagers. "We should have a reservation," Tommy tells her, before things get really off the rails, and they go through the motions of pulling up Evan's information. Evelyn pops her gum again.

"What a shame," she says, brow raised and eyes focused on Evan. "We promised you we had plenty of inventory in basic economy but it looks like those are all off the lot." Tommy watches Evan frown, eyes darting to the prices detailed behind her. Neither one of them is overly concerned about their savings account, at the moment, but Evan isn't fond of surprise price increases. He'd complained for a week the last time avocados had gone up thirty cents. "Looks like I'll just have to upgrade you free of charge, Mr. Buckley."

The clerk to her left shoots her an exasperated look and leaves it at that, but something happens in Evan's expression, the realization rolling over him that he's been included in some subterfuge. "Oh, well, if you have to," he says, but he's leaning his free arm against the counter now, posture open, happy to be included in this little bubble with someone who has loved and cared for Tommy. He knows the feeling -- knows how he'd had to take a deep breath at Chimney's bachelor party, when Eddie had glanced between them and implied that Evan inviting him to the karaoke bar was a date, remembers the way he'd had to dig his fingers into his thigh in the pocket of his pants to keep from being weird about how nice it was to laugh with Maddie Buckley-Han.

Evelyn chuckles, and smacks her gum, and the keys under her fingers clack away for a moment before she spins in her chair and marches off to grab something from the printer, and Evan hip checks Tommy with just enough force that Tommy sways, maybe a little overcome in the same way Tommy always is when Evan's friends, his family make it clear they like having Tommy around. He grins, and Tommy returns it, the edges of his smile bleeding into his cheeks.

Evelyn returns with contract for a sports car. "I waived the deposit fee," she intones. "For the inconvenience, sir."

Evan looks delighted as he signs off and Evelyn splits their copies. The sticky note affixed to Evan's copy has a phone number with a Jersey area code written on it, and she taps it.

"When you find out you're insanely rich and finally cut off the rest of your family completely, you two should take me out for coffee."

Evan isn't so caught up that he doesn't check in with Tommy first. It's not entirely necessary --he likes Evelyn, and Evan can clearly tell that -- but it's nice, all the same.

"How about a steak dinner," Tommy negotiates, and Evelyn's grin goes wide.

-----

As it turns out, Grandpa Gio was a petty little bastard with a penchant for dramatics, and according to a court of law his aunts and uncles (and father) owe him close to two million dollars, between them.

"I don't want it," Tommy confesses, laid out on the hotel bed that night, still too loose-limbed to move as Evan putters around in the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and brushing his teeth.

Evan looms over him a moment later, warm towel running over the ridges of Tommy's stomach, the rise of his pectorals. Christ, he'd shot off like a goddamn missile. Evan bites his lip to hide a grin when the towel catches on the underside of Tommy's chin.

"I'm assuming you're talking about the money," Evan says, folding the towel over itself to give him one last rubdown. "It seemed like you liked the sex."

Tommy shifts, tugging at Evan's wrist until he settles in beside Tommy. With the remains of his energy, he slings a leg over Evan's and rolls himself into the cradle of Evan's embrace. "That was never a question."

Evan maintains the silence for a grand total of thirty-seven seconds. It's longer than Tommy had expected. "So your family." Tommy hums, already tracing the edges of the tattoo on Evan's forearm. "Kind of dicks."

The snort of laughter settles into Evan's still-sweaty temples, and Tommy shifts to press his nose into the damp curls there. He'd been so hesitant to share this part of himself with Evan, but as always, Evan had forged on ahead like there was nothing in the world he'd rather do than provide the landing spot for Tommy to settle down his gear once the storm passed.

"Took me twenty years and a boatload of therapy to train that out of me. I'm still --." Tommy pauses, the usual self-deprecating comment stuck on the tip of his tongue, because for once, it doesn't feel like an effort to be nothing like them. He'd spent so long hiding in the shadow of the asshole his family had taught him how to be, and dragging himself out into the sunlight always felt like a struggle.

But it hadn't felt like an effort, really -- to hold Evan's hand under the judgemental gaze of ten cousins and four aunts and uncles, to stand tall and stick to the barest edges of polite while the room erupted into chaos the moment his father opened his mouth to defend himself, to excuse himself and tuck his arm over Evan's shoulder on the way out the door.

He can still remember the dazed way Evan had responded to that first kiss, while Tommy busied himself tugging the hem of his shirt back down, too nervous to look at him while he asked him out. The way he'd looked, when Tommy'd been brave enough to glance up, eyes a little glazed, mouth still open, and told him he was free.

At the time, Tommy'd been furiously convincing himself not to lean in for another kiss, fully aware he'd make himself late to work if he allowed himself another taste, but the memory had lingered the rest of the shift. In the days after, once he'd had a clearer picture of exactly how wide he'd just blown open Evan's world, he'd thought of it often.

I am free.

Tommy turns his face to meet Evan's gaze, nose dragging across his cheek, lips aching to find a home against Evan's again, but he catches his eyes first, slides a hand up over Evan's arm, shoulder, neck, until he can curl his fingers over his jaw, thumb tucking in to the little dimple as Evan grins at him. "Thank you for coming."

Evan sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, tongue darting out to wet the top one, a mischievous gleam in his eye, but he lets the dumb joke go, gaze shifting into something more serious as he drums his fingers along Tommy's bare hip. "Thanks for letting me," Evan murmurs back, and Tommy knows they need to talk about that sentiment in more detail, but for now he'd rather roll Evan on top of him and slide his tongue past the seam of Evan's lips.

Evan doesn't seem to have any complaints.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.3

Okay can anyone explain the “false hotel registration” thing to me? Does it mean they registered under a false name? So Paul registered under a false name so he could go fuck a girl in his room without getting in trouble with the press? I'm confused. Didn't they bring girls to their rooms all the time without getting in trouble? It doesn't make sense. Why did he feel the need to register under a different name?

Paul, talking about American conservatism, “So many organizations over here that are nuts anyway.” John, “Yeah, they're so far right they just–” tape ends. They really were brave, though. To say what they thought and risk losing what they'd only just got. I wonder who cut the recording. 

Journalist: Paul, are you planning to marry Jane Asher? John: scream ‘no.’ Go on. Lol John certainly says what he feels doesn't he?

Paul making fun of the racist question. Good job bud. 

The whole “Yesterday” thing is crazy. Like, what a feat, first of all. I think we forget how unbelievably successful the song was.

Second of all, I know John's reaction was childish and mean, but his feelings were valid if you just look at the treatment and reception of “Ticket to Ride”  (John's dead mum song). Like objectively yesterday is a better song, but still.

Oh, John. Poor thing. 

If “Girl” is secretly about Paul . . . yeesh. It's so obsessive and adoring and simultaneously so disappointed and disparaging. John always has such impossible standards for Paul. “She promises the earth to me and I believe her, after all this time I don't know why.” Um… maybe because he literally did give you the world? At so many points I find myself asking, “what more could Paul possibly have given John?”

People always take this quote as a sexuality thing, but couldn't it also be a conscience thing? Revulsion at taking advantage of the fact that all these women are fans? At the scale of his infidelity? I don't know, am I giving him too much credit?

The thing about Paul, John – and though it drives you insane, it's a big factor in why you love him -- is he's not going to be bullied into anything. If he decides to take LSD it's going to be on his own terms. And I know you think it'll bring you two closer, and you're right, but peer pressure just doesn't work on him. There's no point. You know that.

I LOVE Paul and the Indica. Designing the wrapping paper in secret up in his little attic room, covering over the shop windows so he can do his handyman work building shelves and painting in peace. It's Linda's Paul pre Linda, you know?

John is so good at PR as in making something sound as beautiful and important and powerful as possible. Which is something Paul absolutely relied on John to do and clearly could not do on his own after the break up. Look how John makes them almost into prophets here.

"I really wanted to live in London but I wouldn't risk it." Another thing to make John envious of Paul and resentful of Cynthia. I really wish those two had just never got married. 

“I don't object to people having a lot of money, I never did. But I do object to people being stony broke and starving.” RIP John, you would've loved the American “left” of today. But you can't have the former without the latter, sorry.

This picture always gets me. It's ridiculous. Pattie and George. Mo and Ringo. John and Paul. With Cynthia awkwardly by herself. It's funny. It's adorable. It's crushing. And with that quote? It's impossible.

I think Tara Browne is overlooked. Paul brought him home for Christmas. That's a big deal. And John hated him enough to laugh when he read about his death. That's also a big deal. Paul and his messed up social climbing obsession. I do think it's worth pointing out, though, the difference between Paul’s LSD trip with Tara and his trip with John. More on that later.

I really do think they were all staunchly anti-racist for their time, you know, besides John's racist jokes and drawings… but Paul particularly. And I have to wonder where that came from. Did he have empathy for people being judged on appearance and background? Was it partially due to his idolization of black artists? Did Little Richard maybe say something to him about racism in America? Anyone have any thoughts?

Actually, same, John. 

Okay and I have to share my hot take on the whole Jesus scandal. It's this: the American right doesn't actually care about Jesus. They care about protecting their hegemony. They didn't like that the Beatles were openly and stubbornly integrationist. They didn't like Paul's comment about their inhumane racism. But they couldn't openly counter that without showing their hand. So they used the Jesus comment as an excuse. If they play the religious persecution card, they get to paint themselves as the victims and therefore the good guys while they take down anyone who challenges the status quo that keeps them in money and power (aka the Beatles). 

Maybe I should've had a “poor baby” tally because the number of times I've said that about John in these comments has got to be tally-worthy. I would've driven around in a gorilla suit with you, honey!

It is actually amazing that there hasn't been more speculation on Paul's sexuality with all these serious boyfriends. 

Paul tells a story about a time he flew a plane, and how much better he liked it than being a passenger. First off. Imagine being a pilot and just being like “oh, you've never touched a joystick in your life, but you're Paul McCartney? Sure, go ahead. Fly the plane.” But also. His control issues and his confidence are both off unreal. No one in their right mind would feel more safe flying a plane – as someone with a complete lack of experience – than when a licensed pilot is flying it. 

Okay I literally JUST learned that Here There and Everywhere says, “how good it can be” not could. Can. And it's one of those in my "for sure this was about John" folder. Okay then. Wow.

The thing is they really did compliment each other's songs a lot more than modern Paul makes it seem like. So I wonder what it was about the “Here There and Everywhere” compliment that made it so special to Paul?

This footage where John is hiding behind McCharmley. I love protective Paul and how different he is to protective John and how much they needed each other. 

Hall of Fame quote: “what composer do you respect the most?” “I dunno really. John Lennon.” “Paul McCartney.”

[proboblynotstriaght]

I put far too much effort into my shitposting and screenshot taking...

Oh well! you all seem to enjoy them! And I like having all my best screenshots in a place that doesn't take up a crazy amount of space in my computer!!

As usual past the cut there are spoilers for episode 40 but I try to keep it away from any major spoilers

(also psst, @raeemar this is for you! your reblog made my day!)

Let's get into Episode 40!!!! Rich : The bean footage is a DM thing I can't say it! ||| Mike : eeeeeehhhh we can change it?

Bro bonding moment, bullying lornings edition

Twig : *explaining fae deals and how to make better deals* |||| Gricko : *not paying attention*

Nikkie : *doing a fantastic Torbek impression!* ||| A++ Nikkie Torbeks voice is hard

"Twig we haven't run a successful business in all the 8 years-" "Woah now!" uh oh! the couple is Fiiiighting

"Think of the margins we'll have on the Displacer Beast piss"

Frost : So are we going to kill these fucker or what?

"I guess that makes sense... fucking nerd"

"I knew a guy who would make and sell this kinda stuff, 5 people died it was a whole thing in the news and everything" "Well how many people did he sell it to" "Like... 5"

"Well, I'm just going to say... shit that was funny"

"How long did it take those goblins to die?" "the last one lingered... for a good three months"

Twigsy, blacked out from all the alcohol, and flailing around as Gideon picks her up

His face haunts my dreams...

Derek : *a punny name for the drink* || Gricko : that's not very good

Frost and Kremy are drunk, Gricko and Gideon are trying to be the smart ones for once

"Frost you realize that you've been writing with a chicken leg, and what you thought was parchment, is now clearly human skin" "Well, I've completed page one of my cookbook, the Necro-Nom-Nom-Nom"

"He is continuing to do whatever Torbek does" "Pump his fists" "NO HE DOES NOT"

Grickos imitation of Gideon, I just need you to know that Mace is laughing so hard that it's not actually audible.

This man is laughing so hard he is completely silent and shaking, I'm genuinely concerned for this mans health

Derek : It doesn't even give Gricko a little wink? Like John Void at the end of Anaconda?

I love when Derek makes a joke because they are funny, but also he's almost laughing himself as he's telling the joke

Richie : I'm sorry I thought he was saying something else

guys it took me like four trays to get the screenshot of his face, IT'S SO FUNNY

MIke in Gricko's voise : Gimmie that Bussay

"The Stream Kill-inator" "beep beep beep"

Husband moments be like. FRosty really likes to irritate Kremy about his hat huh

SHUT THE STREAM DOWN

"BEEP BEEP BEEP"

I don't understand most of the references they make but I like how hard they all laugh at them

Derek telling a ridiculous story of how he had too watch the same movie twice in one day and he hated the movie both times

Nikkie : *Horrifying description of Torbek eating one of the Lornlings* Just kidding that doesn't happen!

Singing : It's Torbek It's Torbek, Everybody hates Torbek

Part 2 of this post is one the way! These posts keep getting longer and longer

Edit : Part 2 is here!!!

https://www.tumblr.com/proboblynotstriaght/760423614759714816/part-2-of-my-episode-40-screenshots-despite-andy?source=share

[leadandblood]

Part 2 of my Crozcest rewatch

My ep 1 rewatch and analysis are here. Ep 2 didn't have any material for me to work with, so i skipped straight to ep 3.

This entire post is dedicated solely to the breakfast scene in ep 3. Had to cut it up, bc it got really long. I'll probably make another post for the rest of the episode, but this is it for now. I have so many thoughts...

Below are my interpretations of canon scenes along with screencaps from the show. All the things below are speculation. No, these characters are not related whatsoever in the show. I made this AU up bc it's fun. Don't go into the soup store if you hate soup. Don't read this post if you hate blorbo incest.

The 'argument'

Uh-oh! A racist moment at the start there. Keep that in check, boy, or you'll get spanked.

Anyway, he looks at Francis so intensely it's like he's trying to assimilate with him.

This might be the vague start of Francis disliking Edward on screen. The ships are ice locked. Francis is sour and started to drink more. (sir John looking at his glass in ep 2). Two of the plentiful reasons why Francis is a bit stand-off-ish and mean in this scene as well as later ones.

this face is giving: ''pleEAAASE, daddy, look at me. at least once, pleeeaase, daddy, im here, look at me, please, im right here, please, daddy, look at me-''

Sidenote but it's insane that Blanky is the only person in that room actually listening to him. Hodgson is playing elevator music in his head, Irving is in disociation station and Francis is Francis.

I'm sorry Edward. It won't get any better.

This is such an eldest daughter moment oh my GOD. "...Really?" I love Blanky watching them from the background, too, sdlmskdkj.

As funny as it is, though, I think it's actually a bit deeper, because! In his question, Edward already assumed Francis had wronged the Netsilik before. And Francis is pissed off about that. His own son assuming he'd do something like that and then just basing a question off it without so much as a second thought. So he shoots right back with the "were we to put her down the fire hole as well?" making Edward seem like the bad guy instead. Eye for eye, if you will.

Though it isn't said very seriously, it's still a jab in Edward's direction. And because Francis isn't yet the grouchy motherfucker he becomes later, he softens up and actually says something more valuable afterwards. (it's still not good, but it's better) I think Francis is very eye for eye and emotions-driven in his parenting. As in emotions control him, not he his emotions. Lots of outbursts and things said in the heat of the moment.

Anyway.

Live Blanky reaction

Blanky knows about them being related - the only one on the expedition who does.

Makes sense, bc Francis had been friends with him for a long time. It would only be natural for Francis to share that he has sons. So Blanky would have probably seen the Crozier boys growing up. Finally, I can give him the fun uncle storyline he deserves!!!

He looks so amused here... I think he likes seeing how Edward grew up and learned to talk back, especially since he'd always been such a quiet kid.

Anyway. Francis definitely intended to say something really bitter or mildly threatening in here, but then *gasp*

Tommy!!!

Coming in with the: "breakfast is ready (ominous)"

I joked about them having sex before the breakfast, but I legitimately think something happened there. If not sex, then a very handsy makeout session with a lot of name-calling. (He made Edward cry)

Their face journeys are killing me - for seperate reasons, but both are just as much fun to dissect.

Ned first.

"I can do this i can look at him" ..... "oh fuck no i can't" and then he's remembering how it felt having Tom's knee between his thighs and being called a waste of uniform while Tom kisses his neck sloppy style. He looks like he's about to pass out or throw up. He definitely ugly-cried and is embarassed about it.

Now Thomas.

He looks so fucking proud of himself😭 "i made that guy kneel for me half an hour ago😌 could've made him bark if I wanted to" Then he has this sudden realisation of "oh shit dad's talking to me" so he finally focuses on Francis.

Who then tells him that he's leaving for Erebus, so all that food was made in vain. He doesn't mind ofc but like🙄 could've at least eaten breakfast... (please eet, captin! sorry i had to)

Edward's sad little face after everybody starts getting up. He looks sick fr. Tom, what have you done-

+ Bonus of him looking at Francis from below bc I'm all about that💅

At the end there's that scene with Blanky. "the girl's people are far too busy staying alive to wage a war" which is such a Blanky thing to say in a situation like that.

I also like the "you've always been a shite parent, Francis. Here's how you're actually supposed to talk to your kids" expression. (he means it, but it's also lighthearted, as are many things Blanky says)

I think Blanky would be a much better parent to them and they certainly wouldn't turn out the way they did, but we're not here for that, are we? :DD He can still be an awesome uncle figure.

Conclusion

This scene alone burned down my house, sold my soul to the devil and poured 3 tons of salt over my property. There is no going back for me, it's over. I'm in too deep.

We get a glimpse of what Tom and Ned have going on as well as the cracks in Francis's behaviour.

It's really fun how this scene inserts Blanky into the equasion, too. I have vaguely thought about him in the AU but not too much. Now I'm having more thoughts which I'll either put into the AU or make a different post for. For now, he's just the fun uncle :DDD He definitely doesn't know anything about the sex, though. He'd be strongly against it if he did.

*unlocks your handcuffs and unties you from the chair* okay, go be free now, byee (🌸^w^)/¨

[positivelybeastly]

X-Men #5

Late, but who cares? Let's go.

So, I've made no secret that I thought Kwannon wasn't really being given enough to do, these last few issues of X-Men, and it's for the same reason I'm happy to see Greycrow here - Zeb Wells' Hellions was amazing. It was one of the few Krakoa era titles that actually bothered to examine the moral double standards of the era, that really took advantage of its unique status quo, that looked at mutant resurrection and thought, okay, how can we mine this, not for obscure background cameos that will make a person on Twitter happy, but for actual drama? It was a truly great series, and I was hoping it would be followed up, if only in small ways.

I do like that Kwannon and John have a cabin together. With how they left off, it felt very personal and intimate between them, like they truly didn't need anything else to be content with one another, and neither of them struck me as people who need action to be fulfilled - or, rather, they don't see action as a means for enjoyment. As Kwannon says here, it merely gives them purpose. So far, so good.

Wasn't expecting an Amelia Voght callback, of all characters. Then again, this is a Jed MacKay joint.

Psychics and death, name a more iconic X-Men duo.

It is interesting that we get kinda sort of confirmation that Quentin remembers being a head, since I would've figured that the Cerebro cradles were down and he'd have lost those memories, but I suppose it's also possible he could have just heard about it second-hand and been like, wow, I got turned into a head in a box? Weird.

Yeah, no, you don't get to call Scott Slim, Quentin. Only Hank, Bobby or Warren get to do that. And Jean, if she's feeling quirky.

Can I also say something? I actually dig Quentin's fit? I don't know if that says something about my fashion sense or what, but I actually like this look for him more than . . . pretty much any other look he's had. Granted, that's not saying much, given his other uniforms were black blazer with t-shirt, the 60s retro-futuristic mutant fascist attire, or the bland melange that was his X-Force uniform, but I do actually like it. Purple and checker pattern work.

So, this whole issue is an homage to New X-Men #121, which was part of Marvel's Nuff Said initiative, and it, along with all the other issues published that month, had pretty much no dialogue in it, it was all told purely through art. It's not a direct homage, of course, since dialogue is happening, but I appreciate the lampshade being hung on it here, with Quentin both pointing out that this isn't like the other homage, and then not-so-subtly pointing out why it isn't like them.

Because Quentin can't shut the fuck up.

Honestly, that's a fun spin on it. That's how you iterate on something you've seen before.

I'm a sucker for mental landscapes. Always have been, always will. I just like getting to grapple with a character's psyche in a tangible way, it's why I like series like Silent Hill or Star Trek's many telepathic episodes. And if I had to break down why I like them?

Well.

Pretty much.

You really could've just called this New X-Men volume 3, Jed, and I don't think anyone would've objected. That being said - I couldn't have given less of a shit what happened in Marauders volume 2, so seeing that Cassandra Nova is back and wasn't consigned to the dustbin because of that series is a win in my book. She's a top tier villain, tbh, one of the best new X-villains of the last 20 years, and her particular incisive methodology for breaking down heroes' psyches feels like it's perfectly suited for the team of this book.

As she demonstrates.

Ahhhh, good foreshadowing earlier, good stuff. And I have to say, Stegman's Sabretooth is fucking top tier. Excellent rendition of the big man himself (whom I already miss, even if he does have a miniseries coming up very soon).

This is a great sequence, tbh. Like, poor Quentin - this is actually the most anyone has made me feel for Quentin since Aaron, about ten years ago - but in terms of threat and character exposition, it's very good, with some excellent art and very Nova-esque deconstruction. I also particularly like this panel composition.

His head is in a smaller panel. His head is literally in a box.

Good stuff, tbh. Again, this is the most useful Quentin feels like he's been in a while, because if he did anything of real worth in X-Force other than die, I'll freely admit that I do not remember it.

Hank, Scott, do you . . . wanna get them some paper towels, or . . ?

Overall, not a bad issue - definitely not as memorable as the original psychic rescue, though.

Now, originally, I was gonna say, you can't hold that against it, it's not easy to match Morrison, that's just common sense, but then again, most writers don't directly invite the comparison, so, I really hope Jed is cooking up something long term and satisfying, because constantly referencing Morrison is all fine and dandy, but it needs to go somewhere.

Still, I'd say the title has been squarely good thus far, and it still has room to get better and better, so I'm gonna give it time to breathe.

Also?

Our expert panel of judges have concluded that Hank McCoy once again wins the title of Original X-Man with the Dumpiest of Dump Truck Asses. Thanks for trying, Scott, but, uh. Your nickname is Slim for a reason.

Conner, you and I are gonna fight.

Damn right. It's not Hank's fault comics readers don't read anything from before 2010 . . .

[tossball-stick]

i dont have a name for this au beyond "the gang survives au." im really bad with names. sorry

this is mostly gonna be a first draft ramble, specifically about kieran. most of this is subject to change at any time.

second disclaimer: this is also a really self indulgent au haha. im mostly listening to my pussy while writing this whole au. im doing stuff that appeals solely to me. it might not make the most sense to you, but there is an easy explanation for every decision i make, writing wise. just ask and i can explain things!!

hiiii im here to ramble about kierans role in my the gang survives au!! i will explain the premise and also get to rambling below the cut. have fun :)

this post covers only her happier, sweeter ending, as i realized while writing that this alone is so fucking much to read haha. part 2 will be linked here once its out.

tagging my kieran enjoyer army: @verdemoun @bakedcrossaintt (? lmk if thats the right tag) (ask to be tagged!!)

Some of these explainations are simple. Sometimes, it's as simple as making the bullet graze the area rather than pierce. Sometimes, I've been thinking for so long and have still been stuck. Sometimes I just change the way the dynamics work out.

Hiii okay so! Basically, the idea with this AU is that the entire gang does live, but the VDL gang crumbles all the same regardless. Yes. Everyone lives. I have been brainstorming for weeks to try and figure out ways the dead members can still go through the events of canon while living.

This, of course, means the final standoff is a lot more tense, and has a lot more peoples emotions involved, and this also means everyone lives until the events of RDR1!

This is not a good thing.

Many of the gang members find themselves stuck in the cycle of poverty, abuse, and violence still, by 1911. Not everyone is as fortunate as John, Abigail, and Jack Marston, or the Reverend, or Tilly. Not everyone wants the same redemption as John, either.

Due to this, John must hunt down all of his family. All of it. At least, those the law and public recognize as members of the gang.

Perhaps the cracks of the gang being destabilized started when John first left. Perhaps he can also push the gang back together for one last hoorah.

Obviously, Kieran still lets Jack out of her sight, he still gets kidnapped, they still bring him back for his party, and she still gets drunk, and nobody notices her initially wander off. This all remains the same.

As for Kieran herself, and her death, I've actually thrown together a couple ways I'd be happy with her story concluding. Unfortunately, I cannot decide which I like better! So, I decided to pull a Dutch, and make Arthur (the player) be able to decide her fate. As with most things in the game, the choices will give Arthur an honor loss, or boost! They both have the same setup, however.

Where I start changing the story, however, is that people do eventually notice her disappearance. Due to her slowly being welcomed into the gang, and very clearly forming some actual bonds and relationships, people do start to search her out. Bill, Mary-Beth, and Sean all begin to worry about her location some time into the party.

It begins by Bill being shamed or outcast in some way. He goes to bug Kieran about it, though struggles to find her anywhere nearby. He awkwardly shuffles to Mary-Beth, knowing the slight romance thats bloomed between her and Kieran, asking if she's seen the guy around. The concern begins to mount when she says, "I thought he was with you," and her brows begin to worry.

This is where Sean butts in. He's been recovering from a head wound, don't worry about it, so his role during the party has mostly been that of an observing drinker. He points out that he saw Kieran drunkenly wander towards the woods, though she disappeared from his sight behind the manor. "I just figured he went to piss! Honest! He has been gone... a long time, though."

By this point, Bill has had enough. He marches up to Dutch and explains the situation, how Kieran is gone in the woods and he knows there are O'Driscolls in those woods, Kieran has been acting paranoid about getting captured by her old gang nearly this whole time, and things are going more and more downhill for the gang. Bill is loud. He always pulls attention to himself.

Dutch responds by dismissing the worries— Kieran is strong, she can handle herself. She went and saved Arthur's life, after all. Sean said she only went to take a leak, right? Why are you, Bill, trying to ruin Jack's party? How could you be so heartless as to make everything about you? A young boy has been saved, you should be celebrating.

I am certain Kieran's loyalty would mean nothing to Dutch by now. He's simply too blinded by the blood fued between his and Colm's gang. Dutch van der Linde is, also, not an idiot. As much as I call him stupid, I doubt he even believes Kieran's insistence that she didn't run with Colm long, or didn't care for him. Dutch knows Colm. He knows the grip Colm has over his flock, the same Dutch has over his own. He believes that, one way or another, Kieran would remain an O'Driscoll, unless he gets to kill Colm himself.

Bill struggles to articulate himself— Why he's worried, why he thinks that they need to be heading out there now, that he's got this awful feeling in his gut, and some people are starting to get worried. Dutch shushes this all, spinning the dialogue in circles and attempting to get Bill to dismiss his own worries as well. If she hasn't come back by now, and there are O'Driscolls in the woods, she probably ran off with them. Use your head, Williamson.

Dutch let Kieran in initially because of his whole "feed people as need feeding" speech to her. He can't go back on that word at first, when people would bring it up. By Jack's party, I doubt anyone even really remembers it but Kieran. There is no reason to keep her around, to keep up those optics, in Dutch's eyes. She has barely been pulling in money and all she does is tend to the horses and take up more resources, no matter how little. Not many people in the gang like her even if they are warming up to her.

Bill, understandably, gets frustrated with this. Gives up, says he ain't even enjoying the party anyway. He's gonna go look for Kieran. Sean and Mary-Beth cannot follow him. Dutch invites Bill to, "be his guest."

This is where player choice is involved. This entire interaction is missable, if you want to miss it. Regardless of Arthur's involvement, Bill will go to the woods to look for Kieran.

Let's start with Arthur being there, and seeing all of this go down.

Bill will then turn to Arthur, a desperate and pleading expression on his face. "Morgan, he saved your life," Bill begs. "You at least owe it to look for him, right?"

And let's have Arthur say yes. Yes, fine, he will help Bill go look for that damned Kieran, O'Driscoll or not. With a decent sized honor boost, they mount up and head out.

Bill eventually finds a trail of footsteps in the mud, following it along with Arthur. Arthur will express his doubts to Bill, but Bill will simply brush them off or ignore them. The footsteps eventually fade into hoofsteps. This is all until there is an abruptly cut off scream from the distance, and Arthur and Bill are racing off.

By the time Kieran is found, she's tied and blindfolded on the back of an O'Driscoll's horse, much the same as you find her atop the back of Arthur's to start. She has already been roughed up, and is only letting out broken sobs by this point.

There are two O'Driscolls, and once Bill calls out to Kieran, it all culminates in a chase through the woods. Hope Arthur brought a horse that handles turns well!

Kieran's struggle quickly grows with the announcement of her saviors, though she is quickly beaten over the head for causing more of a commotion. She is not left unconscious, though she does grow silent besides sobs once more.

Eventually, the chase will burst through into somewhere more open, allowing an easy and clear shot on both O'Driscolls that Arthur and Bill both take. Bill misses, and Arthur must do a little deadeye QTE to keep the O'Driscoll from pulling his revolver and shooting Kieran in the head.

The gunshot startles the horse and Kieran falls. Bill is scrambling to help untie her and get her on her feet. Between broken cries, she's desperately thanking Bill and Arthur, trying to pull herself together from hysteric sobs. She can't stop talking about how terrified she was of what Colm would do to her, only making it all the more clear that her and Colm have more between them than she wants to admit. That they would likely tie her up, starve her, do all the most awful torture methods to her, she's seen how Colm treats men that aren't his kin anymore, and she's heard the way he spoke about Dutch and his gang. This is all too familiar to Arthur.

The ride back is condensed to a cutscene of Bill proudly riding back with Kieran on Brown Jack with him, Arthur following along. Kieran is welcomed back and tended to, Mary-Beth and Karen taking her. She escaped with only some minor head trauma, a couple cigarette burns on her neck, some awful ropeburn, and some body-wide bruises.

From here on out, she is clinging to Mary-Beth, indulging her desire to settle somewhere some day. The violence and constant kidnappings have begun to wear on her, not to mention Bill telling her Dutch's aversion to go look for her, and the lack of concern from half of the camp still, bundled with the growing guilt of letting Jack escape her sight originally... She decides she just wants anything but this.

When Guarma happens, she stays behind. Despite how Dutch seems insistent to have all hands on deck, she refuses to go, demanding why she should do anything for a gang that likes to pretend it's a family, but is the same as all the others she's been in. Dutch's gaze simple hardens into a glare and he says that they will talk about this once he is back. If Kieran does not wish to go, fine.

While the rest of the working men are gone, she is confiding in Mary-Beth more and more. They continued to get pushed closer from the stress of everything, from the constant worry, from having to pull up their bootstraps. She's quite the hand around the camp when Dutch isnt around, and she continues to prove herself to those who ever doubted her. She also grows closer to Sean, who Lenny urged to stay behind as well, to continue recovering.

By the time the boys are back in town, Kieran is well respected, and has pulled herself together to take care of the people Dutch had left behind. She stands up to him, despite being sympathetic to the struggles they all went through.

She does not involve herself in Colm's death, I don't think. I want to believe her and Sadie fight about it even— Sadie demanding to know what reason she has to not want Colm dead.

Of course Kieran feels bitter about her treatment from Colm. Of course Kieran despises the awful things he has done. Kieran also recognizes that she will never climb out of the cycle of violence she's found herself in, should she continue it. She has no druve to keep the violence going. Even survival seems like a pathetic excuse for it, to her.

This only solidifies her backstabbing nature to those who don't trust her.

By the time the caravan of deserters leaves, she's right there with them, clinging to Mary-Beth still.

Kieran thanks Arthur for everything he's done for her. Even if her life hasn't been perfect with them, and has been a lot more good than bad, she's grateful to him for breaking her from being trapped in the tide. She understands why he stays, and does not make an effort to convince him to leave. She knows the kind of hold Dutch has on him, still.

By the epilogue, she's near impossible to find. Though, there's word that Mary-Beth's got an assistant, who seems a little too old for her position. The assistant never says a word to anyone, though she certainly seems a little too familiar.

And that's her happy ending :)

[orphicrose]

My sweet sweet boy Sean did nothing wrong, ever, we neeeeed more of him in the fanfic world, yo could you please write Sean x reader who's rich. We know this man hates the rich, but what if the gang meets someone who's really fucking rich who also helps people. They get wind of some rich person in a town not too far away, and obviously they think it's some old mean man, who exploits other, but that's far far far from the thruth. Like people in the town are actually praising the reader for the work they have done, the way the town improved, less criminals etc. And when the gang goes to meet the reader they find out that they never wanted to have this much money and the try to get rid of it in a way that helps others because it would be a waste if some criminals just stole it, but somehow whenever they find a good cause they can spend their money on and just put out as much money as possible, it ends up making them more profit, and the reader just wants a simple live and go on some adventure etc. , yk?

I know this is a strange idea I was just thinking. And Sean kinda falling for the reader because of their kind heart, i just love loverboy Sean wo much

Kiss the girl (Sean X FemReader)

A/N : I love love love this idea so much! I did my best to give this idea justice as it gave me so much inspiration so thank you. Sorry if the ending seems rushed. I am accepting constructive crisicism <3

Summary : Y/n was lucky enough to have been born into a wealthy family, but that money was tainted by her ancestors sins. To make up for it, she tries her best to give to the community. This attracted the attention of a opportunity hungry gang, pleasantly surprised when she turns out to be a pure soul willing to help.

Words : 3.8K

Warnings : Minor gore

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

Saint Denis was riddled with rich trash, and not so subtle exploitation of the working class. It was no surprise when Dutch's Posse received word of a possible job there. Many, in fact. But none caught their eyes so much as Y/n's did. Her last name was deceiving when her first name was unknown. The family name. Dutch assumes it was some rich family on the edge of the city. "Done some unholy things to achieve that amount of money, i assume" He chuckled to himself, twiddling his mustache as Hosea and Sean sit in, listening to his debriefing.

Y/n was wealthy, alright. But it was never the life she wanted. That money was tainted, blood money. Dutch was right. Her family had a red stained passed surrounding their riches, and y/n hated it. When her family were away on business trips she did her utmost best to spend it. Whether it was giving to a homeless man, a charity. Or donating to help build the new church. Anything positive to benefit the community around her just to rid herself of those coins. But to her dismay, it only grew her family name. She was respected. Loved. Y/n despised the positive charm she had given her name, given her family history. She felt trapped.

John had gotten the tip from a homeless man in Saint Denis, in return for a few pennies. He had drunkenly babbled to him about a higher power perched on the coast of the city. She had a beautiful aura surrounding her, helping those who needed it. "You're makin no sense old man" Johns patience was running thin, arms crossed as he looked at the helplessness sprawled at his feet.

"That woman has gods money. Y'all ever need help, you go see her. She has the grace of our lord and the beauty of his mistresses" The old man chuckled to himself, clutching at the almost empty bottle of whiskey.

John would have scoffed, calling him crazy. But this city was the city of opportunity, and wealth. So who was he to dismiss this claim. He had seen a lot crazier over his time. He had informed his mentor of this tip, who seemed as hesitant as the rest of the group. "We already have Bronte to deal with, we don't know anything about this family" Hosea offered a word of wisdom to the pondering mustache.

"Bronte is good for nothing player for our dear friends, the government. L/n might be a better angle for money" He stroked the hair on his chin. "We need a break from that bad mouthed Italian, anyway."

"You sure about this, Dutch?" Arthur was leaning on the opening of his tent, listening in to the small crowd discuss.

There was no questioning or persuading Dutch once his mind was made. They would start with a simple conversation with the woman, scouting out the place and seeing who she is as a person. Him, John, Sean and Hosea would go. To try charm her.

Her home was large, beautifully carved pillars at the entrance of the building inviting them in like a colosseum. "Stealing the house should be an option" Sean chortled to himself, hoisting the strap of his handle over his head and taking off his hat as they began to knock on the door.

"Do we even have a way about this?" He spoke again to the man in front of him. He was given a knowing look in return, one that said 'be quiet and trust me'.

The doors swung open, revealing the typical Butler on the other side, accompanied by a herd of guards to see what the unexpected intrusion was about. Dutch's hands flew up in surrender, followed by an unruly smirk plastered under the hair on his lip.

"What do we owe this... Pleasure" The butler looked down on the delinquents in front of him, expecting trouble not to far away.

"No need for the guns boys" Dutch chuckled "We are here for miss l/n. We hear of her good nature and are in need of her help with a certain matter"

"We don't just let anyone through these doors mister..."

"Cornwall" he tipped his hat "At your service"

The mans eyes widened, both with embarrassment and fear. "Leviticus Cornwall?"

"That's the one! Apologies for the state of me, we've been on the road for quite some time. I see how my looks can be deceiving"

Not long passed before they were in a lush dining room, each at a chair of their own with a hot beverage in their grasp. Guns still surrounding the room for safety, but not pointed at them at least. A well dressed woman soon appeared, catching all their attentions. Especially Sean's. He was no stranger to attractive woman, being the promiscuous rascal that he is. But she was a whole other word. What caught his attention was her short hair, and the fact she wore trousers. That wasn't very common for women of these times. Her refusal to be conventional was enchanting him to look more into her features. That homeless man was onto something. She was really carved from the heavens above, and he had pleased the gods enough to be in her presence in this moment.

John had noticed him staring, hitting him on the back of the head. "Focus, horny bastard." He mumbled to him. Hosea was first out of his seat to kiss the lady's hand, formally introducing the group as if they weren't a herd of criminals. Y/n waved her men away, and they hesitantly left with the door shutting behind them.

"I know who you are, Van der Linde. It's hard not to when your face is plastered on every corner of every street" Her tone sounded like it should have been serious, but the smile on her face showed an ounce of... happiness? Dutch couldn't even begin to backtrack before she spoke again. "No need to worry. I'm not going to turn you in. But why don't we start with what you want from me? Hm? Money i'd assume?"

Dutch took his hat into his hands and smiled as dearly as he could muster. "I suppose money is an easy way to put it" He began "If we are being honest with each other, miss l/n, we have been working hard these past few months to escape this retched country. We don't want your money, as such, but we do want your status to help us get away from the law for a while"

Hosea threw Dutch a confused scowl, John followed his lead. They were here for money, not protection. How dare he even suggest they were hopeless.

Y/n took a seat at the end of the wooden table, her face perfectly framed the the light shining through the large window on the side of the room. She sighed, bringing her hands to her temple.

"Listen... I honestly don't care what you want. You can have it all" Her voice was hushed. "I just want a break from all of this. If you can help me with that, you can have all the riches and men you need" Her eyes pleading, as she locked with Sean's.

"You want out of this life?" He had to stop a laugh as he admired her. "I'd kill for a home like this"

"I guess we all want what we can't have" she forced a smile

"If we were to help you get out, they would think we kidnapped you." Hosea spoke up, clearly pondering. "Who's to say we won't kidnap you? How do you know we aren't just a group of killers?"

"I know who you are. I know you used to be the real life robin hoods of our century. And i also know how unfair the law is on you" she stood up. "This is what i want to happen...."

Hours had passed since their next mission was discussed. Dutch just saw it as an easy ploy to get some money. Just like a heist. They were to wait on the marshy swamps of lemoyn, just a few yards from the back entrance of her home. When the moon was in the center of the sky, she would escape from the window of her home and mount their horse.

She had given them a large sum of money before they left, and will give them another when they have her. She had told her men that Dutch had visited her to warn her. To warn her that the Lemoyne raiders were planning to abduct her. This was to set them up, make them believe Dutch was the good guy in this story.

The plan was executed perfectly, she staged a kidnapping and fled to the van der Linde's'. She mounted Sean's horse and clung to him for dear life as they rode back to Shady Bell. Sean felt like a knight saving a princess in that fleeting moment. She felt like a rebel on the run, because she was.

"What now?" John asked, hitching his horse. They all turned to y/n.

"I spend as much time as i can away from that retched place."

Weeks had passed. Her face was plastered on trees, fences, lamp posts. Her parents sending out distressing news articles about the search for their lost daughter. She would sit and chuckle to herself. Idiots. Of course the stress of being caught was weighing on her, but the new freedom she had found for her self was exhilarating.

"You alright?" The familiar Irish accent rung our from behind her.

"All good over here, how about you?"

He nodded at her, taking a seat on the floor by the embers floating from the dim fire. "Ya not bored yet? Just sitting around all day?"

She shrugged " I Suppose so"

"C'mon. You're not a prisoner here." He climbed to his feet again, eager to have an excuse to spend some time with her. A hand was offered and she hesitantly grabbed it.

"Where we goin'?" she followed him to his horse, which he assisted in helping her onto it.

"First, to get you an appropriate change of clothes. Secondly, to hunt some game. Pearsons up my arse about our lack of supplies" He followed her onto the horse, moving her hands around him. "No one else seems to be getting a speech about lack of supplies" He finished, mumbling to himself as he reached for her hands to place on his waist.

"Whats wrong with my clothes?" She sounded almost offended from behind him. Her tone squeaky.

"Nothin!" He lifted the reins and began to trot out of the comfort of the walls. "Just could do with being more... what's the word. Cowboy...ish?"

"Cowboyish? Is that even a word?"

"It sure is now lass, hold on tighter will ya?" He smacked the reins down faster, causing his stallion to leap into a run.

They made their way towards Rhodes, but stopped just before entering the town. "What's your size, y/n?"

She smacked the back of him "What?"

"Hey hey! Just so i can get you some clothes. It's not safe for you to go into a town right now"

She rubbed the spot she had just hit with remorse. "Oh, my bad. I'm not sure, I never have to worry about those things"

He hopped off the horse and hitched it to a fence behind a building. "It's alright, I can guess. Don't move from this spot"

She waited on the horse for what felt like hours, but was in reality about 15 minutes. "You're such a pretty little thing, aren't you?" She cooed to the horse below her, running her fingers through his mane while her body was sprawled across its frame. Glances shared from passers by, wondering which hospital she had escaped from.

"Why, thank you." Sean chortled, throwing the change of clothes at her and pulling himself back onto the horse. She rolled her eyes, looking at the set of clothes he had chosen for her.

"And where do i get changed"

"Don't worry, lass. There's an abandoned cabin a few yards thata way" He pointed behind them, grabbing the reins of the horse and setting on their way. "We can hunt round here too"

He had picked out a simple white shirt for her, a pair of blue jeans and a classic brown cowboy hat. "Not much of a taste for fashion, i see" She walked out of the room, trying to adjust her hair under the hat.

"You look good lass! A true ruffian now. here" He moved the hat further back onto her head, and pulled out a few strands of her hair that was caught. She smiled as she mapped out his face, eyed focused on his task.

"What do i do with my old clothes?" "Leave them here. It'll make your trail warmer if anyone finds them, especially since this is usually a Lemoyne raider hideout"

He had hitched his horse on a tree nearby, returning to grab a worn down bow, then leaving the animal to peace again as he led her through the small area of trees.

"Mind ya step, y/n. These parts turn into swamp real quick. Don't wanna feed a gator you're foot." He fiddled with the string on the bow as his eyes darted over to a small pond hidden in a mist of trees. "Over there!"

Y/ns eyes followed his finger, pointing towards a small white rabbit. "Oh!" she knelt down "How adorable is that!".

She had only just finished cooing when an arrow was fired next to her head, hitting the creature in the heart and connecting it into the now stirred up mud. Her hands flew to her mouth in horror as this small life had been taken by the deranged ginger man.

"What a shot" He laughed to himself, already pulling the arrow and picking it up by the foot like he was manhandling an O'Driscoll.

"Whats a'matter with you? Never hunted before?"

"No!" She yelled with a question in her tone. "I don't think I ever could"

Sean brought over the rabbit and shoved it into her hands "Well, in me defense, I warned ya! What happened to the gerl that wanted an adventure, eh?"

She looked at her hands in disgust.

"C'mon, once you go home you'll never get to do this again. Give it a try."

She held the animal an arms length away from her and sighed. "Okay, but I'm not skinning anything" the rabbit in her hand was traded for a bow, turning away from the man when she heard the stretch of fur being torn away from the meat.

"Right" he threw the fur to the floor and mindlessly put the carcass in his satchel, feet popping out the top. "You see them trails over there?"

She nodded

"That's a deer, so you wanna be as quiet as you can and follow them. I recon she's close"

They did just that, creeping through the trees till the deers head was visible behind a large fallen tree, blanketed by overgrown grass. The sun peeking through the canopy, and highlighting the animal that would soon see its fate.

Y/n held the bow up, arrow in between her two fingers and shakily drew it back. Sean so close she could feel his breath on her ear lobe. "Now, before you let it go, breath with me" He took a deep inhale, and let it out. Repeating it until she had stopped shaking. "Slow yer heart down, makes the shot more accurate" He put a hand on her elbow "And you wanna hold it like this". Readjusting her position for her, he hummed in satisfaction. "Atta girl, now, let it go"

She inhaled one last time, letting the arrow go along with her breath.

"Well, I'll be damned!" He chuckled, running over to the carcass. "You were born a cowgirl, lass!"

Y/n didn't know whether she should be proud or ashamed, but in her head she rationalized it by telling herself it would feed people.

"Thank you, sean" She appeared behind him, trying not to watch as he cut through the skin of the deer.

"For what?"

"For teaching me something valuable. A life skill" She fiddled with the excess material of her large shirt.

"Well, of course. Thanks for the company" He stood up straight, watching her lips stretch into a smile. Admiring the lines on her face that showed she was happy. He felt their bodies somehow gravitating closer, unsure who was moving towards who.

"I appreciate being out of that house. And even more so having met you" her eyes struggled to stay at his, shifting down to her hands and back up accationally.

"me too" Was all he had the courage to mutter. Her breath felt on his cheek, and her lips so close he could almost taste them. Their time was limited, he should just grab her face and show her how much he wanted her. But she was far more valuable than just one night together.

"We should.. get this back. Pearson will moan if the meat is spoiled" It hurt him, but he couldn't. Pulling the body of the animal over his shoulder really killed the mood for her, she backed away and let out a disappointed sound.

Midday had made its decent into afternoon as the sun bowed its head in the sky. Heat still blazing in the swampy air. Most of the people at camp had begun to wind down for the day, coming to an end with their chores. Sean had helped y/n off the horse and went straight to the food wagon to make his deposit.

"You hear the price for the girl? Her family must be generous or worried sick" Pearson chuckled, taking a swig from a small flask before tucking it neatly into his apron and continuing to cut up a small selection of veg.

"Maybe we should give her back, that money could send us to Tahiti" He mimicked Dutchs tone, forcing his voice to crack. Lenny scoffed in return and Sean remained silent, leaning against the Wagon.

"Surely we can't do that" Lenny spoke, poking his finger into the bowl of stew to sneak a taste, resulting in Pearson swatting at him.

"Heard Dutch talking about the possibility of it earlier"

"What?" Sean sprung up. "Why? She already gave us money"

"Where there is an opportunity for more greens, you know Micha is already whispering sweet nothings into Dutchs ear"

"No!" A cry was heard from the walls of shady bell, alerting everyone. Arthur was the first to respond to the alarm, then sean, Lenny following close behind.

"Come on, princess, don't you miss having a shower?" Micha teased, chasing her around the master bedroom on the second floor. Both standing on either side of the double bed, Micha ducking his head as pieces of wood torn from the floor are thrown his way.

"Touch me again and i'll splinter your face" y/n shouted, holding the wood up. His laugh was dark, almost a growl.

"A feisty one! see, you're not fit for this lifestyle. Lets get you home!"

Before the men had a chance to jump into action, a chorus of horses sounded their way into their secluded home. Was it a raid? There was so many feet hitting the ground. The group made their way to the balcony, Sean stepping between Micha and Y/n. A hand instinctively snaking round her waist.

"Where is she? You have her?" a man frustratedly swung off his horse, storming towards the dark haired man with a marvelous mustache.

"Of course we do! Why would we claim something that isn't true, good sir?" Dutch gestured his hands like he did.

"What is this?" Arthur snarled at Micha, who began to back away. Making his way down to the scene with Arthur following, throwing insults at the rat. Hosea could be seen whispering to Dutch down below, a stern look on his face. An eye caught with y/n, and a look of sympathy was shared before he began to pass this argument onto Micha.

"Don't worry lass, I won't let them take you" Sean held her tighter, pulling her away from visibility.

"Sean" she mumbled

"We don't need your money, we don't. Just don't go, please" He sounded like a teenager begging his girlfriend not to go home on a school night. But he meant it, if she didn't believe his words she could see his pleading eyes.

"Sean, I need to go. This didn't last long but my fathers men... they will kill you. All of you"

"But we-"

"No, you're outnumbered this time" She interrupted him looking up and reaching for the bridge of her nose to stop a river of tears. "I appreciate this little adventure, more so with you Mister Macguire" She forced a smile, letting herself lean towards the sad man.

"Me too, miss l/n" Was all he could mumble, letting their bodies come closer.

"Y/n! Where is she!" the mans frustration was turning into rage, clutching at the hefty shotgun in his hands. A handful of his men following in suit.

Their moment was ruined again, and she fled from his embrace. Not a second to look behind at Sean running after her, still pleading for her to stay.

"There's our girl!" Dutch chuckles, an arm around her shoulder as he guides her towards the army on their doorstep. Arthur had grabbed Sean like a doll as he ran passed, keeping him from getting himself killed.

"We are outnumbered Sean" He said out the corner of his mouth "You gotta let this one go"

He watched at the money was exchanged and the possible love of his life was shoved on the horse with such force. Hostile glances shared from the suited up men, knowing she was in for hell when she would return. She refused to look at him, ashamed that she didn't choose to run with him. She should have. She should have kissed him, at least.

His body writhed under the bears grip. "get offa me Morgan!" He hollered, trying to wriggle free.

"We will get her back Sean, we aren't animals." Hosea offered some comfort, watching the horses disappear around the corner.

The Irishman felt a hold form in his heart as she faded from his vision. "I didn't even kiss her"

[asoulwithadream]

hear me out here because i have this idea, and i've been thinking about it for only hour now, and it's almost midnight and i have two major assignments due tomorrow morning but this takes precedence

so buckle up guys, cos sherlock bbc......... but doctor who bbc (this will all make sense in a moment)

I. the characters are absolutely perfect for all the relevant roles, and im sure there are tons of others which i just haven't thought of yet:

sherlock as the doctor: he has the intelligence, the deduction, the spontaneity, the trauma, and some of the humour (current work in progress). i'll admit his charisma can be better but we've seen a few awkward reiterations of the doctor in the past, so i'll let it slide. it'll give him character. his little quirk of knowing the most useless stuff about the most useless things to solve the most important cases but in space could be such an interesting perspective to see, and look at what the writers come up with surrounding the details of the galactic environments. and to be honest, the doctor themselves are already essentially a consulting detective, the only difference being that they hire themselves. plus, i feel like he would be oddly extremely attached to his tardis, and maybe his screwdriver could have like a collapsable magnifying glass at the other end, just for shits and giggles. he'd also remind me of twelve a bit, and not just because of the cheekbones.dr

john watson as the companion: he has the morals which the doctor sometimes lacks, the rational thinking, he's the emotional support for the over-the-top doctor, he essentially fulfils every role of a companion. we can see how it fits in with his sherlock bbc character too: as many of the doctor's companions, he learns over time and actually becomes higher-than-averagely adept at working out solutions for problems. hes so wonderfully human, and it would fit well with the alien/human dynamic between the doctor and his companion. and i feel like john would have big rory energy. we haven't even taken in the consideration of the "the doctor. which one?" jokes.

jim moriarty as the master: don't tell me you can't see it, because you know deep down that i am right. both the master and moriarty are chaos loving antagonistic figures, charming and charismatic, full of ambition to control whatever they can and whoever they want, yet they focus on what they may consider their homoerotic arch-rival. plus, they're commonly referred to with a name beginning with the letter "m" (which is literally just bonus points!) and just imagine the possibilities of a female moriarty. like fuck off that's too much for my blood pressure. (eurus?????)

irene adler as river song: it's the vibe, it's the attitude, it's the intelligence. irene would be such a good river: she's independent, a borderline criminal, and witty beyond anyones comprehension. however, in this case irene would be a mix of both the irene from the book and from the show, since she's substantially smarter in terms of "who has the biggest brains" in the books rather than the tv series. nevertheless, i would still like to have her as not a love-interest but a love possibility, edging on that with the maximum being flirts, and obviously john in the background going full rory mode (as mentioned earlier). i just think it would be so neat.

greg lestrade as kate stewart: police/chief officer on earth, usually the one to contact the doctor when the planet is in danger? has some form of kind of stale yet wholesome but confusing friendship with the doctor, where they know both a lot and absolutely nothing about him? i think it fits the criteria for greg lestrade perfectly, and i love that it adds the possibility of banter between sherlock's doctor and chief greg of unit.

mycroft holmes as a member of the high gallifreyan council: what could the doctor consider to be the greatest nuisance, and what has recordedly tampered with his relationships and plans and life in the past? the council of his home planet, which could realistically allow for one of the doctor's brothers to be part of the council, and possibly even be it's leader. however, a cool dynamic which i think could be explored is that mycroft wouldn't be the head of the council but rather a side yet very important member, who can slightly interefere with the council's plan to assist his brother sometimes, only sticking by the rules if he disagrees entirely with the doctor. what his time-lord name could be? the officer, the official (something like that), though i'd appreciate name ideas

mrs hudson as sarah jane smith: this was a bit hard to decide on, but i think this is by far the most interesting idea i've had for mrs hudson after a solid 5 minutes of looking up characters. i can see mrs hudson, or martha as she'd be called then, act as a companion for the doctor in a previous reincarnation many years ago, like in the 70s or 80s, otherwise staying at home at 221a baker street, working on a computer and serving cuppas should the doctor and john ever stop by. could give a more alien context to her drug dealing husband; maybe he was caught up in an otherwordly drug scandal, and that's how the doctor and mrs hudson ended up meeting. additionally, i think that she'd also have k9, but he'd be shaped a bit like a bull-dog after the bull pup which john has in the books.

II. the tardis. there are so many ideas for the tardis itself, and i can imagine that she'd kind of resemble a hybrid child of eleven's tardis and the interior of the 221b flat. plus, she could have an address this time: 221b, anywhere. i know it sounds a bit corny, but i wanted to find a way to weave in the famous address into this narrative.

III. wholock.

i just think this is a super neat idea. do reblog with ideas

[inafieldofdaisies]

18. bear hugs

For Mary May and Cal (with Zorro maybe?) <3

Prompt from this post.

Mary May followed what could barely be called a path snaking through the woods, her eyes periodically darting down to the crudely drawn map Calahan had left for her. "I will be waiting, Angel." was scribbled next to an X marking what he deemed his favorite fishing spot that as far she could tell wasn't any of the ones the locals frequented. Multiple times she questioned her decision to come at all, trying to convince herself to turn around and trek back to her truck before she would inevitably lose daylight and end up completely lost. "This is dumb. Foolish as hell.", she mumbled out loud, her frown deepening as she navigated the rough terrain, "And Casey from all people is manning the bar. It would be a miracle if it's still standing when I return." Yet no matter how many times she reminded herself John's men could choose that exact moment to make another move, a part of her that always took over against her better judgment anytime Hartley was around, pulled her forward like a niddle of a compass, like she could feel him near and was drawn to find him at any cost. Compass- another thing she wished she had taken with her along with a goddamned flashlight. For a second she contemplated calling out for Calahan, sensing she must be getting closer to the place he was supposed to be waiting for her at, then she decided against the idea, worrying about drawing the attention of any Peggies that knowing her luck, could be lurking in the woods. "Should have brought my shotgun. Fucking stupid… leaving it in my truck, because 'who the fuck brings a shotgun to a date'?", her hands clutched the map tighter when she heard twings snapping somewhere to her left that made her pick up her pace.

Just when she was about to spin on her heel and completely give up on Calahan's reckless plan, the path finally opened up to quite the breathtaking view, especially with the sun beginning to set: a shoreline of a small lake that John by some miracle still hadn't stained with a Baptism spot. "Rookie?", she hollered as she shoved the map into her back pocket and scanned the area for any signs of life, "Cal? You better not have sent me on a wild goose chase, I swear I won't let you leave it down." Then a sight made her release the breath she was holding as she got confirmation she was where she was supposed to be: a raccoon emerged from one of the overgrown shrubs ahead of her, its small head twisting to look her way. "Zorro, bud.", Mary May rushed to cover the distance that separated them in case Zorro decided to play hide and seek like his human father, "Where did your daddy go? Don't tell me he got into trouble…" The second the words left her mouth, arms wrapped around her from behind and enveloped her in a bear hug, a chuckle breezing over her skin before Calahan smushed his cheek to hers, "I'm right here, Angel. Was starting to think you won't show and it would be just me and Zorro again." There was a note of vulnerability to his playful tone, causing her heart to skip a breath as she covered his hands with her own, and their fingers intertwined. Zorro followed suit, paws encircling her leg, "Your little map and note certainly piqued my interest." Calahan swayed lightly, and she tried to stop herself from melting into his body when his lips brushed over her cheek, "I knew mystery would do the trick. How do you like my favorite place in the Valley?" "It's… peaceful. Almost like there's no war going.", Mary May muttered slowly, wishing she hadn't asked the next question the moment it escaped her, "You bring other girls here?" He let out a deep laugh, making the ugly feeling inside her fester further. Jealousy. "Never mind, Rookie.", her attempt to shrug off his hug was unsuccessful as he held on then as swiftly as he had embraced he twirled her around to face him, hands coming to rest on the small of her back.

"Calahan." "What?" He smirked, "That's my name, Mary May. You back to actin' all disinterested? Calling me Rookie?" Mary May shifted her eyes to a spot on his shoulder, annoyance swooping in at how easy he was able to read her and how satisfied he seemed with that ability. "Jealousy, Angel, not something I ever imagined from you. But damn, if it's not addicting… You know why? It means you care for me." His hand cupped her face and forced her to raise her gaze back to his before he continued, "Just my favorite people, Mary May. You, my son, my boys, Sabrina. Made the mistake to drag Pratt here once, kept complaining he couldn't catch any fish, the fucker." A couple of beats passed where she found herself unable to stop herself from returning his smile, "Damn it, Cal." "What?", Calahan asked in amusement. "I wish I hadn't… waited so long." His thumb storked her cheek as he nodded knowingly, "Me too. Come now, the view's about to get even better when the sun dips completely." He grasped her hand, leading her down the shore until they stopped at a blanket, one he had no doubt taken from her closet, on top of it was an old picnic basket, another thing of hers. She lowered herself to sit next to him as he started to pull out food and laying it down on the free space, "Let me guess, you rummaged through my fridge, too?" "Nope. Well, kind of... Drinks are on you, yes... but", he offered her a cheeky grin, "Dinner's on John tonight." Mary May raised an eyebrow, making him add, "I looted one of his trucks on the way. Don't worry, I left him a little thank you note." "Of course you did." She leaned her head on his shoulder as they watched the sunset with Zorro nestling comfortably at her feet. For the first time in a long while, she realized she felt… happy and as much as she hated to admit it - it scared her, because in her experience the rare feeling never lasted. John Seed always managed to slip in at those moments and destroy any source of happiness. Her calm life before the Project. Her family. Her father's business. The fragile peace that held on for surprisingly too long in his region. Yes, she was afraid. Afraid he'd take Calahan away from her, too.

[the-white-soul]

Flowey: You don't care about your own kid! Toriel did! I did! If anyone is listening right now, that should make sense. I bet a blind person could make the most rational decision here if that means they can't tell who's human or monster.

You're calling them dumb them nonstop, saying and acting like you don't even care, degrading monsterkind which had the only people who actually showed them love. What kind of a living being are you? Is everyone insane here?! I showed you proof and yet you still think we were bad to them! Why would they trust us so much when they ran away from you, their "family," to kill themselves, only to fail and kill themselves again for our sake!

*He's providing so much good reasoning, but this woman remains full of so much hate and ignorance. What's the point in trying to be nice if this is what he'll get? Almost no one else is even trying to speak up (Thanks, John) which gives thim the impression either no one cares and they're all with Chara's mom, or they're too scared to say anything. Either way, that means there's no reason for him to not lash out.*

What the fuck did you do to Chara?!

*Vines suddenly grab and whip the crazy mother, and even worse than the way the police beat Toriel, Flowey begins to snap bones and slash deep cuts without a moment of rest. He wraps a vine around her head, adding increasing pressure until it would explode like a watermelon. The whole time he forms a tall, thorny circle around them that would push away anyone who got close, preventing anyone from interfering and shielding the eyes of children and cameras. Once she is killed, he drags the body under the dirt and lets down the makeshift barrier. He looks angry and slightly teary-eyed. He mutters to himself.* ... I bet Chara felt way more pain than that.

All the others flee far, knowing what they're up against. (Kara) "Wow, that was fantastic." Papyrus had his mouth wide open. (Dess) "Why didn't you tell me about his power? Yeah, I know they stopped Clover, but an entire field of people. Speaking of fields, I should tell you something important. The Flowey in this world isn't Asriel. I don't know who it is. No one besides Frisk does." (Kara) "Well, let's meet this Flowey. John, you're coming too." (John) "Well, I guess the humans would kill me in an instant. I'll go." We all started 'walking'(Flowey just digs) to their home. (Kara) "Hey, speaking of which, what did make you want to be a good person.' (John) "I was one of Chara's classmates and… There was a brief pause as John looked to Flowey I'm not going to say what happened unless Flowey wants to know. Long story short, it made some of us very angry. Thank god she's dead now." Flowey popped out of the ground (Flowey) "Hi everyone." (Kara) "Um, hi. Why do you…" (Dess) "KARA GET DOWN!!!" A barrage of bullets comes Kara's way, which they dodge. (Flowey) "What's wrong? You must've learned already. I see you have a little flower friend yourself. Hi Buttercup, you have a fire inside you. I'm glad at least that never changed. So cat's out of the bag, I'm not just Flowey." (Kara) "Well, what's your name?" (Flowey) "I've been called many things in my day, a demon to some, a savior to others, but to you, buttercup Shows heart locket I'm your best friend forever!!!" (Kara) "Chara." (Chara Flowey) "Yep, that's me." (Kara) "This is great. I can bring you to the humans. I'll have…" (Chara Flowey) "You think they would care? You and I both saw what happened back there. Plus, it's funny." (Dess) "FUNNY?!" (Chara Flowey) "You don't realize how hilarious this is? People are as blind as a bat. I can't believe it sometimes. Humanity always surprises me." (Kara) "I know, but it's worth trying to see if humans agree." (Chara Flowey) "Started laughing in everyone's faces. You're being serious? Your pain is the most fun I've had in a while. Why would I give it up?" (Kara) "You are one of the worst Floweys I've ever met." (Chara Flowey) "I want to watch the world burn. =)."

[youngjustus]

raven’s name has technically been rachel roth for 20 years too but im not fucking calling her that lmao…idk for me it’s partially 1) fuck johns and the way he sought to completely change kon’s character and spit in the face of all his prior development just to make his stupid fan theory canon 2) having a character go from going by kon to conner is like going from tim to timothy. why make it longer, yfeel? and 3) 50% of the people who call him conner misspell it as connor, which would be fine (annoying, but ultimately harmless) except dc already has a connor, and i’m vehemently against dc’s inability to come up with an original name for any of their characters. hashtag team jon should’ve been given literally any other name bc there’s already like 6 jonathan kents

i know there is a lot to criticize about johns's run, but i honestly don't find a lot of things with what he did with conner leading up to his death in infinite crisis in terms of characterization to be out of character. although, full disclosure, i haven't revisited teen titans vol. 3 in [checks calendar] 7 years, so there might be some gaps in my memory.

i like that he's getting used to having an actual structured life with going to school and living in a house with parents that care about him. he's also still dealing with the aftermath of the finale of his solo series and graduation day! he's adjusting! it would be normal for him to feel weird and off. this is a post that i made a few years ago with a good addition from another user that puts this well.

however, i do generally dislike the luthor reveal because of how many stories that came after for conner have so heavily focused on it, when a) we already did something similar in the 90's with his original backstory and b) it contributes to one of the most annoying fan discourses i've had to see for my entire comics reading experience regarding superman being a 'dead beat dad'. unfortunately, at this point, it is a part of canon that is ingrained in too many fans and writers' heads, and is tied into too many plot lines for them to go away with it. such is the nature of a shared intellectual property! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i think i'm probably misreading what you're saying, but kon isn't short for conner, and i don't think tim's full name is a good comparison. they’re two separate names. i've posted about the origin's of the name kon-el a few times over the years, and i even have the issue where he receives it in my personal comic collection. it is a very important part of the character's history, and a good thing to point to when people doubt the positive relationship between conner and superman. the name is one with real history, and it is a gift!

this is where my own headcanons and speculation comes in: it makes the most amount of sense to me that conner is a name that he specifically chose himself when he was adopted by the kents.

if somehow i missed a random issue of superman or action comics from between when his superboy series was canceled to him showing up in teen titans that gives an origin to the civilian name conner kent, or even just an interview with the creatives discussing the issue the name first shows up in, please send it my way!

if such a comic or interview does not exist, and if i ever had the chance to write the character, this is 100% something i'd like to explore. i have my own ideas that i've thought about a lot over the years (and even a middle name picked, too).

i also think that there are much bigger problems with dc comics than a few characters sharing a first name. like a lot more problems.

conner is his name as much as it is kon, and it's not wrong to call him it in the way that it's not wrong to refer to superman as clark or kal. the comparison at the start of this ask to raven is interesting, but i think the key difference there is that rachel roth feels like a regression (she's deaged and put in high school) and to me conner kent is further growth (being with the family that wants him in their lives).

[jessaerys]

What are your lgbtq headcanons for nello and for near? To you what do they identify as?

unless the characters themselves are preoccupied with identity politics i usually don’t find it interesting to assign them labels – HOWYEVER, (borrowing from resident mello expert @firebuggg PhD, some excerpts of her lovely writing below) i love the idea that while mello was out in the world making a name for himself he was taken in and taken care of by all kinds of communities on the outskirts; sex workers, drag queens, queer bars, leather daddies, kink groups, etc. etc. all of which influenced his own self identification and gave him a strong sense of belonging in queer spaces :’) 

Clubs and hostels and drag shows and winking red lights: Mello had been quick to discover that he was likely to find friends, shelter, a temporary landing place among them with few questions asked. (...) There were always people who were welcoming, especially the people already on the outskirts: Mello has slept backstage at drag shows and comedy clubs, has found shelter and companionship in dark alleys and clubs and amidst leather and small kitchens and hot, crowded rooms.

but labels wise, classic ol’ salt-of-the-earth slutty bisexual – i believe this may be an unpopular opinion? we all know he's gay asf but i think he’d also be into assertive older women (see: halle, minora. *whip noise*) this bad boy can fit SOO many mommy issues in him (specially in @firebuggg's and i’s headcanons/writing where he spent the first five-ish years of his life with his mother during the 90s yugoslav wars, but that's a whole other topic.)(i also think he’d be into mean switch4switch girls his age that are basically himself but girl gender. for obvious reasons.) 

that said he'd drop the slut life in a heartbeat for near. like i can't explain this and i almost always write ships with semi-open relationships but. mello wants to be monogamous with the bug-eyed kid SOOO bad it makes him look STUPID

near likes. uuuuuuuuuh, mello. you can make any argument for any identity in a vacuum but in any universe where he grows up alongside mello his entire sexual awakening and formative puberty experiences are mortifyingly rewritten by years of getting bullied by what is essentially a mean but occasionally caring older brother figure. sorry. you fucked up a perfectly good teenage boy is what you did. look at him. he’s got a choking kink

i cannot imagine near caring for sexuality or gender labels (there's a whole other digression here about near's alienation from community/having no past/being racially ambiguous/john silver quote "i am no one. from nowhere. belonging to nothing." HURGH. but we don't have time to get into that)

BUT i do like to think that mello does his damnedest to take him out to gay bars in chelsea and the west village to experience ~the queer community~ but what actually happens is near starts philosophical discussions in a corner that keep going long after he slips out and often end in insane bar fights. (he also gets progressively freakier as he gets older) (long haired near is a public indecency arrest waiting to happen)(possibly the one to suggest experimenting with other people, together)(mello does not take this well)  

adasdjasdjkasjksajkfdsjkfjksd this got long for someone who started with i don’t care about identity politics. and i don’t

[thegreathomestuckreread]

so i'm rereading homestuck2 because when i read the new update i could hardly remember what it was referring to

and i just got to the yiffy reveal and read the whole page where jade and rose explain it to john (pg. 234)

and look i know there are so many problems people have with this whole ordeal on like a moral level or whatever but rn i'm just like............ god it's just fucking stupid? and not in a 'haha omg that's so stupid i love it' way, but in a 'genuine befuddlement at what the actual fuck thought process could possibly lead someone to make such bad stupid writing decisions' way

it just does not make sense on a character level for anyone involved, to not talk to kanaya at all in the first place and then just keep this whole child a secret for 15 years tucked away at a boarding school when the explanation given for having it in the first place is that jade was feeling lonely and left out and wanted some of the normalcy she perceived in her peers and had generally ached for her whole life

jade's reasoning for wanting a child in the first place and all those complicated feelings, that mostly checks out, that's not what i think is stupid, it's just the execution of it all, up to and including the child's name

like if she was deeply aching for this child and sense of normalcy then having the child secretly, giving it the dumbest name known to bipedal sentient life, and hiding it so she could basically never see it seems like the antithesis to the solution here

i also skimmed the recap page for the epilogues at some point, which reminded me that this sort of mind-twisting what-the-fuck garbage is par for the course here and especially in the candy universe. i haven't reread the epilogues since i finished streaming them, which was over four years ago, because at that time i decided that i didn't really want to put myself through that again, and as i skimmed the recap and physically cringed at the events described i am now recalling why i never touched it again

to clarify i'm not like seething with deep rage at any of this, i'm just kinda like. oh. well that's fucked. and just like generally bad :/ why would you do that

and i'm still excited to continue following what comes next, as i generally enjoy the creative vision of the new team like james roach and kim quach and floralmarsupial and haven vintagefoods

i don't remember how i originally felt about any of this stuff but it's been interesting refreshing myself on the tonal shift between hs proper and hs2 (which i really should start referring to as hsbc because they have formally removed the 2 from the title)

there's absolutely still parts i have enjoyed about hs2 as i reread it this is just. very very far from being that. yeah

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 32

Crossroad Blues/Tooth and Claw

I think I'm in for two good episodes tonight...

"Crossroad Blues"

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: Are we getting our first glimpses of hell hounds? (as far as we really get glimpses of them anyway) Sorry to this man, but you don't trade away your soul for the ability to play an instrument (if that's what you did). You better be the best there's ever been already when your soul is on the line. Yet to be seen...but I don't think I'd be selling my soul, so they wouldn't be after me anyway...

Dean, that's definitely a "you're right but you didn't have to say it" kind of thought. Not every...no, I don't know that there are very many people who would be thinking about how much or...how hard a hell hound could hump your leg...

DEAN DOESN'T KNOW WHAT MYSPACE ISSSSS. Poor thing. Also...omg MYSPACE being relevant. But '06 is about right. Facebook is still pretty much just for college students. They MIGHT have opened it up to high schoolers by then.

Man, this demon was just making deal after deal at that bar. Makes sense, I promised to name my first born Red Gyarados while at a bar with friends once.

Ok. I get it now. The demon at this particular crossroads is REALLY, REALLY PRETTY. But you wanted to make that pact BEFORE you saw her, sir.

OKAY. If so few people believe in the supernatural in this fictional universe, how are all these people making this many pacts in so little time?

This guy's the only one..........oh, sorry. It's an "Oh, Dean" time for me. Them piecing together and stewing over the fact John made that deal.

This demon is good....at being a demon, not actually good.

This...music is not sounding good for this demon. Don't worry, Dean. You will know sooner or later (end of next season) what Hell is like.

Sam's worry and uncertainty as to what Dean was planning on doing when he trapped the demon is...I wanna give him a hug

Not a bad episode. The information they got was important, but there was just a lot of "this person made a deal and so we need to track them down" that...just didn't interest me

"Been On My Mind...": The demon kisses to seal their pacts, but otherwise...nothin'

"Tooth and Claw"

...why do I feel like I've turned on the wrong show?? Seems like it's at least from the right country, but this opening scene is....just...wtf. Why was there a huge martial arts fight??

Ok. I am actually watching the right show. Still. What. the actual. fuck. was that opening?!

Hearing David get to use his natural Scottish accent IS in fact doing things for me. And Rose trying to copy and FAILING MISERABLY is perfection

7 minutes in and I couldn't agree more with the post I reblogged a few days ago. Those two definitely fucked since the last episode

Oh...oh. THIS is where Torchwood as a concept begins (physically, it's already been mentioned several times in the show, even if I didn't. Somehow, I never watched Torchwood.)

OH THAT TELESCOPE. it's BEAUTIFUL.

For a scene that consists of food being prepared and Rose going through the lady of the house's closet, the music is INTENSE.

Ooooo jumpscaaare. Maid in the closet. Starts telling Rose everything as all the guards get drugged. This is a WEIRD episode for on that deals with time travel and not space travel.

So...the werewolf is actually an alien possessing a human?

One of my favorite things about Doctor Who especially in this era is how fake the CGI monsters look. Like, I love practical effects when you can do them, but there's something about bad TV CGI that I really do like. It's charming, in a way that bad CGI in movies isn't

Watching the Doctor figure out that there's a trap within the trap for Queen Victoria that's meant for the wolf is like watching Brian David Gilbert try to reconcile the Legend of Zelda timeline, and I have to wonder if he got any inspiration for his whole thing for Unraveled from this.

The diamond...as soon as I saw it, I knew it was meant to go in that telescope

Also the piecing together historical fact with what has just occurred in the episode, making the royal family werewolves this time around is always a fun time.

(I think I wrote too much the other day and I'm suffering because of that)

[glorious-imagines]

Nosedive

Sequel to Crushed

Jason had messaged her multiple times since their breakup. Mostly, he was blocked. He knew it was unfair of him to want to communicate with her. He just couldn't help himself. He, at least, hoped they could be friends again.

A cup of coffee was sat in front of him. "Girl, troubles?" His favorite waitress asked, light tone trying to hide her worry.

He gave her a sly smirk. "Are there any other kinds of trouble?"

"You alone make up half of them." She joked as she wrote down his usual order and handed it to a passing waiter.

"You wound me, Gabby." He feigned hurt, wrenching his shirt in one hand.

"So," she slid into the seat across from him. "Tell mama Gabs all about the girl that has you all up in your feelings."

Jason chuckled, "I'm not in my feelings."

She raised a brow, "Jay, you've been staring at your phone with that hit puppy look since you got here."

"Whats wro--"

"You've been here for over an hour." He finds he can't deny her claims. "If I didn't have a shift, you'd have been kicked out. You didn't even order anything."

He sips his coffee. "Thanks, Gabs..."

"Now, tell me what happened."

Jason huffed and sank further into his seat. "Her name is Y/n. She's the most amazing woman, I've ever met." He told her everything that happened.

"What the hell, Jay? Did you fucking cheat on her?!"

"What?" Jason sneered.

"I swear to fucking god, Jason, I will kick your ass--" she threated.

"Gabs, I would never cheat. You know me better than that." They stared each other down before she relented.

"Fine, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. But this timeline isn't making sense."

"Thats because it was supposed to be a one night stand. It was before Y/n and I even got together. She said she was on birth-control..."

Gabby nods along, piecing things together easily. "So you put your... gunk in her?"

Jason bursts with laughter at this. "Gunk?"

"Well, I don't like thinking of you like that. It's gross." She feigned a baby barf.

He shakes his head with a smile. "Anyway, she took it upon herself to keep said gunk swirling around in her." She throws a ketchup packet at him.

"Without talking to you?"

He shakes his head solemnly, fidgeting with the ketchup packet. "No, she did, but what was I supposed to say? 'Get an abortion?' That would make me a piece of shit. She even gave me an out."

"So, why didn't you take the out?"

His smile became dejected. "How could I, Gabs?"

"Even at the cost of losing the woman you truly love?"

"If I leave the kid, I know I'll regret it. Now, isn't the right time to have a kid. Especially not in my line of work. But I couldn't say that I'd stop. It would never be the right time. I can't abandon this kid. Leave them wondering what they did wrong..."

"Jay..." She said quietly when she noticed his eyes becoming misty.

He takes a moment to collect himself. "I love Y/n, but I'm not about to leave my kid high and dry. It'll be hard to balance work and home but I know I can do it."

His food arrives, interrupting the flow of the conversation. Gabby can tell when Jason is done talking. She leaves him to eat but keeps an eye on him until he leaves.

...

Y/n had thrown herself into work. Both hero and not. She took many extra missions and when she couldn't she worked overtime at her day job. There was hardly a moment to think. And she preferred this.

Currently, Y/n was on her way back to work from lunch. She sipped her favorite boba and scrolled through her phone. She immediately noticed when someone was following her. Their steps were light and shakey, unsure. They weren't there to harm her, apparently.

Before she knew it, the steps had retreated. Whoever it was, they weren't a threat. Maybe they just thought she was someone else.

Her phone vibrated in her hand, John Stewart's face showed on the caller ID. She debated if she wanted to answer or not. If she did she'd probably have to leave work. She sipped her boba.

"You were just going to let me go to voicemail?" Green Lantern floated down to her.

She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Next time, just come thru with a whole ass blimp and some fireworks. That'll really get peoples attention."

He powered down his ring, choosing to ignore the sarcasm. "I heard about the breakup, Y/n."

Her face pulls into a scowl, "You're about three months late on that, G."

"Well, excuse me for having intergalactic duties." He puts a hand on her shoulder, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No. I'd rather forget it ever happened." He raises a brow. "Yeah, obviously I'm not gonna forget or use magic. So, I'm doing the next best thing."

"Keeping yourself so busy that you neglect your health?" He chided her. "Y/n, everyone is worried about you."

"For what?!" She snapped, "I'm fine! Just like when his ex showed up and they had a private conversation. Or when he told me that she was fucking carrying his seed. And even now that we're not together anymore… I'm. Doing. Just. Fine."

John pulls her into a hug. "Listen, kid, it's okay to not be okay. It's okay to be angry and hurt… and even to still wanna be with him." He gently stroked her hair. "Your feelings don't somehow make you less and no one gets to tell you how to deal with them."

"Even if I decide to kill them?" She mumbled against his chest.

He chuckles, "I could leave'em on a deserted planet if you want."

"As if his family would let that happen. It's a nice thought, though."

A woman cleared her throat behind Y/n. "E-excuse me, can I have a moment with Y/n?"

With the way Y/n went so rigid in his hold, John could guess who the woman was. "I don't think--"

"And let's keep it that way, G." Y/n interrupted, her frown finding its way back. "I'll contact you if I need anything." At his hesitancy, she made him a promise and he flew off.

Y/n stuffed her free hand in her pocket to keep from punching a pregnant woman. 'Her face isn't pregnant,' her thoughts retorted but she shut the impulse down.

"I sent a text, but…" Isabel trailed.

"If its one thing bitches gon' have it's the motherfucking audacity."

"Excuse me…?" She faltered.

"Obviously, you're blocked. What the hell gave you the idea that I wanted to talk to you?" She crushed the boba cup in her hand causing it to spill over and making Isabel jump a bit.

"I-I only came to apologize--"

"For what? Destoying my perfect relationship?"

"Jason deserved to know. It was his decision to be a father."

By now, Y/n was beyond pissed. This bitch was just asking to be smacked up. "You didn't come here to apologize. You came to absolve yourself of your guilt. And I am not going to help you with that."

"I was trying to be the bigger person but you're too childish. Jason choosing me was the best decision he's made."

"Bitch--!"

Y/n was about to tear into Isabel when a hand was on her shoulder. "You're making my friend angry. And that makes me angry. Leave before I forget you're pregnant."

"Fine but Jason will hear about this." She stomps off like a toddler denied candy.

"Ugh, I need a drink."

"Me too, I'll buy."

"Thanks, Shana. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Apparently, threatening pregnant women." Shana turns to her, brow raised. "Who the hell is that?"

"I'll explain on the way." Y/n tosses the destroyed boba in the trash.

At some random bar Y/n finishes explaining her life's current events. "Anyway, she sucks, he sucks, and I will never love again."

"Or, and hear me out, maybe you need someone to help with the process a little?" Shana smiles at her suggestively.

Y/n frowns, dread filling her stomach. "Oh no, what are you thinking?"

"The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, duh." Shana rolls her eyes like Y/n should've known that. "I came to ask for help for a mission but shirking my responsibilities is more fun."

NEXT

[holylulusworld]

Masks we wear

Title: Masks we wear

Square filled for @spnkinkbingo: Aftercare

Summary: You try to find relief and end up finding so much more.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: John Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of shitty relationships, sex parties, public sex, voyeurism, daddy kink, aftercare, mentions of safewords/sexual terms/hard limits, consent is sexy, winter-summer romance, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, doggy style, dirty talk, spanking (one slap), a hint of choking (more like hand around throat), longing, there are feelings and fluff too, sue me, falling in love

Words: 3,5 k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

You still don’t know why you came here. 

Is it because your ex called you uptight, or the fact that you feel uncomfortable and insecure in the bedroom since you saw him bang one of your friends? Is it because you finally want to get laid again? Or maybe you just wanted to get out of your comfort zone.

“Another one,” you tip your glass to order another alcohol-free drink. If you are doing this tonight, you want to be sober, not drunk. “Do many people come here?” the bartender doesn’t answer your question. “Hello?”

“She won’t answer your questions, sweetness. The bartender serves drinks and doesn’t like to get involved in…our games,” a deep voice whispers in your ear, chuckling as you shudder at his closeness. “Is this your first time here? Do you need a tour?

“That obvious,” you turn on your barstool to face a handsome elder man. His hazel eyes seem to bore into you, and you look away, feeling a little light-headed as his musk fills your senses. “A friend of a friend told me about these…uh—you know…”

“Sex parties?” he offers, giving you a dirty smirk. He runs his hand over his salt-n-pepper beard, still that smirk on his face. “I see. What does a pretty girl like you doing at this kind of place?”

He sits on the empty barstool next to you, ordering whiskey neat. He glances at you now and then, sipping at his drink while you think about his question. “I give the question right back? What is a man like you doing in a place like this?”

“I had a wife, and raised my kids with her,” he takes a large sip of his drink. “She left me ten years ago for a younger model.” The man bitterly admits. “My sons are grown men now and I’ve got enough of women leaving me as I do not suit their taste after a few months.” 

He shrugs as you watch him with curiosity. “My boyfriend called me uptight and boring in the bedroom. Sucking his dick and trying new positions, sex toys and crap isn’t enough these days. I’m telling you; porn ruined all men.”

“Not all of us, doll,” he leans closer, eyes dropping to your cleavage. “If he’s bored in the bedroom, it’s his fault. You want to have good sex, be a good lover first.” Fuck, the look on his face already makes you clench your thighs together. “Do you know about the rules in here?”

“A little,” you whimper as he reaches out to grip your chin with his rough finger.

“You can do everything, but you don't have to, doll,“ he kisses your lips softly, making you moan against him. “If you consent, I’d like to fuck you.”

“I don’t even know your name,” you wrap one arm around his neck to kiss him again. “How shall I call you?”

“Daddy, beautiful,” he whispers against your lips. “I’m going to explain a few things to you. We can link our profiles on the app the organizer provides. This way, you’ll always get a notification that I’m around at one of these parties.”

“Daddy,” you let the name roll off your tongue, giggling as you never called a man daddy before. “I kinda like it.”

“With your consent, I’ll call you doll,” nodding you wrap your other arm around his neck to let daddy deepen the next kiss. “I’ve got a room reserved to play. I don’t like sharing a room with the crowd.”

“Same,” he laughs as you eagerly slide off the barstool and take his offered hand. “I mean, I never did this before but having your room isn’t that bad. How did you get it?”

He shrugs, not giving away how he got the room. “Just relax, doll. We will talk before I even touch you. If you want to stop, I will.”

“Okay. How do I tell you so?” he unlocks the door to his room with a card, smirking as you walk inside to have a look around the room. Your heart thunders in your chest and you wonder if it was a good idea to follow the stranger into his room.

“We can use the color system tonight, doll. If we do this more often, we can have a special safeword too. Or do you want one tonight?” he closes the door and locks it. “I will lock the door but put the card on the nightstand. You can go any time.”

“Okay,” you’re a little nervous when daddy kicks his shoes off and shrugs his jacket down his shoulders. His eyes never leave your face, and you feel like he’s overserving your every move. “I’d like to use a safe word, daddy. Can I use pepperoni?”

“Of course. If you say pepperoni, I’ll stop immediately,” he flashes you a smile. “I will show you my current test, the one we had to do at the beginning of the party. You’ll do the same.”

“I’m clean,” you get your phone out to show daddy the test you did when you entered the large mansion to attend the party. He does the same, “and I’ve got a birth control implant.”

“Perfect,” you lick your lips when daddy steps toward you to slide the straps of your dress down your shoulders. “What are your hard limits?”

“No anal,” he’s kissing your neck, smirking as you moan loudly. “I never did it and don’t want to start tonight.”

“Noted, doll,” daddy nibbles at your shoulder while moving one hand between your legs. He chuckles as you are wearing crotchless panties. “What else?” You whimper, feeling his index finger toy with your clit.

“I don’t like pain or toilet stuff. No bondage or restraints during the first time together,” two fingers gather your slick, teasing your little nub. 

“I won’t, doll,” you don’t know the man shoving two fingers inside your slit but believe him when he tells you he won’t do anything you do not like. “We want to have fun, right?”

“Yeah,” he curls his fingers, inside of you, scissoring you open. “Fun. No strings attached, but safe and anonymous.”

“Good girl,” his fingers leave you empty seconds later and he pushes you onto the bed, smirking as you bounce off the mattress. “I want you to show me that pretty ass. Spread those legs for me, doll.”

You eagerly crawl to the middle of the bed to spread your legs and stick your ass out. “Daddy, I want you to fuck my pussy. Please. I need you.”

“Doll,” he groans deeply, enjoying you play your role so well. “You are going to get daddy’s cock right fucking now. I’ll make you cream all over me and fill this cunt with my seed.”

“Please—”

He’s on you in a blink, hands pawing at your dress to rip it down your chest to reveal your breasts to him. Daddy gropes your tits while pressing his erection into your ass. “Can I show them what I’m doing to you, doll? There is an entertainment room for people not finding anyone tonight.”

“A wank room,” you giggle as daddy slaps your cheek. “Ouch, daddy. Next time do it harder.”

“Don’t be a brat and answer my question,” his hand wraps around your throat and you find yourself upright, your back pressed to his chest. Just now you realize there are cameras all over the room, filming you in any position if you agree. “Doll, I need to hear it.” He pants in your ear, ready to have his way with you.

“They will watch us fuck?” you shiver as his free hand grabs his phone from the bed. “All of them.”

“Only the ones staying without a partner tonight,” he whispers in your ear, nipping at your earlobe. “They are not allowed to take a copy or tell anyone about it. Whatever we are doing here tonight will stay within this room. So—”

“Yes,” daddy tilts his hips to press his erection between your legs, rubbing his length up and down your folds to coat himself in your slick. “I want them to watch you ruin my pussy, daddy.”

“Good,” he unlocks his phone to activate the live stream. “Ladies and gentlemen, you are invited to watch me and my doll tonight. Remember the rules. We do not talk about what happens at our little club, so enjoy and don’t make the owner mad.”

Daddy drops the phone on the bed to grip your hip tightly. He pokes your entrance, smirking as you try to push back onto him. “Daddy—”

“Look at my good girl,” he coos before slowly inching his way inside your body. “Fuck, she’s so tight and warm.” Daddy praises, moaning audibly to tell everyone watching you that he never enjoyed a cunt as much as yours. “I’m gonna ruin her pussy and make her scream my name.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, smiling into the camera as he wraps his arms around your body. “Fuck, he’s so big and thick inside my little pussy. Ouch, it almost hurts, daddy.”

“Just take it,” daddy starts to move his hips at a slow pace, testing the waters to find out if you are ready for more. “Do you want me to fuck you like a slut.”

“Please….yes…all green,” you end up face-first in the cushions. He holds you down by your shoulders, whispering if you are still green. “YES! FUCKING YES.”

“Hold tight, doll,” his hands shoot toward your hips, gripping your flesh tightly as he starts to move faster. You can’t see the people in the room watching you, but the room fills with more and more people as your screams echo through the whole mansion. 

You don’t know loudspeakers are sending your moans and pleas straight to every room to make sure they know daddy fucks you well. “Harder, daddy.”

“Did you hear,” he slides almost all the way out, making you whine at the loss of his dick. “Watch me fucking ruin her during her first party. She’s all mine.” You cry out as he slams back inside. “Yeah, that’s my cunt from now on.”

You’ve got no clue how he does it, but daddy has you on the edge only a few thrusts later. Maybe it’s the way he drives into you, or his dirty talk. He is talking about your cunt, your body and you like you mean nothing to him and it’s freeing in a way.

There is no shame. Not even when you come all over him, moaning daddy while people watch you get railed by a stranger. “I’m gonna cum in her, cream her sweet cunt, and show you how good she takes it.”

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you tighten around his thick length, whimpering as you can’t hold back the whorish noises leaving your throat. 

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh, and the slicked sound of your cunt sucking his cock in fill your senses and you lose all control over your tongue.

“Fuck me harder, ruin me. I need to feel your cum drip out of my cunt. Next time you can fuck my ass too. I want to choke on your cock,” you can hear people cheer at your words, and then applause as you cum again, and daddy fills your abused cunt with his cum.

“Fucking perfect,” he slips out of you much too soon, and spreads your thighs apart, groaning as his cum drips out of your still pulsing cunt. “Look at her. She was such a good girl.”

“Fuck,” you fall onto the bed, spend and exhausted but sated. “Daddy fucked me so good, guys. He can do it forever…”

“End of the show,” you can hear him fight with the covers to find his phone. “Remember. No one talks about what you saw. No video or picture leaves this mansion. If I find one picture or clip on the internet, you won’t like what happens.” He deactivates the cameras and turns his attention back toward you.

“Daddy—” he laughs as you mumble his “name”.

“I’m going to run a warm bath for you now, doll. Okay. I’ll be back in a minute and take care of you. You’re safe with me,” he pecks your cheek and runs his hand over your back. “You did so well, doll. I’m proud of you. I never had such a good partner. Did you hear them cheer? They never did this before.”

“Thank you, daddy…” you’re not alone in the room for long. Only a few moments later you get picked up in bridal style and carried out of the room. He will clean your body and rub the sorness out of your muscles before carrying you back into the bedroom.

You will fuck daddy two more times that night before the both of you leave the mansion. You promise each other to do it again…and you do…

“Did you see daddy?” you check on your phone, frowning as your usual partner didn’t show up for the third time. You met up with daddy for almost a year at your secret little club. Now you came here only to find no sign of him again. “My app can’t link with him anymore.”

“You mean the guy you always meet here, at the bar?” the bartender finally looks at you. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen him. He’s not in the system any longer. This means one out of two things.”

“What do you mean?” you lick your dry lips, hoping to get to know why daddy never showed lately.

“He can’t come here. Maybe he’s sick, had an accident, or work is hell, or,” she gives you a sympathetic smile, “he found someone out there and doesn’t want to come back.”

“Oh—OH,” letting her words sink in you feel like daddy betrayed you. You never met up with another man, not even at the mansion, nor did he fuck someone else. Well, at least not at the mansion. “I see. I guess I got too attached to him.”

“Happens sometimes, darling,” the bartender offers. “Some people even got married after they met here. Others, well…they left with a broken heart.”

“Thank you,” you slide off the barstool, giving the bartender a huge tip and a sad smile. “If he ever comes around again, tell him I was looking for him.”

“Sweetie, you shouldn’t hang your heart on him,” she tries to tell you it’s not the first time your secret lover broke some poor girl’s heart. Daddy is the kind of man not settling down. But she can’t tell you so, or she’ll lose her job… 

“Did you even listen?” your friend asks and you look up from the menu. “Two hot guys are watching us. The guy with the shaggy hair is mine, though.”

“I’m not interested,” not even glancing at the two men you drop your eyes to the menu again. “Sheesh, don’t they have food I like.”

“What’s wrong with you lately? You used to be laid-back and relaxed. And now you are always so—” your friend sighs as you slam the menu you shut. 

“What? I’m just a little tense lately is all,” you quip. “There is nothing wrong with not wanting to sing love songs or dance around the kitchen all the time. I’m just not in the mood.”

“It’s been three months now,” she bites back as the guys she was talking about make their way toward your table. “Get laid or buy a new dildo.”

“Ladies, hey,” the shorter guy flashes you a smile. “We don’t want to disturb you, but we’d like to invite you for a drink.”

“Not interested,” your friend sighs deeply as you refuse to even look at the guys for a second time.

Yes, they are gorgeous, but daddy is still in the back of your mind. He’s haunting you in your dreams and you hate to admit it, you go back to the mansion every week to find out if he came back.

He never did, though…

“Sweetheart, we didn’t want to offend you,” you give the man a cracked smile. “Sorry for interrupting your conversation.”

“I’m kinda fresh out of a relationship or not,” your friend rolls her eyes at your words. “I mean…no…I don’t even know if anyone would call it that. It’s just…I still miss him, and I can’t have a drink with you. It’s not you, it’s me.” You hurriedly get up from your chair to flee out of the restaurant, choking out a sob on your way.

You’ve got no clue what’s wrong with you. You and daddy only had sex. He didn’t even give you his real name and now you are choking on tears only as a handsome guy offered a drink to you.

“Fuck, no. What’s wrong with me,” you cry. “I should just…” you press one hand to your heart. “It was only sex. Just forget about him…”

“No sight of him,” it’s another week later that you ask around the mansion if anyone saw your lover. “Please, does anyone know if he came back?”

“Girl, just give up and look for another dick,” one of the newer members chuckles, pointing at his crotch. “I can show you heaven.”

“No, thanks,” you turn to leave, sighing deeply. “I guess he’s gone for good…” leaving the mansion in a hurry you take deep breaths. “It’s time to delete the fucking app, Y/N. Stop acting as if you and that stranger were in love or shit.”

Two minutes later you sit in your car, thumb pressing delete to get rid of the app.

“Done,” you whisper, feeling your heart shatter all over again. It wasn’t sex only to you, that much you know now. “Goodbye, daddy. I hope you are living your best life, wherever you are…”

“Coming,” you groan as you slowly get up from your sofa. It’s Saturday evening and you planned on spending it watching bad porn and using your memories of daddy to get off. It’s been months since you touched yourself and it’s time to move on. “I hope it’s important. I wanted to masturb—”

“Hello doll,” daddy lazily leans in your doorframe, holding his phone in his hand. “You deleted the app. You’ve been a bad girl.”

“What? I—” he chuckles while waltzing into your apartment. “You didn’t come back. Why would I keep the app? I was there, not two days ago. No one saw you again.”

“I had something to take care of,” you huff while watching him shrug his coat down his shoulders and tossing it onto your sofa. “I came tonight, and you weren’t there. The bartender told me you’ve missed your daddy.”

“You never came back,” wiping your wet eyes you try to make him see that he can’t come around and demand things from you after he abandoned you for months. “It’s been months.”

“Still, you didn’t fuck anyone else,” he muses, large hand cupping your cheek now. “Do you know why, doll?”

“Enlighten me,” you grumble as he dares to cradle your face with both hands. “Maybe I wasn’t in the mood to fuck.”

“Oh, baby doll, you were in the mood to get fucked,” he greedily claims your lips, tongue snaking with yours. He just kisses you for a brief moment before he looks you deep in the eyes, “but only by your daddy. You only want him, right?”

“I’ve missed you,” something flashes in his eyes. There is something you haven’t seen before. “Maybe you should go now. I had plans and…”

“It was a test, doll,” he looks down at you. “I started too many relationships after I had great sex with a woman. I liked them, maybe even loved them but it never ended well. After a month or so, they lost interest. But you,” he laughs now, before kissing you again. “Oh doll, you’ve missed me so much you even rejected my handsome sons.”

“Your sons?”

“You know, most of the girls I met up with had to pass the last test,” he pecks your temple now, lips lingering on your skin. “I would introduce them to my sons. No one ever resisted my sons, doll. Every single woman wanted to fuck them. Sometimes even both.”

“I-I don’t understand a single word,” you push against his shoulders. “What are you talking about? I don’t know your sons, or you or anything anymore.”

“Doll,” he cups the back of your neck this time. “I wanted to know if you are open to a relationship with me. Not some arrangement to meet up and fuck. I want you to share my life with me.”

“I—what?” frowning deeply you look up at him. “I don’t even know your name, idiot! How shall I spend the rest of my life with you? I can’t call you daddy all the time.”

“Baby doll,” he softly pecks your lips. “I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you that very first night. My name is John Eric Winchester and if you let me, I’ll love you for the rest of my life…”

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