#i liked banjo when he first showed

[mishy-mashy]

Anyway I wrote about this in my fanfic notes but I think this is credible

En. He's a One For All user, young, and dies from being cut in half by All For One. He cries, but manages to pass on One For All to Nana with a smile, and hides Nana with his Quirk so she can escape.

So En. Sixth. This cutie patootie guy right here

He's been viewed as cool and collected and I'm gonna call a bit of bullshit on that.

First: he is young. He doesn't have the fullest emotional maturity (brain caps out in the mid-20s), and even if he did, he can still freak out. But that's not what I wanna talk about with him

It's more the time period in which he was born and grew up.

Kudo and Bruce, at the least, die 18 years before En receives One For All. En was born during All For One's rule, and grew up in a society struggling to cope with the new Abilities on top of Japan's crumble.

En was born at an anxious time, and grew up in the flames of it as society tried collecting itself. Since he was born while people were just barely adjusting to Abilities, and were flighty and shellshocked from the events, En was the same: used to Abilities, but quick to jump and flee. He was raised in a world like that, and thus was like the others of his time.

Look at En at his death. His Smokescreen is active. He died with his back turned. He was running away and using his Smokescreen as cover.

He later asks, fearful and stressed, why Midoriya/Ninth doesn't just run away. And Tomura calls him out on this. We'll go back to this later.

En is a product of the time he grew up—a time of trying to pick themselves up in the midst of civil war, shifting humanity, where no one trusted anyone and everyone ran to save themselves.

His Quirk is literally Smokescreen. There's no application to it beyond making smoke from the user's body to hide in. It obscures others' visions.

His Quirk hides him from others. That's its main function. He isn't as brave as the others. He's a coward when pushed into a corner. Nana describes his last smile in ch. 92 as this:

But All Might, who does this smile, describes it in ch. 1 as—

—tricking the fear inside of him. En is a combination of both; he smiled to reassure Nana, but was no doubt terrified, as he died running and got cut in half.

I imagine the reason En was the first One For All user shown passing off the Quirk with his hair was because he was too afraid to reach down and feel himself cut in half. He could've gotten the blood from there, but the cognitive dissonance alone of feeling air where your lower-half should be is terrifying as is.

By hiding her in his Smokescreen and giving his hair, En let Nana run away too, to safeguard herself and the Quirk. En ran, he made Nana run, and later on, he wants Midoriya/Ninth to run, even knowing there's no next user or chance to beat All For One/Tomura.

En knows All For One is powerful. He's scary. He killed Banjo-senpai, and Shinomori-san hid from him until he died of "old age". Everything is mustered in Midoriya/Ninth, but even then, En wants to run away because they realize they can be stolen and really die.

Now, going back a bit to [His Quirk is literally Smokescreen], they would've started calling Meta Abilities Quirks around the time En is growing up. All Might is alive somewhere when Nana receives One For All, and Meta Ability is the first term for Quirks.

Since Quirks are reflective of personality, and En was born in the coming down of the peak of fear that's trying to create some semblance of normalcy, it makes sense that, with his Smokescreen, he encourages Midoriya/Ninth to run. Because he did the same thing.

That's how he grew up, that's what he knows, it's the first thing he thought of when he realized they really were in danger. They were facing death in the eye.

Tomura/AFO even calls him out for this. Look at En's face when he's called out; he's scared of him. En is scared of just catching his attention.

The OFA vestiges know they can see into each others' realms. They wouldn't be surprised by this. They look into AFO's, they know AFO can do the same vice-versa.

Tomura is basically saying he's about to catch all the vestiges (rats) by their tails to make sure no one gets away this time.

Even if En was a vigilante or Pro Hero when he was alive (he's Banjo's kouhai, and Banjo was one of those), he has a faint heart when he feels cornered and running is an option, no matter how bad.

En acts calm and rational, and entered into the Vigilante/Pro Hero scene, but he is terrified when it comes down to it.

Like Kudo and Bruce with the Resistance, Shinomori with society's state then, and Banjo stepping up when Japan was "a lawless land", En is a product of the era he grew up; trying to find stability in a lawless land, where it was everyone for themselves.

[lost-in-fandoms]

Winter Warmers Day 31: NYE countdown. Maxiel. About 1.5k words.

"Max, Maxy, Maximum, Maximus Prime!"

Max turns away from his conversation with Alex just in time to catch Daniel around the waist as he stumbles into him, the drink in his cup sloshing over his wrist.

"Hello, Daniel," Max says, unable to stop himself from smiling, readjusting his grip so that he can hold Daniel more comfortably.

From the corner of his eye he catches Alex moving away, probably deciding that their conversation is over now that Daniel has Max's attention. Which is a very fair assumption, given that in all the years they've been friends, Max has always dropped anyone and anything to focus on Daniel.

Some might call it pathetic, to still be in love with his best friend after so long, but Max doesn't really care about what other people think. He just cares about Daniel's warm weight in his arms, and the fact that when all the people at this party will have left their house, Daniel will still be there, probably moving stuff around to pretend he's helping with the clean up.

"Are you having fun, Daniel?" he asks, trying to maneuver them towards the kitchen, both to clean up Daniel's wrist before he complains about the stickiness and to not feel like every single person is staring at them.

Well, every single person other than Charles and Carlos, who seem to be trying to get acquainted with each other's tonsils.

"Yes," Daniel answers, letting himself be dragged away, stumbling unhelpfully on his own feet.

Once they're in the kitchen, occupied only by Logan and Oscar, heads bent over a phone, a half empty bottle of wine next to them, Max hoists Daniel on the counter, right next to the sink, swiping away a few empty paper plates.

"Stay still, please," he tells Daniel, grateful he doesn't have to shout as much over the music anymore. They should probably start lowering that actually, if they don't want the cops called on them again, but it's new year's eve, for sure old Meredith could let it slide this once.

He plucks Daniel's cup from his hand, something of not clear nature inside it, and wets a couple paper towels, gently wiping at his wrist and hand.

"Maxy," Daniel says, dropping his head forward to rest it on Max's shoulder. He's making Max's job harder like this, but Max is not going to complain. He just hums, showing Daniel he's listening.

"I have decided on my resolutions list," Daniel tells him, sounding slightly more sober than he did before.

Max drops the paper towels and grabs an empty cup, filling it with water from the sink and handing it to Daniel, coaxing him to raise his head to drink it.

Daniel had been talking about his resolutions list for more than a week. Max is not sure why he's so set on having new year's resolutions, since in the past eight years he's known him not once Daniel has been the kind of person who follows a plan, but he's been listening anyway every time he brought the topic up.

Max doesn't understand why he's having so much trouble creating the list either. Sure, Daniel does have his moments of perfectionism, but seeing him actually get stressed about this had been puzzling.

"Yeah? Can I know it?" he asks, dropping the now empty cup when Daniel hands it to him before opening his arms, letting Daniel comfortably slump into him again.

Somewhere on his left, Logan and Oscar leave the kitchen, closing the door behind them, cutting off a little more of the noises of the party, making Max feel like he's in his private Daniel bubble for the first time this evening.

He's not ashamed of saying that he's a bit possessive, greedy about having his fair share of Daniel's time, but he's gotten better with the years. The last time Daniel had been in a relationship, Max hadn't even tried to scare them off, but they had gone anyway after a couple of months, leaving a very mopey Daniel behind. Max had keyed their car.

"First thing, I want to learn how to play the banjo," Daniel says, way too loud way too close to Max's ear.

It makes Max smile anyway, knowing this point will be abandoned in a few months at most, just like every other instrument Daniel had tried to learn, getting bored with each one of them.

"Good start," he encourages anyway, because he's nothing but disgustingly soft when it comes to Daniel, even worse when he's tipsy like tonight.

He gets rewarded by Daniel pulling back to beam at him, before going back to Max's shoulder.

Sometimes holding himself back from kissing him takes all of Max's strength.

"Then, I want to improve my handwriting."

Yep, just as Max had thought. Another task that will be abandoned, like all the other times Daniel had tried before.

"I can read your handwriting," Max tells him, because it's true. No matter the kind of drunken chicken scratch he finds on the grocery list, Max has learned to interpret it all. It's not that hard really, when you manage to recognise the subtle differences between the squiggles. Part of the game is actually learning what is supposed to be a word and what is a doodle.

"You can, because you're great," Daniel mumbles against his shirt, as Max tries to pretend he can't feel himself blushing, "but I am so tired of people complaining about it."

"People should just learn how to read," Max tells him, unhappy with someone making Daniel feel like he should change. Which is very stupid, because Daniel is perfect, chicken scratches included.

It makes Daniel laugh, waist moving under Max's hands, his wet bottom lip dragging against the exposed part of Max's shoulder.

"Do you have any more?" he rushes to ask, trying to distract himself from the feeling of it.

In the other room, the music gets lowered, and for a second Max thinks it's the cops again, until he hears someone scream two minutes!

They should probably rejoin their friends, celebrate midnight with them, but Max is quite comfortable where he is, and he doesn't want to see Daniel grab someone to kiss, even if just to laugh about it afterwards.

He had long learned his lesson, after one year he had tried to angle himself in Daniel's line of view, just for him to reach around him and grab Charles instead. Max had gotten way too drunk that night.

"One more," Daniel says, voice even lower now that the music is off and they're so close. He sounds more hesitant suddenly, nervous fingers fidgeting with the hem of Max's shirt.

"Do you want to tell me?" Max asks, just to be sure. Sometimes Daniel needs a little push before he opens up, but it's always a very thin line between getting an answer and being shut out with a joke instead. This time Daniel nods.

"I want to suck your dick."

Max chokes on his spit, trying to push back Daniel to be able to see his face, feeling his eyes go wide.

It wouldn't be the first time they joke about it, but Daniel doesn't sound like he's joking, and if this is a prank Max is going to get very drunk again and probably go cry in the bathroom, but...

But when he manages to push Daniel's head up, he's blushing and he's looking at Max from underneath his lashes, fear and determination mixing on his face.

"You mean it?" Max forces himself to ask, sounding breathless. His heart is beating too fast, so loud he's sure Daniel can hear it too.

Daniel nods, one corner of his mouth turning up in a shadow of his usual smile.

"My last resolution is to stop lying to myself about my feelings for you," he says.

It echoes around his brain, bouncing around and amplifying: feelings for you feelings for you feelings for you feelings for you.

In the other room someone starts the countdown, and Max reaches forward, cupping Daniel's jaw with his hands.

"Are you gonna buy me dinner first?" he asks, just to see Daniel smile properly.

"Can I do it next year?"

Max rolls his eyes, but he still chuckles, weak for Daniel always, even when it's his bad jokes.

Three, two, one...

On the other side of the door sound explodes, their friends cheering and screaming, but Max barely hears it as he presses his lips against Daniel's.

(George screams when he opens the door to come grab the champagne chilling in the fridge and finds them making out against the counter, Max's thigh between Daniel's. The new wave of cheers that follows it is so loud Max starts mentally preparing his apologies for old Meredith and the cops, even as he copies Daniel in flipping them all off.)

[carebooks]

i’m sure someone talked about this when jatp first came out but i just rewatched it in years. (not because i forgot about it, not because i didn’t like it, but because it hurt so much to know this show wasn’t getting renewed and i had to avoid it in order to protect myself)

something i just love about the show is how they never bash on any other types of music. and each character has more than one genre of music to like.

yes, Sunset Curve was a rock band and Julie and the Phantoms are more rock indie/alternative rock band.

but that doesn’t stop Reggie from liking country music, “I shred on the banjo,” and Jeremy Shada later on actually writing and performing “Home Is Where My Horse Is” (which I recommend heavily).

that doesn’t stop Alex from getting into Dirty Candi’s bubblegum pop music and dancing alongside Carrie on stage, (and how hard it must be for Carrie, who’s father is a rock musician, and how his fans must hate that his daughter is a fem bubblegum pop musician)

that doesn’t stop Luke from absolutely going insane over Caleb’s first performance, “The Other Side of Hollywood” with it’s 20’s era vibe and Broadway level intensity. (he was also into more classic rock as shown when he tried playing a song that Bobby/Trevor stole for Julie) (and lets not forget that he can also make the most emotional ballad of alternative rock)

and that doesn’t stop Julie from alternating between piano, rock music, pop verses, love ballads, and indie rock. and she and Flynn never once talk badly about Carrie’s music genre.

everyone can have more than one type of music they’re interested in or just show appreciation for instead of bashing it or disregarding it and i love that this show did this.

[wordingg]

Proud Parents

Dead Boy Ween Day 5, prompt: family

Summary: Crystal is insistent that she doesn't need the dead boys to attend her graduation ceremony. But, Charles and Edwin would never let Crystal go alone.

AN: I got like halfway through this one and realized that schools in the UK probably don't have graduation ceremonies the same way American schools. They might not even have graduation ceremonies at all. BUT I HAVEN'T MISSED A DAY YET AND IM NOT GONNA START NOW SO YOU'RE JUST GONNA HAVE TO SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF. okay thanks.

“You guys can’t come to my graduation, okay?” Crystal said firmly.

It was a little hard to take her seriously when she was standing in a veritable ocean of clothes and shaking what looked like a very fancy sunhat at them, but her expression was very serious.

“My parents are going to be there and I don’t want any weird ghost shit going on, okay?” Crystal added. She threw them an exasperated look when both boys just stared at her with folded arms.

“They said they’re going to be there?” Charles asked with a raised eyebrow.

“They gave a very firm maybe, which is practically a yes for them,” Crystal snapped back.

Charles frowned at that, but Edwin spoke over whatever he was planning to say.

“Of course, if you don’t want us to attend your graduation ceremony, we will respect your wishes,” Edwin said benevolently.

“Thank you, Edwin,” Crystal said, with a pointed look at Charles.

“You’re quite welcome, Crystal,” Edwin said with a polite nod.

Crystal disappeared back into her walk in closet to continue to dig for something good enough to wear under her graduation gown. Charles turned to Edwin with a confused frown.

“There’s no way her parents are going to show up for graduation, is there?” he asked sincerely.

“Not a chance,” Edwin said, still watching the closet door. “I checked their calendar and they’ve already booked two interviews and something called an ‘experimental banjo sesh’ for the same time as the ceremony.”

“God, what arseholes,” Charles muttered. “Crystal deserves better.”

“Of course she does,” Edwin said with an arched brow. “That is why we will be better for her.”

Charles’ mouth stretched into a manic grin and Edwin’s own mouth twitched at the edges with infectious glee.

---

The day of her graduation, Crystal was sweating with nerves. She had opted to finish her degree online when her attempts to make up with many of the people in her class that she had wronged had gone badly, to say the least. It was the first time in months that she was in the same room with them. It was a big gymnasium, but it was hard not to notice all the venomous looks pointed her way from almost every corner.

Crystal wiped her palms on the fabric of her gown, but the artificial fabric did nothing to wick the moisture away from her skin. She wanted to touch her cap to make sure it was sitting straight, but was worried about knocking her elaborate hairstyle down. She had gotten up early to arrange her curls into an elegant bun at the nape of her neck. It had been a bigger challenge than she expected and as a result her hair was mostly held together by two dozen bobby pins and sheer determination.

Crystal’s parents had already been gone by the time she was ready to leave for the ceremony, but she tried not to let that get her down. She had just talked to them the night before and they had confirmed their definite maybe for her graduation. She just had to have faith. They probably were picking up flowers or a cake or something. They knew Crystal was very self sufficient and could call her own cab to take her to the school.

Finally it was time to line up and walk out onto the field. Luckily, Crystal ended up in line between two boys that she didn’t recognize and who didn’t seem all that interested in her. They walked out of the gymnasium and into the bright spring day outside. Crystal was briefly blinded, but as soon as her eyes cleared she looked out into the crowd for her parents.

The field outside the gym was absolutely packed with people. There were rows and rows of folding chairs set up for the students graduating. The line steadily filled the rows in, directed by teachers in suits and skirts. Around the folding chairs were metal bleachers packed with adults and other kids alike, everyone snapping photos and waving and shouting things as the students filing into the chairs occasionally picked someone out of the crowd and waved back.

She didn’t see her parents as she walked out, but it was a madhouse. Probably they were there and she just didn’t see them. That was fine. Crystal turned around during a speech started to try and look again and got hissed at by one of the teachers, so she turned back around and pretended to pay attention.

The speeches washed over her like so much noise. She couldn’t have recalled anything that was said even if her life depended on it. Her mind was on the crowd at her back and her parents, the anxiety of not knowing crawling up her throat and threatening to choke her.

Then, finally, they started calling names and it was time to walk across the stage and claim her diploma. The school had considered ‘Von Hoverkraft’ to be her last name, so she had to wait until almost every other kid had gone before she could stand up and walk across the small pop up stage to shake the hand of a sweaty middle aged man she didn’t recognize and take her diploma.

As she did so, a camera flashed from the crowd, loud and bright and briefly blinding her. Crystal felt tears pricking her eyes and it wasn’t just from the bright flash. Someone was taking her picture and she couldn’t help but hope it was her dad, memorializing her finally finishing high school, finally becoming an adult.

Her smile turning sincere for the first time that day, Crystal walked to the other side of the stage and back to her seat feeling breathless. They were here somewhere in the crowd. They had come. They had shown up for her.

A few more kids went up to get their diploma and there was one last short speech. Everyone was itching for the ceremony to be over, so the speech didn’t last for very long. Soon, the ceremony was over and the two crowds (students and families) rushed toward each other, students merging into the bleachers while parents and siblings ran into the lines of folding chairs.

Crystal stood up, but then she froze. She was short in her sensible flats and couldn’t see over the heads of the crowd to find her parents. She started to move toward the bleachers, but it was a wild press of people and she felt a surge of panic that she wouldn’t be able to find them in time, that the crowds would deter them and her parents would leave without her seeing them.

Halfway to the bleachers, Crystal felt a man’s hand on her upper arm, pulling her to a stop. Crystal whipped around, not sure if she should be ecstatic or vicious, and looked into a familiar face. Familiar, but not the one she was hoping for.

An older man, maybe in his fifties, with red hair almost completely turned white and distinguished rimless glasses was smiling down at her. It was Charles in his living person disguise.

“Crystal, this way!” he said over the low roar of the crowd, guiding her away from the bleachers and through them toward the parking lot.

Briefly, Crystal felt irritated. She had told them not to come. But, she couldn’t hold onto her frustration for very long. She was scared and upset and hopeful by equal measures and Charles’ presence was a comforting. She eventually shook his hand off her arm so that she could instead grab his hand in hers and he smiled down at her again.

Charles led her out of the crowd and around to the back of the metal bleachers, where Crystal saw a woman in big acrylic frames wearing a little maroon beret over blonde hair peppered with white. Edwin.

“I told you guys I didn’t want you here,” Crystal muttered. “I have to get back. My parents might leave if they can’t find me.”

Charles and Edwin exchanged a speaking look and Crystal’s stomach dropped.

“We weren’t going to come,” Charles started to say. Crystal realized suddenly that he was wearing a big old fashioned camera around his neck by a strap. She swallowed around a lump in her throat.

“But, we also weren’t about to leave you here alone if they didn’t come,” Edwin said quickly.

Crystal felt her eyes filling with tears and firmly told herself not to blink. If she blinked, they would fall and if they started to fall, they might never stop.

She looked at Edwin. Edwin would tell her the truth, even if it hurt. She could trust him to do that for her.

“I’m sorry, Crystal,” he said quietly. “I followed them all morning. We only came once we were sure they were not going to make it to your graduation ceremony.”

It didn’t matter that Crystal hadn’t blinked, the tears began to fall anyway. She dashed them away viciously but they just kept falling.

“God, you must think I’m so naive,” she laughed. “You must have wanted so bad to tell me how stupid I was being. So, go ahead. Say it,” she glared at Edwin, but he only stared evenly back. “Say I was stupid for believing in them! You would be right!” she cried.

“Crystal Palace, you are the farthest thing from stupid,” Edwin said, like it was the most factual thing in the world.

“You’re a good daughter,” Charles said gently, “and you love your parents. That’s not a fault, Crystal. It’s admirable that you keep trying.”

The tears were coming faster now and Crystal gave up on trying to preserve her mascara and eyeliner and instead rubbed at her eyes, probably smearing black makeup everywhere.

“Eds! The flowers!” Charles whispered while Crystal tried desperately to get her tears under control.

She heard rustling and then when she opened her eyes it was to a huge bouquet of lilies, big pink ones with little brown spots exploding out from yellow centers, filled in all around with delicate baby’s breath.

“You got me flowers?” Crystal wobbled, fresh tears threatening to fall.

“And a balloon, but I sort of forgot those things float and it got away from me,” Charles said with a hangdog expression.

Edwin sighed at the mention of the balloon, but shook it off quickly. He stepped in to run his thumbs delicately under Crystal’s eyes, clearing away the smudged makeup along with a few stray tears.

“And, we will be taking you to that awful raw fish buffet that you like,” Edwin said as he cleaned up her makeup here and there.

“It’s called sushi, I know you know that. And, I don’t think they’ll let you come in if you aren’t going to eat anything,” Crystal sniffed.

“I dare say you will eat enough raw fish for the rest of us,” Edwin said, dry as the Sahara desert.

“And, we’ll tell everyone within hearing distance how proud we are of our amazing daughter who just graduated from high school!” Charles added with a grin.

“Yes, she’s quite amazing,” Edwin said, stepping back and judging Crystal’s makeup good enough so long as she didn’t start crying again. “Neither of us ever finished high school. She’s the first in our family to do so.”

“We’re proud parents, we are,” Charles said, elbowing Edwin with a grin that earned him an eye roll and a reluctant smile.

“You guys…” Crystal trailed off, sniffing. She clutched the flowers closer to her chest, the paper crinkling against her graduation gown. Golden pollen smeared against the cheap polyester and stuck to it, but she couldn’t possibly bring herself to care at the moment.

“Please, Crystal, no more tears. I just fixed your mascara,” Edwin complained, stepping in again to fan at her face with his hands like maybe he could dry the tears before they fell.

Crystal hiccuped around a sound that might have been a sob or a laugh, even she wasn’t sure. She threw her arms around both of their necks, drawing Charles and Edwin into a group hug. The bracketed her sides and the flowers crinkled against their backs. She felt their arms settle around her waist, their heads tilted against her own.

“Thanks, you guys,” she said thickly.

“Of course, Crystal,” Edwin whispered back.

“Anytime,” Charles agreed.

[wizardfrog69]

May I request raising a child with Fyodor? I feel like he would lowkey be a scary strict parent but would also spoil them a lot lmao. He gives the vibes of a parent that would ask his 7 year old son to read Crime and Punishment and to write a 3 page essay if they want something.

Thanks for the request!

'•.¸♡ Raising a child together (Fyodor) ♡¸.•'

Fyodor x reader (parents)

Fluff

Masterlist

Enjoy!

Raising a child with him is difficult, to say the least. He firmly believes that children should be punished as a consequence of their actions. The punishments he would suggest may be too cruel for the situation or child, so you never let him punish the children.

Your child will learn to play some sort of instrument like a piano or some sort of string instrument, one that is featured in classical music, so no electric guitar or banjo (unfortunately).

They will end up in therapy, Fyodor is such a great father.

Fyodor is very strict about homework and tests, he expects 90% or higher, it's safe to say you are definitely the favourite parent.

Reading and poetry is a big thing for him and so his offspring has like 20 poems, mostly Russian poems, memorised.

Classical music is what they would listen to the most due to Fyodor but they are allowed to express themselves via music, art, clothing (as long as it is appropriate, for all genders).

He is overprotective, yet he does not wish to be overbearing so it comes off as him just locking himself in his room and interacting with his child on occasion to fulfil their natural need for attention and to reinforce the house rules, and to spend time with you of course.

On special occasions, or when Fyodor wants attention from his family but doesn't want to show it in fear of acting weak, he would take you on a fun night out, taking the kids to the playground or somewhere fun, going to a restaurant to eat something, and so he can spoil you a bit, ending the night with a walk in the park while the child(ren) run around.

Some of his rules include: no phone, the only thing they can watch is TV and w someone else, not on their own, home by 20:00, in bed by 22:00, sleepovers only once they turn 13 and he needs to know the parents, nothing too immodest, no going to his study.

When you had your first baby, Fyodor was really attached to it. It was probably the most you've seen him smile ever. Finding him taking a nap with the baby was a rare sight, but a sight you cherished with all your heart.

༺♡༻ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 ⋆ 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 ༺♡༻

Have a wonderful day/night and don't forget to do something you love and drink plenty of water!:)

-with love, Az

[coffee-master]

IDEAS FOR FICS PART 1 [FIDDLESTAN]

-> #Free ideas to use (to find more similar things for fics)

Fiddlestan idea, where Stanley and Fiddleford work together to fix the and bring Stanford back.

During this time they come closer to each other and while feeling like mess they both help each other fix some things.

They both are basically a walking mess with Trauma.

Stanley helps Fiddleford during his panic attacks and calms him down when needed. Stan gives him attention and always listenes about his problems (the divorce and difficul situation with his son. Stanley also helps Fids with quiting his addiction (the memorygun).

Fiddleford made Stan aware that he isn't a worse copy of Stanford. He tells him that he is loved and once Stan opens up to him. Fidds explains how fucked up Stan's whole situation was. Moreover he shows affection to such a touch-starved person that Stanley was at that moment.

Stan and Fiddleford get closer to each other during their bonding time, until they fall for each other and form a relationship.

[They smoke together, go out and Fidds even started teaching Stan playing banjo (with difficulties but still)]

For years they try to open the portal once again, but without the other journals this seems almost impossible. [Just a reminder that the whole portal thing was Bill's idea and he gave Stanford the project. In conclution very HARD TO DO]

And then years later Dipper and Mabel show up..!

Fiddleford and Stanley are in relationship for 30 years. They basically are the "old married couple" But historians will say that they are just 'roommates'.

Mabel basically can smell the romance from distance, while Dipper is ignorant/unaware until someone pointed out this to him.

Stanley & Fidds even have matching earings!

[Also Fidds likes to call Stan Darlin', Hun and Stan calls Fidds Cowboy eventually That's My Cowboy! When noone is around]

Fidds never went crazy or anything. He even repaired his relationship with son! Yes, he might have still got some brain damage from using the gun in the past. (So from time to time he can be forgetfull) But he is better now!

When Stanford comes back there is also a lot of mess. Ford punches Stan and Fidds is right behind him to help him. Stanford is mostly confused by everything that at first he doesn't even notice that Fiddleford and Stanley are in a relationship.(He's just as blind as Dipper)

There is some arguing and Fiddleford is pretty much pissed at Ford for being ungratefull.

Once he overheard Stanford "talk" to Stan that "at the end of this summer you give me back my identyti, my house and this all mystery shack is over"

And he confronted Ford immediately yelling at him that "the world doesn't go around him" And he had no idea how much sacrificed for him and how both of them suffered. (After that 'conversation' I think that Ford finally sensed that something was going on between Fidd and Stanley]

Shortly after Fidd "talked" with Ford, he immiediately went to Stanley, assuring him that everything is gonna be alright and they are both in this together. That he is NOT alone.

[I feel like everyone saw at least once that time of fiddlestan au in art or something BUT-]

LET'S FINALLY GET TO THE MAIN POINT!!!

In this au everything goes similar to the canon, so Weirdmagedon still happened. Everything happened in a similar way and in the end Stanley saved the town. (Pls no jokes)

Ford had to erase his memories, with the memory gun. The weapon that Fiddleford once created and almost ruined his life. And now it erased the mind of the man he loved.

Fidds after realised what happened he was devastated.

He was furious at Ford's action, even though it was the only way to save everyone.

He was heartbroken seeing the man he loves not recognising him. As if there was noone on the other side.

The guilt was eating him alive, knowing well that HE created the gun that took away his love of life.

And after learning that it was Stanley's plan to use the memory gun on himself and not Ford's.. Fiddleford was basically tearing up.

Seeing Stan's lack of reaction after waking up and seeing his 'loved ones' and not recognising them was heart-breaking. Stanley didn't seem to remember neither his nephews nor brother or even him.

When Stan looks at him. There is nothing.

It hurts to look at the man you love. You can't help, but see that he doesn't see you the same way or even recognise you. That there is nothing beside the lost gaze and lack of connection. No smiles, no love. Just confusion.

And even though the Stanley he once know was 'erased', Fiddleford takes a deep breath and with clear sadness in voice says:

"He was there for me when my mind was falling apart and now I'm gonna take care of him." And then hugs gently confused Stan.

I belive that it would take more time for them to bring Stan's memories back. (But that's up to you how you want it)

I imagine that there would be a lot more trouble with gaining back memory for Stan. Like maybe very slowly.

Their first attempts would be unsuccessfully. No improvement. Staley doesn't remmeber anything about his live. Fotos are blank for him. He even misstooks his photo with children, thinking that on the picture is Ford and not him.

"I'm sorry, I- I really don't remmeber any of this.." Stanley said, while holding the photo album.

Everyone would be devastated. Soos, Ford, twins and Fiddleford.

But suprisingly, Fiddleford would be the one who would 'seem' to be the calmest of all of them at least on the surface. He spends a lot of time with Stanley, not necessary trying to restor Stan's memory, but geniuently spend some pleasant time together.

But deeply inside Fidds is actually really strugling. Just instead of thinking about the pain, he tries to focus on helping Stanley. He had a first hand experience with memory issues and he doesn't want Stan to suffer the same.

He also tries make Stanley feel as comfortable as possible in the New situation, while trying to bond.

They drink coffee, they watch tv, they talk. Maybe not necessary about his past.. (Stanley feels pressured, every time someone tries to recall his memories without any results) So with Fidds, he feels more relaxed.

Stanley generally feels around Fiddleford most comfortable. (He doesn't feel any obligation) And he genuelly likes him and EVEN MORE he starts to like him to the point that he's questioning himself.

Stanley: I think, I might have a crush on Fidds..?

Mabel geniuently touched that even after loosing memories the true love still remained around around them, but also jealous due to the fact that he still doesn't recall her : ...

Mabel: He's literally your husband.

Stanley: He is?? I mean- But I don't even know him..?

[Sometimes someone needs to remind Stanley that he's married to Fidds. He forgets it often, since it sounds so unrealistic for him]

Also, when Stan starts 'crushing' on Fidds, Fiddleford is very aware of it.

He immiediately catches up on simple signals like

- Random nervousness

- Playing with hands

- Unnecesarry jokes at wrong time

Just the same behaviour as from 30 years ago, when Stanley started catching feelings for him. [It makes him happy to see this once again]

Fiddleford pretends that he doesn't know. He doesn't want Stan to freak out or something.

And it goes like this..

They spend some time. Twins still try to regain Stan's memory in any way possible. Ford feels helpless. And during this time they are rebuiling the mystery shack.. (because they need a place to sleep, am I right?)

Until one day..

Fiddleford was sitting outside, taking a break from repairing the shack. All of this still seamed unrealistic for him.

He was alone.

He needed to be alone.

He felt as everything was falling apart with him all together.. He just needed some time alone. If he was about to have a breakdown, he didn't want to anyone see it.

Not Ford, not kids and especially not Stanley.

He just needed to f̸̯̞̤̻̬̯̣͙͉̿̑̾͌ͅo̶̧̅r̵̫̹̟̱̖̺̝̐̾͌̄͋̈́͜͠ḡ̴̹̰̘̫͍͇̜͜ę̵̞̯̗̺̗͙̈́͑̀̓̓̆͠t̸̡̛̞̭̪͖̬̱̮͋́̋͝ chill a little-

Then as the man sighed, he saw in the corner of his eye his lying banjo. He hadn't played in a while.. It was his firt though.

So without overthinking, the man took his instrument and started playing some random nutes. After all music always calmed him down a little.

Before he could even notice, nutes turned into melody, into songs he once used to play often during this summer and not only..

It was like this until a familiar face arrived.

"Huh, I like this melody." Stanley said with a small smile, looking directly at his instrument.

Fiddleford looked at his partner, slightly confused and shocked by his arrival. Something made him stop playing, as he realised that what he was playing they both used to love.

They used to play it regulary.

So there was no suprise, that Fiddleford hoped that maybe just maybe would be some kind of recognision. Unfortunately as soon as he met Stan's clueless eyes, he knew the answer.

"Really?" But instead of shoving his dissapointment, Fidds just asked him kindly.

"It's nice." He said as he sat next to the man with a banjo. "Keep going." Stanley encouraged him and how was he supposed to say no?

So he played. Just to see more smile on his face. Just to act as if this was normal. As they used to do.

After a while he noticed, how the other man started staring at his instrument. Fidds saw the curiousity in his eyes, and how paid attention to his movement.

Then he paused to Stans shock.

"Wanna try?" He offered with a gentel smile.

"Try?" Stan sounded suprised. "Nah, I'm gonna break this little thing." He said unsurely. "These hands are pretty clumsy recently." He joked.

"Break it? Such nonsense." Fidd chuckled with a smile and placed the banjo in Stanleys hands. "The least could happen is for one of the string to break. Don't worry."

Despite his first protest in the end Stan looked at the instrument and took it in his hands gently.

Then the man ran his hand over the instrument and all the strings rang.

"Nice." He commented. "How do you start?" Stanley asked and it took Ford a second to realise what he was asking for.

"You start with this one." He answered shortly, pointing at one of the strings. "You know.. you won't be able to play the same song at first try, it takes-"

Fiddleford was interrupted, as Stan started playing. To his suprise it wasn't any kind of weird noises by pulling random strings. No, nothing like that.

It didn't even seem as his first try, when they were young and Fiddleford started teaching Stan playing on banjo.

It was the same melody he played just a second ago.

And it wasn't just a mare try.

He did it perfectly. Just as if he knew this song.

As if he knew how to play it.

As if he remembered it.

And it didn't seem as if he was putting in this any kind of effort.

Stanley just played.

And he seemed so happy and relaxed, until he finished and the realisation hit him hard.

"How.. how did you do this?" Fidds asked first.

"I.." Stan started just as confused as he was. "I don't know." He admited trufully. "My hands were just moving on its own." He tried to explain, but seemed just as lost as him. "I didn't- I didn't think what I was doing. It just happened." He finished, looking directly at Fiddleford very confused, as if looking for the answer.

Fidds confused as him, tried not to give himself unrealistic hopes.

When it came to Amnesia it rarely affected motor skills, according to the researches. Just like walking or ridding a bike. So that would explain this 'phenomen'.

He did it instinctively.

"I teached you this one." In the end Fidds decided to be trufully. "We played it lots of times, until you didn't need the sheet music."

"Oh." Stanley said clearly dissapointment.

For a moment Fiddleford was afraid, that mentioning the past would made Stan uncomfortable, or make silent.

But fortunatelly Stanley fast showed that it didn't bothered him this time.

"Was I a good student?" Stan asked instead with a smirk. "Seems pretty easy for me." Then he added with cockyness, which made Fidds only chuckle.

"The worst one." He couldn't help himself, but taste his patience a little.

"Watch it Cowboy." The man said with smirk, so full of himself as he played a few random, but melodic notes on banjo.

And just then-

"Wait- What did you just call me?" Fiddleford asked rapidly, hoping that he didn't overheard wrong.

Stan looked at him again, taking a pause, as if trying to recall what he said.

"A Cowboy." He said slowly, realising he didn't know why he choosed this kind of words.

"Stanley, I've never mentioned that I am a Cowboy, nor that I'm a fan of them.." Fidds said immiediately and once he saw the expression on his partner's face , he knew. "Stanley." He said so hopefully and full of love. "You.."

He wanted to say You remember

He wanted to reach him..

"I-" The man in fornt of him sounded so confused, but also so hopefull at the same time.

But then rapidly grabbed his head, with a hiss.

"I- think I'm gonna have a headache-" He added painfully.

At once Fiddleford moved to him, taking him gently by his back.

"Shh.. Take it slowly, dear." Fidds said gently to calm him down.

Even though inside he bursting with excitement Stan's healt was his piority number one.

And then Stanley started regaining his memories back!!!! :D

This idea is free to use. If you want you can write a fic about it or just do anything.

Hopefully you enjoyed this idea!!!

[More Fiddlestan ideas]: Part 2(in progress)

[MasterPost]

[blacktobackmesa]

SO I MADE A PROOF OF CONCEPT.

music used: kirby's epic yarn, mort garson's plantasia

voices: my beautiful self

Transcript:

GORDON

“Am I the asshole if I yelled at a clown?” Now I’m gonna pre-empt here. I’m gonna say it first, nobody else gets the satisfaction: What’s Gordon doing yelling at a mirror? Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha.

BUBBY

What-- Gordon, don’t be so hard on yourself!

TOMMY

We’re not gonna call you a clown, Mister Freeman. 

BENREY

Yeah, I like clowns. 

GORDON

Is “I like clowns” your way of saying I’m not a clown? Or are you just saying it? Just saying it to say it? [Beat.]

Benrey, do you not like me?

[Beat.]

BENREY

Clowns are cool, I don’t know what else to tell you. 

[SFX: The Banjo-Kazooie Jiggy Collection Jingle plays. This is Gordon’s stream donation alert.]

COOMER

Gordon, please tell us a story.

GORDON

So! “So I live in Brazil--”

[SFX: The Brazilian Football/soccer goal fanfare. An echoing voice shouts “BRASIL!” and is followed by upbeat music. The sound cuts off abruptly.]

GORDON

Thank you, Benrey. “I live in Brazil, and it’s a little common to have people in clown attire and makeup trying to sell you stuff at the subway entrance, and they can be a little annoying. They even started carrying a credit card machine so people can’t use the old excuse of ‘I don’t have any cash on me’.

DARNOLD

I love the wording of the singular credit card machine for all Brazilian clowns. 

GORDON

[rereading]

“Started carrying a--” I didn’t even notice that.

COOMER

They’re sharing!

BUBBY

“When I was your age, we only had ONE credit card reader, and we had to go all the way to São Paulo to borrow it for ONE customer!”

TOMMY

That must be why they hang out at the train station! 

BUBBY

Right! They have to travel!

GORDON

Come on, guys. Are you really gonna do this to someone who speaks English as their second language?

TOMMY

Oh no! We don’t want to make fun of them. We’re, we just like their words!

BENREY

English is hard. You gotta embrace when you say wrong shit. It’s like art.

COOMER

Gordon, we are creating derivative works from the words of the clown yeller. 

GORDON

Alright, fair enough. “I was walking to the subway that I usually go to. It was early for me, nine in the morning. I was going to work because my boss asked me to go early so the cleaning lady had someone there.”

BUBBY

Nine A.M. is EARLY work hours in Brazil? What the hell are we doing here?

DARNOLD

If I showed up to the Mixology department at nine in the morning, I’d be demoted back down to working at the gift shop!

COOMER

Doctor Freeman was able to hold down his position in spite of his frequent tardiness! 

DARNOLD

Doctor Freeman started the end of the world. 

COOMER

Darnold, that sounds like a skill issue.

GORDON

[beginning with a raised voice to restore order]

“Keep in mind that I was at work until midnight the night before and was going to work until midnight again, so I was a little tired and thinking about my day.”

DARNOLD

You guys got to go home between shifts?

Okay, that-- that sounds a little closer to my work schedule.

BUBBY

GORDON

“Getting close to the subway, I saw the clown and-- [laughs]

[SFX: Gordon’s stream alert faintly goes off. It is followed by the Geraint TTS voice, which says “BRASIL CAMPEÃO DO MUNDO”.]

GORDON

 --I saw the clown and immediately thought, ‘Oh fuck. He’s going to stop me’.”

COOMER

Gordon, I can award you one PlayCoin for every time I have heard that arrangement of words in that order.

GORDON

“‘He’s going to stop me to try to sell me stuff.’ So when I was approaching him, and he already started to talk before I even finished crossing the street, I was already putting my hand up and saying, ‘Sorry man, I’m good’.

BENREY

“No thanks. I already ate.”

GORDON

Exactly. “He tried to make me stop, even though I was on my third ‘dude, I’m good.’ And when he was still trying to make me stop, something came over me.”

BENREY

Lust.

GORDON

No.

Tommy, Darnold, Coomer and Bubby break into laughter. Gordon eventually laughs as well. 

GORDON

No-- [clears throat] “Something came over me, and I just yelled, ‘DUDE!’ and looked at him while I was still walking.” Presumably in Portuguese, so the tone might be a little different from “Dude”.

DARNOLD

Does anyone here know how you say “dude” in Portuguese?

BENREY

You don’t. 

TOMMY

Probably Mano.

GORDON

Chat says “cara or mano”. What was that, Tommy?

TOMMY

Mano.

GORDON

Mano. Good to know. “He looked fucking pissed, and when I was a few good steps away from him, he yelled: ‘I’M JUST WORKING! FUCK!’ And I yelled--”

TOMMY

He broke the clown code!

GORDON

--And I yelled back, ‘FUCK, AND I’M GOING TO WORK!”

BUBBY

A traditional call and response.

GORDON

And it closes with “Did I just create the Joker? Lol.”

DARNOLD

I dunno. I think the Joker would be pretty embarrassed if his entire backstory was getting yelled at once at the train station. 

BUBBY

“You wanna know how I got these scars?”

TOMMY

Yeah. Brazilian Joker-- 

BUBBY

“From sharing one credit card reader!”

[SFX: Gordon’s stream alert goes off once again, followed by the TTS voice saying “Five months. Lust.”]

TOMMY

--he would be a lot cooler than that.

GORDON

So aside from that, is OP the asshole for yelling at a clown?   

COOMER

I think they made a friend!

GORDON

You do? By yelling?

COOMER

These two working class heroes shared an important bonding moment about the difficulties of earning a living.

BUBBY

Yeah, some days you just need someone to scream the Fuck word at.

GORDON

Well, shit. 

BUBBY

OP made that clown’s day.

GORDON

I’m convinced. Yeah, all agreed?

TOMMY

Yeah.

DARNOLD

Yeah, no harm done.

BENREY

It’s part of that circle of life.

GORDON

Well, there we go. Not the asshole.

COOMER

The real clown was capitalism.

[SFX: A fanfare noise plays. This is followed once again by the Brazil Football fanfare, this time played in full without a cutoff.]

[sevs-corner]

Gary “Roach” Sanderson if he was in the CoD: MW Series (2019-2023)

LOOK-- I really like Roach (i watched the remastered mw2 2020 recently) and I wish he comes back later on in the current MW series. So for now (and my coping-ness) let’s imagine his dynamic with the gang! (These are all HCs with some in between dialogue and plot, and I'll be using some major plot points from the campaign. A lil' heads up, its been awhile since i've watched the gameplay so the timeline might be a bit confusing lol) Masterlist here ! And a previous HC of Roach here !

Roach gets recruited around the same time Gaz does, after the mission in London when Gaz’s team was trying to stop a cargo right in the middle of the city.

Roach is one of the many officers that gets called in for back-up

And then finds himself working in tandem with Gaz, covering each other’s backs as they try and secure the hostages

Price shows up as per usual and saves the two from under the rubble

Afterwards, with the two surprisingly not broken, they handle the aftermath and comes in the scene where Price recruits Gaz after he admits they had a great deal of info on the bust but was unable to act on it

Roach agrees, seeing the movements and reports that Gaz makes to their boss in the SAS, and feels mutual of how restricted they are right now

Seeing their conviction, Price gives a call to Kate and adds an additional person to the team-- Roach.

Then they all go on all sorts of missions together, Roach actually being the more grounded but chaotic of the three

So, lets say he adapts the shenanigans we do as players when we play as his POV in game

Randomly, he is picking up all sorts of guns from the ground, constantly swapping and taking too long to loot enemy bodies (that sometimes Gaz does it for him so they could move on quicker)

Price on the other hand just lets him does his thing-- until he rushes forward like a maniac and go guns blazing in the Embassy

But, he also gets scolded by plugging up comms from humming-singing, and--

what the fuck- PUT THE BANJO DOWN--

He's the type of person to be like that one guy who plays jazz music on his comms in a gun fight (yeah i made a gundam thunderbolt reference mhmm)

You'd think he'd go deaf but no, he takes peace in the chaos

Reveling and thriving in it actually, like he’s too used to the scene (he is but he would rather work in the moment then act in worry and in constant stress)

Roach was almost tempted to go with Alex and Farah for their cause but thinks about how he’s a much better fit with the 141 guys, and how he could see himself working in the squad long term

He eventually meets Johnny and Simon on the mission to get Hassan

Yet that goes to high and hell when he was a part of the A squad, barely clear of any wounds- luckily, nothing fatal

But the situation he found himself made him more energized with serotonin, easily making quick work of the combatants in his vicinity— doing his best to cover for his comrades who were still recovering

He knows Soap and Ghost would be here immediately but he tries to convince to focus on the mission, to let him handle it as he hunkers down for a moment to reload

They both deny, checking out first the crash site before checking out Hassan, and coming up empty

Until Roach finds the metal shipping carrier, calling over Soap, then Ghost and showing the find of that disdained American rocket

Soap, is obviously confused, and doesn't quite piece it together until Kate discusses it with him

As the others got busy with their personal mission

Of course, we're having Roach join the Ghost-Soap duo in Las Almas

Because of needing more man power in capturing Hassan of course

He hops into the mission somewhere in the middle, in the mission in getting Hassan with the assist of Graves and his shadows

Roach definitely hissed at this man on instinct and had to be held back by the armpit by Ghost

Even though he had a bad feeling swirling in his stomach, he kept it in and somehow ended up on the same squad as Graves going into the Oil Rig mission

Anddddddddddddddd you can guess how it went with him-- horribly

Personally, I can see how Graves to be this straight-laced guy when it comes to missions in a way that, if someone diverts from the mission or does something that may jeopardize it even a little-- he is going to flip

So that's what Roach exploited, the comms in his ears blowing up every time he goes for a risky kill or -instead of going for a stealth kill- he's going in guns blazing with a very, very exhausted Graves behind him

But the thing about Roach, no matter how reckless he is, he gets the job done

Graves wanted to oh so leave him in the Oil Rig before he and Soap exploded it, but sadly Ghost had told him and Alejandro to get the hell outta there before he could (such a damn shame)

But at least he gets to capture him in the streets of Las Almas

He got quite unlucky actually, about to meet Soap and Ghost but one wrong move got him captured

Ghost and Soap obviously becomes worried, and they're (with Rudy) are more determined than ever

And yep, this is the moment where Roach just sees red

Wreacking absolute havoc in his way with rage filling his veins

If there was anything that was going to tick Roach off, it would be his own allies hurting

Loyalty, whether in the military or not, is special

And if you use him and his allies for your own bitter ends and means?

Oh, you are in a world full of hurt

So much so, that you wished he spoke the merciful words, "pick and God and pray" by your death bed

He doesn't, not for Graves and definitely not for the man he called the General- Shepherd

He swears that Shepherd counted his lucky stars that night when they couldn't locate him after "getting rid of Graves and his lackeys for good"

But it doesn't end there- their job never does

This time, he accompanies Price and Soap into infiltrating the building for Hassan, leaving Overwatch to Ghost and the other team climbing the tower led by Gaz

He is back to, not even exploding the glass and breaking it, but pushing himself off the side of the building and cannon-balling straight through (with, suprise surprise, little to no injuries sustained)

He's a miracle ball of sunshine really

Soap then follows through and Price just... he could care less at the moment with Hassan (who is once again near their grasps)

Roach wanted to stay and help Price (who didn't get shot fatally but was still hurt from the blow) but his captain said to go

Thus, he went--

Doing his best to cover Soap as they finally steal the detonator from him but eventually run out of guns, and eventually--

Get

Shot.

Soap has to decide now- whether to save his comrade and friend or to stop the fucking missile from destroying the white house

Roach knew the cogs that was turning behind Soap's eyes, so he grabs his cheek and head butts him

Telling Soap to get his priority straight as he forces himself back up to distract Hassan

Soap tries to decode and hack the missile as soon as possible when the coast was clear

Luckily, he had just a couple of seconds to spare

Unluckily so, he saw Roach's pliant body in Hassan's hands- being dragged right in front of him

Soap is enraged, wrestling and trying to get the upperhand on armed Hassan

Luckily, Ghost always has his back-- shot on point, direct, and done in one click

With a heavy breath, he gives his thanks to Ghost before calling an evac- checking Roach's condition

Hands are cold to the touch but his artery pulse--

Faint!

By the time MW3 rolls around, Roach is up and at 'em!

Refreshed and recovered with the proper treatment and therapy

Some grazes to the nerves on his shoulder but its still all good and working--

"Ow!"

Yeah, he can't overexert it like before

Which makes the Tf 141 relieved...for now

A/N: Cont for the MW3 part soon! I just wanna freshen up with the plot on Makarov 'cause it was a bit confusing to follow so yeah lol

[live-love-be-unique]

Weekend Away

Summary: A weekend away camping with your friend Soap leads to the start of a new relationship.

My submission for @glitterypirateduck #CoDVacationMode challenge. The prompts I used were:

12. Camping

32. Friends to lovers

34. First time seeing each other naked

Parings: Soap x f reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut

It had been a rare weekend of downtime after you had finished the last mission and after an offhand comment that you were going to do absolutely nothing except crash into your bed and move only just enough so that people didn’t mistake you for being dead, Soap had declared you to be his camping partner. When you agreed to join Soap on a camping trip you didn’t realize how thorough his preparation was. It started with his sending you a joint Spotify playlist “we’ll be needing good road trip music bonnie” along with a detailed list of your favorite road trip and camping snacks as well as a list of “things you need to pack to survive”.

The day the two of you set off, Gaz left you with some of his words of wisdom: “If you hear banjos, clench your buttcheeks!”

“Really Gaz? You’re referencing Deliverance now? If I get killed in some back woods somewhere I hope you fall out of another helicopter” You snap as Gaz smirks. That little shit.

You jumped as a deep Scottish accent sounded from behind you “Relax bonnie, if I wanted to kill you I wouldn’t tell anyone where we were going” Soap smirked as you got into his jeep.

“Not comforting MacTavish!” He laughed and pulled out of the parking spot “you haven’t told me where you’re dragging me yet”

“Relax, would you! You’re going to love it”

For the next three hours of driving you had been treated to Soap belting out his favorite songs, which mostly seemed like The Proclaimers on repeat and drumming on the steering wheel, both he and the radio at full volume.

“…When I wake up, well, I know I’m gonna be

I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you…”

You were almost ready to kick him out of the moving vehicle and head back to base when Soap pulled onto a dirt track. He stopped the car near the small forest and jumped out.

“We made it? Finally!”

“Not quite lass”

“What do you mean ‘not quite’? We’ve been driving for hours”

“Little bit of a hike to get there but I promise it’s worth it”

He’d of course been lying when he called it a ‘little bit of a hike’. You’d been walking for ages, enjoying the scenery of the area, you did have to admit it was a beautiful spot. You watched a flock of birds fly over the lake, not watching where you were walking and crashed straight into Soap’s back.

“Careful there bonnie” he chuckled as his arms braced you from falling flat on your face.

“Thanks” you muttered. Blushing, you extracted yourself from Soap’s arms and brushed yourself off.

“We’re here!” He announced with a flourish, throwing his arms out with a giant grin on his face. You look around and see what Soap is gesturing towards. You look in awe at the ruins of a castle, the crumbling stone walls overgrown with vines as nature slowly took over throughout the years “I found it when I was out here last and you were the first person I knew who I had to show this too”

“Me?” You ask, tearing your eyes away from the ruins.

“You love all those stories set in castles with ladies and knights and stuff so I just thought you might want to explore it and…” Soap rambled, suddenly nervous.

“I love it!..Wait, we’re camping here?!” You interrupted him, almost squealing with excitement.

“That was the plan, I thought we could set up the tent over by that wall there” he spotted you taking your camera out of your bag “I can set up the tent if you want to take a look around” he chuckled as you started admiring the sights through the lense of your camera.

You’d been exploring and photographing everything you could set your eyes on when you turned back to thank Soap for bringing you here but the words died in your mouth when you spotted Soap setting up the tent you’d be sleeping in tonight.

Dressed in a t-shirt and cargos, you watched as his arms flexed and moved as he pulled a support rope taut. You knew he was attractive, and might have been sporting a little bit of a crush, but as he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face you’re pretty sure he could ask you to run away with him and you’d happily go.

“Why don’t you take a picture” he smirked childishly “it’ll last longer”

“Maybe I can take a picture of you like one of my French girls” you laugh back.

“Come on you numpty, we need firewood” he bumped your shoulder with his as he passed by.

The two of you worked quietly setting up the remainder of your little camping spot, the setting sun casting shadows through the stone window frame that would have once held a beautiful stained glass.

Soap lit the campfire while you started preparing your food, pleasantly surprised Soap had packed everything to make hamburgers, he laughed at your little happy smile “couldn’t drag you somewhere and not pack your favorite food”

You leaned back against your rucksack, relaxing into the quiet night air, you could get used to this you realize, beautiful scenery, no technology, sharing burgers and beers with Soap as you told each other funny stories about your friends and family and the rest of your team.

Soap stopped his current story and glanced up at the sky “come here” he gestured for you to sit next to him. You made your way over to his side as he dragged you down to lay next to him, both of your heads resting on a fallen log “look up”

You turned your eyes towards the night sky and gasped in awe, the entire sky was full of stars, you could see every single constellation.

“It’s beautiful” you whisper “I wish I could stay here forever”

“Told you you’d love it here” you glance over and meet Soap’s eye.

You stared into his eyes for what seemed like hours before you felt him shuffling closer until he was nose to nose with you. You’re not sure who made the first move, perhaps you both did, but Soap’s lips found yours as his hand moved from his beer to the back of your head, holding you closer to him.

You yelped in surprise against his lips as his other arm wound around your waist and pulled you onto his lap “I’ve got you bonnie” he smirked as he left open mouth kisses along your jaw and down your neck, his hand resting underneath you jaw, tilting your head to allow him more access to your neck. You throw your head back as a giggle erupts from your throat as Soap’s lips find a ticklish spot on your neck, you feel him smile against your skin as he continues his journey down your throat.

You reach down and take hold of Soap’s shirt and pull it over his head, his lips leaving your skin for the briefest moment as the shirt is pulled over his face. He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours as you catch your breath, blue eyes shining in the light of the campfire.

Soap curses as the boom of thunder breaks through the air, looking up at the sky as the first large raindrops land on your skin, he maneuvers you in his arms and carries you to the tent.

Setting you down in front of him, he wraps his fingers in your hair and pulls you against his lips, kissing you. His hands find the buttons of your shirt and makes quick work of them before he slides the fabric down over your arms and throws it over his shoulder.

The wind howled outside the shelter of your tent as you slowly undress each other, eyes and fingers tracing over each newly exposed area of skin, committing every single thing to memory “fuck lass, are you trying to kill me?” Soap smirked as his eyes practically devoured you. Standing in front of each other, dressed only in your underwear, both suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of being naked in front of each other for the first time.

Soap laid you down on the mattress he’d brought for the base of the tent “Do you want me to stop?” He asked as he positioned himself between your legs, resting on his forearms as he hovered over you.

“No” you whisper, fingers trailing through the coarse hair covering his chest. Soap shivered as your nails drag their way down his chest towards the waistband of his boxers “do you want me to, stop I mean?”

“If you stop I think might die” he claimed dramatically.

“Is that so?” You grin.

“I’d perish” Soap grins playfully back down at you “slowly and painfully in fact”

“Well, we can’t have that”

He leans back and kneels between your legs as lean forward, hands dragging his boxers down over his hips, Soap’s hands cover yours helping to remove the boxers down off his legs as your eyes wander over the length of his body, you unconsciously lick your lips as your eyes roam over his cock and he grins as your eyes meet his again “see something you like?” that cocky little shit.

Soap wraps his arms around you and lifts you up onto his lap as skilled hands make quick work of undoing your bra and throwing it to the other side of the tent. As he lays you back down you raise your hands to cover yourself, suddenly shy under the heat of his gaze.

“Come on now” he smiles softly “don’t tell me you’re going shy on me” You find yourself smiling back as you slowly lower your hands. His lips find yours “lift your hips for me love” he mutters against your lips.

“Christ” he mutters under his breath as his eyes roam over you “can’t tell you how many times if imagined you like this”

“You have?”

“Mhmm, seeing you now, definitely didn’t do justice to the real thing” you feel yourself blushing as you reach between your bodies to guide him towards your pussy.

“Soap…please” you grind yourself against the head of his cock.

“Please what love?” Soap grins, knowing he has you exactly where he wants you.

“Are you going to fuck me or what?” You sass.

He finally pushes into you with a single thrust “there she is” he smirks as you gasp. His forehead rests against yours as his crystalline blue eyes watch over every emotion that crosses your face. He hikes your thighs over his hips as his thrusts become more forceful, hands scrambling to feel every inch of exposed skin they can.

He lays kisses across your chest, blindly finding your nipple as his fingers graze your clit. Your thrust grow more frantic as you both begin to approach your climax. You cling to his shoulders, crying out his name Johnny as you as you come. Soap follows soon after, his own orgasm hitting him with a final thrust. He comes with a grunt as he collapses on top of you, you hold him tightly as you catch your breath. You hear yourself whimper as he pulls out of you, he wraps his arms around you tightly as he buries his face against your neck.

The next morning you find yourself curled into Soap’s chest as he lays on his back, one leg thrown over his and your head resting on his chest. Your stomach rumbling with hunger “What do you want to eat?” He asks, his morning voice made thicker by his accent.

You pretend to think, resting your chin in your arms over his chest “bacon and eggs”

“Oh aye, my girl wants bacon and eggs?” His arms tighten around you, holding you close. My girl, he calls you like it’s the most natural thing in the world “and what do I get in return?” His eyes glint as he smiles.

“Round two?”

Soap rolls the two of you over, laughing as he starts to lay kisses all over your face and neck “works for me”

[hooked-on-elvis]

APPRECIATION POST

ELVIS AND THE BLUE MOON BOYS: As told by Scotty Moore.

On a December 27th SCOTTY MOORE was born.🎈 I'm a little late but I wanted to celebrate this special month and date still in 2024. So here's a little summarized story, from Scotty's POV, of how it all started to happen in the music industry for him, Elvis, Bill and D.J,, our dear Blue Moon Boys. The story of how Rock and Roll music was born when initially three young men formed a trio in mid-1954.

I must begin with an observation: "That's Alright, Elvis: The Untold Story of Elvis' First Guitarist and Manager, Scotty Moore" by Scotty Moore as told to James L. Dickerson, from where this excerpt above comes from, is a GREAT book! A definite Elvis and Rock and Roll music fans "must read." I'm yet to read Bill Black's story in "Don't Be Cruel, Elvis: The Bill Black Story" by Paul F. Belard and DJ Fontana's memoir book ("D.J. Fontana remembers Elvis")... but I'm taking my time enjoying Scotty's book for now. It's full of details and I'm impressed with each little part of his (their) story in those pages. People are not usually that interested in musicians as much as in the lead singers, specially if they're not musicians themselves, like me - but Scotty Moore had a very interesting life, besides the book is so well written, honest and fun you can't seriously feel it's even close to being uninteresting. Reading Scotty's book I never had the feeling of wanting to skip the story to the part where Elvis comes into the picture because Scotty's own story is that incredible! I mean it. Anyhow, I'm just sharing how much reading Scotty Moore's story was so important to me and made me feel a deeper appreciation for the Rock and Roll history as a whole and also it helped me better understanding Elvis as a person and how he came to be the legendary artist he became. I didn't finish the book yet, but I can tell from where I am in my readin that having Scotty, Bill and D.J.'s support, guidance and friendship was crucial to the rise of Elvis Presley as we know.

For the record, it actually started with Scotty Moore chasing his dream, cutting a record at the Memphis Recording Service and being asked to audition Presley afterwards. To think Scotty wasn't even supposed to be born! Haha... we'll get to that.

PICTURES: Three-months and five-years old Scotty Moore.

Winfield Scott Moore III (December 27, 1931 – June 28, 2016) was fond of music since he was a child. One of Scotty's bigger brothers gave him his guitar as a farewell gift when Scotty was five years old and his brother, Ralph, the youngest son in the family prior to Scotty being born, joined the US Navy (picture 1 is Scotty wearing a Navy uniform his brother sent him while he was serving). Scotty Moore had four siblings, three boys and a girl. In ascending order of age, they were Carney, Mildred Lee, Edwin and Ralph. His sister, Mildred, sadly passed away when she was only fourteen years old and Scotty wasn't even born yet. It was a hard time for the Moore family, but that sad event in their story was the reason why Scotty existed. Scotty's father, Winfield Scott Moore, found relief for his grief in music, playing fiddle and the banjo, instruments he taught himself how to play. Later he would teach his children how to play guitar. His mother, on the other hand, never got over losing her only girl. Scotty's brothers were born respectively in 1911, 1913, 1915 and 1917. Mildred, born in 1913, died in 1928. A couple of years later, Mattie Moore, Scotty's mother was already thirty-eight years old while her husband and Scotty's father was forty. Regardless of their age, she was so inconsolable over losing her only girl child, they decided to have another baby, hoping for another girl. That's when Scotty was born, in 1931. Scotty laughed when sharing this story. His parents never treated him as if he was a mistake, always showed him the same love they had for all the other children. However, being born with a huge gap regarding the other children in the family (Scotty's brothers were already 20, 16 and 14 when he was born), was not that easy. He felt left out simply because his siblings were in different moments in life than he was. Growing up as the only children in their household possibly contributed a lot to Scotty's relatively reserved, cautious, sober but highly creative personality.

The Moore family — L-R: Edwin, Scott (father), Carney, Ralph, Mattie (mother) and Scotty.

Given the circumstances surrounding his family, as the Great Depression hit hard, Scotty and his brothers grew up watching his father playing music in square dances and parties to help supplement the family's income. Eventually all the boys were involved with music, joining their father in a family band and playing together to help making ends meet. Like them, Scotty grew to love music but found in his guitar more than a way to unwind or to make a few bucks, he actually got serious over playing music and eventually went to dedicating most of his free time to improve his guitar skills.

"Scotty wanted to go fast. He wanted to play music you could dance to. It was as if there was some yet undefined, an inner rhythm simmering inside him, something wild and raw trying to break out into the light of day."

Excerpt "That's Alright, Elvis: The Untold Story of Elvis' First Guitarist and Manager, Scotty Moore" by Scotty Moore as told to James L. Dickerson.

Growing up, Scotty did not find his vocation in school. In his words, he "didn't dig" the school, being an average student. He dropped school for one year after completing the ninth grade, dedicating his time working in the family's farm, but not enjoying the work decided to go back to finish his high school education. In January 1948 Scotty followed his older siblings' steps and decided to enlist in the U.S. Navy. He was only sixteen at the time — the minimum age to join the Navy was eighteen or seventeen, with parent's permission. Therefore, Scotty had to lie about his age. He was lucky his father was supportive. According to Scotty, that was the only time his father lied, to help him. At the age of sixteen, Scotty Moore was a Navy man, still he never left his guitar aside. During his time in the Navy, Scotty formed different bands. One of them even had a fifteen-minute radio show on radio station KPRO in Bremington, Washington, and also played at clubs and parties off-base.

"When he played song the way they were written, they somehow came out different - faster, more energetic. On the outside, Scotty was cool and collected, and shy country boy. On the inside, he was bubbling with emotion. Music was his release. No one had ever heard music the way Scotty heard it; no one had ever felt it the same way."

Excerpt "That's Alright, Elvis: The Untold Story of Elvis' First Guitarist and Manager, Scotty Moore" by Scotty Moore as told to James L. Dickerson.

PICTURE: (1) The USS LST-855, the first ship on which Scotty served in China, and its officers. (2) Later, Scotty served in Japan and Korea on board of the aircraft carrier USS Valley Forge. Picture shows Scotty (left) with musician friends on board of the USS Valley Forge.

Scotty had to become a man fast, the Navy training and his time serving were enough to achieve that. Still, when he returned home to Tennessee after being discharged from the Navy on December 4, 1952, with a China and a Korean service medals in his collections, he was still headset to make music his life and main source of income. By 1954, while he worked at common jobs to make a living, after all at the tender age of 23 he was already a former Navy man, married (then to Bobbie Walls, his second wife) and had two children from his first marriage (to Mary Durkee) he needed to support — Linda Moore, born in December 16, 1950 and Donald Moore, born also on December 16, but in 1952 — Scotty had been trying to gather musicians to play in his free time around Memphis and its neighborhood. Those musicians groups had many different formations, none in particular and no official band for a while. it was upsetting since Scotty took playing music seriously. He looked for musicians as passionate and dedicated to music as himself to form a band and, eventually, he would find those musicians who would encourage him to pursue his dream even further.

Scotty's first real band, a band he formed (under contract and all, quite unusual at that time for small bands) and to which he was the manager to, was the Starlite Wranglers — Lead vocals by Doug Poindexter, Bill Black on bass, Millard Yow on steel guitar, Clyde Rush on guitar and Thomas Sealy on fiddle. Just like Elvis but prior to him, Scotty did cut a record with his band at Sam Phillips' Memphis Recording Service facilities (Sun Records) in Memphis, Tennessee, in May 1954. That's how he got acquainted with Sam. The songs they recorded were "My Kind Of Carryin' On" (A-Side) and "Now She Cares No More For Me" (B-Side).

However, the Starlite Wranglers did not succeed as Scotty hoped for. Still, he continue to perform live in small gigs with his band, concerts he would book himself. At that moment, it was enough satisfying that he had a band with a real record out but he wanted better, he needed more. Scotty continued to visit Sam Phillips at Sun Records, hoping the man could get him a better chance to succeed in the business next time around. One summer day in 1954, Scotty was asked by Sam Phillips to audition Elvis Presley for him, to find out if Elvis was worth his time, money and records producing skills, following the suggestion of Sun Record's secretary Marion Keisker, who had been chatting with Elvis back and forth since he got into the studio in July 1953 looking to cut a private record as a gift to his mom, as he said. Marion was enchanted by the young's man politeness and lovable personality but also with his persistence in making music his real job. Scotty, on the other hand, knew nothing about Elvis, had never seen him until that point. He decided to invite Bill Black to help him out with the audition at Scotty's home (983 Belz street, North Memphis), a house that shared the same neighborhood as Bill Black and his wife's home. It happened on a Sunday afternoon: July 4, 1954. That same day, after the audition, Scotty gave his approval to Sam Phillips and they all got together at Sun Records. That's when "That's All Right, Mama" a 1946 blues song originally recorded by Arthur "Big Boy" Crudup was covered... but at Elvis, Scotty and Bill's brand new style.

PICTURES: 1. Scotty Moore's home in 1954, at 983 Belz street in Memphis, TN. The street was renamed and now (as far as I know) it's the Eldridge street, North Memphis. 2. Bill Black's home at the same neighborhood (967 Belz street). Moore and Black were neighbors in mid-1954 after the Blacks (Bill and his wife Evelyn) told Scotty and his then wife, Bobbie, about a home available for rent there. They first auditioned Elvis in Scotty's home on July 4, 1954, according to Scotty "Elvis arrived shortly after noon." ••• Credits (pictures): Mike Freeman on Flickr, pictures taken on February 21, 2011. Additional info: Youtuber Billy from "Spa Guy" channel visited the address. Here's a video uploaded in 2017 that shows the sites: "Elvis Presley Audition Scotty & Bill."

Scotty had a long story with music of his own prior to Elvis coming into his life. He knew much more about the music industry than Elvis at that point when they met (mid-1954) and so did Bill Black, both already used to entertaining small audiences in honky tonks, which proved to be just what Elvis needed, jovial musicians with a passion for music as strong as his own, but people that could school him on the business.

The trio was a perfect match. Elvis' voice and the attention he got, the curious gazes from both youngsters and adults, interested not only in his voice but also in his flashy looks and unusual movements onstage, combined with Scotty's management skills and Bill's boldness to experiment with sounds and the great enthusiasm and energy he brought onstage, encouraging the rather shy young Elvis to let loose and show everyone his true self, was like the stars were finally aligned when those three met. When Elvis already had a deal with Sun Records and was finally a music artist as he dreamed of becoming, a member of the trio gathered by Sam Phillips to which Scotty Moore naturally took over the management responsibilities (in contract signed on July 12th, 1954 just a few days after Elvis' first audition with Bill and Scotty), due to his previous experience as a band manager. Initially, Scotty Moore was the only person actually booking gigs for them. The easiest way for Scotty to introduce his new band to the public was by incorporating the trio as "special guests" to the Starlite Wranglers shows. One of the sites they played at was the Bon Air Club, a bar at the outer rim of the city (Memphis) limits. That was before Elvis and The Moon Boys could even have a name, as it would be for a little while...

The group's name soon after would come. Taken from the B-side of "That's All Right, Mama", "Blue Moon of Kentucky," a Bill Monroe hit from 1946 that was recorded at Sun Records by Elvis and the boys just a couple of days afterwards, on July 6, 1954.

"With 'That's All Right, Mama,' Elvis took a blues song and sang it white. With 'Blue Moon of Kentucky' he did the opposite: he took a country song and gave it a bluesy spin."

Excerpt "That's Alright, Elvis: The Untold Story of Elvis' First Guitarist and Manager, Scotty Moore" by Scotty Moore as told to James L. Dickerson.

Already on the road, a little while afterwards the three added a drums player to the group, D.J. Fontana. They'd met and become friends during the Louisiana Hayride gigs, where D.J. was an in-house drummer on its Saturday night radio broadcast. Hidden behind the curtains onstage for a Louisiana Hayride performance of Elvis and the Blue Moon Boys, on October 16 1954 at the Municipal Auditorium in Shreveport, LA, D.J. had his first taste of what it was like to play with the boys. D.J. said about playing with them: "I figured the best thing for these guys was to stay out of the way, why would I clutter it up with cymbals? I'll just play the back beat and stay out of their way. They already had the good sound."

Scotty's management on Elvis' career didn't last long, tho. As a local musician with no connections in the business that could give the band a national break, Elvis' management contract was given to the deejay Bob Neal, a friend of Sam Phillips, and, not long afterwards, to Colonel Parker, who would take over Elvis' destiny from then on. Scotty shares in his book that the moment he talked to Parker he could feel Elvis and the Blue Moon Boys as they were was not far from becoming history. He wasn't wrong. but that's another story. The boys still had time to be featured in some of Elvis' most remarkable films released in the 50s, as "Jailhouse Rock" (1957), and definitely left an everlasting mark in music and a legacy that'll never be forgotten.

It was crazy being a musician for Elvis Presley, sure, but those three guys rocked and, IMHO, the Blue Moon Boys are the responsible ones for Elvis getting to be so demanding on hiring his musicians when he went back to performing live, in 1969, after the end of his Hollywood acting career and a hiatus from live performances that lasted seven years. At the beginnings, Scotty said there was a point [at the peak of the Elvis Mania in the 50s] where they couldn't hear any music during the concerts, so they had no option but to guide themselves by Elvis' moves onstage to get an idea of what part of the songs they were supposed to be playing. D.J. Fontana said he could hear the music but couldn't see the other musicians when he started playing with the boys. Elvis couldn't hear himself in most of the shows in the 50s, specially when things got bigger and wilder from 1956 on. Elvis was a perfectionist and he expected his musicians to follow his lead onstage. He would gesture to them whenever he wanted a change in the pace or sound... when to begin playing, when to pause, when to lower the music, when to come to an end. Elvis liked how intuitive, quick and responsive to him Scotty, Bill and D.J. were onstage, and that established his standard for what good live musicians were made of. Other than a perfectionist, Elvis was quite methodical character in work. He wasn't one to get easily convinced into changing his way of doing things if he liked the way they worked before. That's another great insight Scotty's book gives us. As the band was originally composed by three members, they didn't have a lot of instruments to fill the sound in records, so Sam Phillips decided to put Elvis' vocals at the same level as the instruments as he produced their records. Elvis liked how that sounded, so much so that he just hated when people (and I mean Colonel Parker) wanted to bring his vocals front and put the instruments more or less in the background, which happened in some of his later records. Colonel Parker reasoned with that saying Elvis' fans wanted to hear Elvis' voice, nothing more and Elvis didn't agree in the slightest. Other example of Elvis being resistant to changes in the music business was in 1969 at the American Sound studio, when the way of producing records was very different than in the 50s, being more common to tape the parts of the songs separately (backing vocals, instruments and leading vocals) because that gave a better opportunity to explore with the sounds to the music producers, allowing them to reach different sounds than recording songs with all of the musicians playing and singing together in the same room as in a live concert could give. Elvis had a little bit of a hard time accepting it. He loved how the 50s music was made. That, my friends, is how the Blue Moon Boys era and his experience recording at Sun Records was dear to the King's heart.

Well, not so full of dates and details but that's it. Just a summarized story of the beginnings of Rock and Roll music in the 50s. In Scotty's book it's all way more interesting, I guarantee you. The point is... those guys were a force of nature together. They were different, fresh, exciting... as a team. It was not only about the lead singer for a while. Scotty was quite shy and modest, yet very mature and serious over playing music, while Bill Black was fun and energetic onstage, giving Elvis the encouragement to act more wild and bold onstage too, little by little but quickly becoming as untamed as he could be, inspiring fear and frenzy into the "square" 50s society. EP learned a lot about how to be an exciting entertainer at that time.

Scotty, Bill and DJ... I will always appreciate your efforts and dedication to music. You were extremely important, taught and guided Elvis while he was finding his way in the industry. Your place in history is permanent, and so is our gratitude. Don't be fooled, my friends, we still feel the direct impact Elvis and the Blue Moon Boys caused in the entertainment industry. They rocked our world.

I specially will always appreciate Scotty Moore being stubborn on his passion with music. In a world where so many people are wannabes, so many try to make it and give up when things get rough and life happens, Scotty's vision and creativity helped change the course of music forever. It wasn't easy. Scotty, just like Elvis in a future time, lost his (first) wife - among other reasons - because of his music inclination. Scotty and Bill were a reflection of what Elvis was, if we take a closer look at their private lives. As I said before, they matched. It was meant to be.

Happy heavenly belated birthday, Scotty. I hope I did justice sharing a little bit of your story. I am an admirer of your work. Even not knowing the least about music technicalities, I know enough to be certain your guitar playing talent inspired many great musicians that would come after you. Your story is unique and so special. I feel blessed knowing a little bit of who you were and how you felt. God bless your soul, dear Scotty. ♥

[mishy-mashy]

WELP got a new BNHA fic idea about the Resistance and an entrepreneurial OC, including:

Kudo is pretty sure the university barista isn't as polite and proper as she seems. Bruce doesn't believe him

"Are you sure you want to be working on Valentine's, Shiki-san?" Bruce looked up at the red streamers hung around. "Don't you have someone to go out with? It'll be really busy with all the couples."

She gave a closed-eye smile, which set off an alarm in their heads as this was very much not her usual one. It was a familiar sensation, being why they stiffened—the instinctive fear of scary women.

"What are you talking about, Bruce? Other than the fact that I have no time for romance..."

Her back turned, fist clenched as fire erupted in her eyes and around her. The aura she let off darkened her surroundings to a noxious blue, and Kudo could swear he saw GOGOGOGO~ characters shrouding her.

"Coffee dates are a classic. I can't turn down this chance to turn a profit......"

Bruce and Kudo sweatdropped.

Kudo likes facial masks

"Are those things really essential?" Bruce deadpanned, watching her stash mask packets away.

"If I ever need a self-care day to relax for a bit," she said.

Kudo put a finger on his cheek, touching the results of the deluxe face mask he stole from her.

"Totally understandable. Shit feels great. I'm smoother than a baby's ass."

"Kudo," Bruce warned, not wanting him to swear in front of her.

"That's why I was saving it. Jerk."

"Jerk who saved your life."

"Kudo!"

Being asked out by All For One while undercover with a fake identity

Her brain stalled.

"Fumi Haruka. Be my woman."

"..... I'm sorry, but we barely know each other. So, a relationship like that is..."

Yoichi didn't want to be here. He really did not want to watch his brother do this right now.

"Brother!!"

... Oh boy.

Yoichi doesn't understand Resistance codenames

"What's your name, dear?"

"Yoichi," he mumbled.

"What would you like to be called?"

"Yoichi."

"...... Alright." She didn't falter, tone as chipper as when she first asked. Similarly, Leader and Bruce didn't even blink as she introduced herself with a codename.

Writing their own domestic fanfiction in a canon-divergent void out of boredom

"I think we should adopt," Yoichi said thoughtfully. "I'd love to give children another chance at family."

"Oh, boy, 'children' plural." She did not miss that little big fact. "What's the limit of children? I don't want more than three."

"I want six," Yoichi hummed.

"More than one," Kudo decided so firmly that he definitely already had a number in mind.

"Only one, because just one is going to drive our house crazy," Bruce remarked as the sole voice of reason. "I wouldn't mind another one when the first is old enough."

"Well, we definitely aren't in agreement."

Going through their theater kid arc while waiting for the other vestiges

"She's the most beautiful girl in the whole town. That makes her the best."

"Damn, Kudo, didn't know that was your motivation," Bruce muttered not-quietly-at-all.

Yoichi still learning his memes

"Are we all cowabunga on this?" Yoichi asked the other holders.

None answered him. Finally, Shiki sighed and spared them all the discomfort of answering. "Yeah. We're cowabunga."

"God, I hope the road works ahead," Kudo muttered under his breath.

"This is fine." Bruce held up a thumbs-up.

En crinkled his nose, keeping quiet. They were his senpais, but, They're so outdated.

The first four holders being old

"Do you think we should call them Quirks now?" Yoichi asked Shiki, turning his head. "It's been long enough. No one calls them Meta Abilities anymore."

"Eh..." She looked away, not partial to the idea.

"We should keep up with the times," Yoichi decided for them.

".. If you think we should," she relented. Yet again, she fell victim to it: no one could say no to Yoichi. "Quirks," she tried it out. "Quirks. We have Quirks."

"No offense, Shiki-tan, but it sounds weird coming from you."

"Bruce, please."

Bruce basically having aneurysms whenever his attention is brought to All Might and Midoriya's health

"I WAS RIGHT."

"Bruce-"

"FORCING HIMSELF TO DO SOMETHING HE CAN'T DO WILL JUST BREAK SOMETHING."

[*Midoriya using One For All for the first time]

[colferpics]

SNL: How Chris Colfer Ended Up on "What's Up With That?"

Article below the cut:

Sit down and take a big, mental Ooooo weeeee — it’s not like Diondre Cole will let you get a word in anyway. Chris Colfer learned this in spectacularly amusing fashion while appearing on the seventh edition of Saturday Night Live’s recurring “What Up With That?” sketch, which found the Gleeactor sandwiched between a real Paul Simon and fake Lindsey Buckingham. (The latter of whom, as always, cut his family vacation short to be there.) Teased as part of “a salute to music greats” on the show’s May 14, 2011, episode, Colfer had the honor of fulfilling the essential duties of the middle chair: silently tolerating the absurdity of how Diondre (Kenan Thompson) runs his made-for-BET program, as the host would rather disrupt his guests with elaborate song-and-dance routines than actually let them talk. While the first guest tends to get a sentence or two in — Simon briefly hypes up his new album — the second is often relegated to reaction shots while a Narnia wardrobe full of characters such as, say, “the bad boy of bluegrass” Captain Sexy Banjo and the real Buckingham materialize out of nowhere. If you’re overthinking it, just stop. “What Up With That?” was not intended for analysis.

Colfer, who had recently wrapped Glee’s phenomena of a second season, was at the right place at the right time for SNL to think of him for the cameo. Plans were canceled. Excitement ran high. It all went live in 36 hours. And he didn’t care that he had nothing to do besides cross his legs. “It’s such a special memory for me. Being a microscopic spot of SNL history is the ultimate bragging right,” he says now. “If anyone ever tries to one-up me at a party, I whip that one out, and I usually win the conversation.”

How exactly was this sketch presented to you? Were you aware that it had already become a recurring and well-oiled SNL staple of sorts? Yeah, I was. I’ve always been a huge fan of SNL, so I was familiar with the sketch and I thought it was hilarious. I was in New York City, and I had just done a live interview. I did so many interviews at the time for Glee that I can’t even remember who it was for. My publicist and I were walking down, like, 47th or 48th Street afterward, and she got a random call. It was Friday afternoon. One of SNL’s bookers had just seen me on live television and asked if I was still in the city. They said, “Can he do a cameo in tomorrow night’s episode?”And I responded, “Hell yes, absolutely.” No joke: They asked me to come in for a rehearsal immediately. So we had to clear the rest of my afternoon and went straight to Rockefeller Center. It was the easiest rehearsal I’ve ever done, because I didn’t have to do anything. I just had to sit there and be quiet. Then I went in the next day, and we did the dress rehearsal and then we did the live taping. It was magical.

Did you instinctively understand the humor? I mean, when I tell friends about my love of “What Up With That?”, what comes out of my mouth is jumbled nonsense about BET and a fake Lindsey Buckingham. It’s not the easiest thing to wrap a mind around. I did. I remember on Saturday, in between the rehearsal and the live taping, the writers came to my dressing room and said, “We want to give you a line. Let’s try this out.” And I responded, “Absolutely not. You cannot give me a line. It’s way funnier if I’m just there and I don’t say anything.” And they looked at me and said, “Well, you’re the first guest to ever say that, and thank God, because we agree.”

An excellent instinct. I can’t remember what the specific line was, but I was going to say something at the very end, and Kenan’s character was going to cut me off. But we all agreed it was funnier if I didn’t even try to talk.

So you sit down for the dress rehearsal, look to your left, and there’s Paul Simon in the chair. What was your opening line to him? It was a complete secret who was in those seats until I showed up at that rehearsal. They didn’t tell me any details until I actually arrived in the studio — I had to be escorted right on the stage to my seat. I didn’t even have a script. Well, I didn’t need one, of course, because I wasn’t saying anything. And then I turned to my left and it’s Paul Simon. And then I turned to my right, and it’s Lindsey Buckingham waiting in the wings of the set. How the heck did I get here? I couldn’t say anything. I froze. I remember thinking at that moment, Chris, do not ask any questions about Stevie Nicks or Carrie Fisher. I had to repeat that to myself over and over and over again in my head. Paul Simon probably thought I was a seat filler.

So you didn’t ask if he was a Gleek? Oh God, no. I never assume anyone knows who I am or knows where I’m from.

Was there a sense of nerves on your end before the live taping began? It’s funny, because this required the least amount of effort on my part, but I was still extremely nervous. I was nervous that I would trip on the way there. But more so than nerves, it’s just that that show is pure adrenaline. It’s chaos, but it’s organized chaos. Everyone knows exactly what they’re doing, but it’s absolutely what you would imagine: People running back and forth in the hallways, carrying props and costumes and set pieces. It was really, really neat. I still have my little Chris Colfer plaque for my dressing room.

Where do you keep it?I have an awards case, so it’s on display there. It was a gift.

For me, at least, the best part of the sketch is all of the wordless expressions taking in the absurdity of everything. Do you remember how the writers wanted you to react to certain beats? The direction that the three of us were given was: “You’re on the show with this lunatic who doesn’t let his guests talk. Look as annoyed and out of place as possible.” So that seems easy, in theory, but the hardest part was not laughing my ass off. There’s one particular moment, when Kristen Wiig does this little hoedown in the middle of the sketch while a banjo plays. Everyone in the audience was falling to pieces, and I was looking at the ceiling so I wouldn’t join them. I got to release some of the joy in that moment.

The lineage of “middle seat” people includes Mindy Kaling, Ernest Borgnine, Carrie Brownstein, Robin Williams, and Jack McBrayer. Do you see any connective tissue among you all? I feel like I would just be flattering myself trying to make a connection, so instead I’ll say we all just happened to be free at the right time and have a good sense of humor.

Who do you think would be uniquely qualified to portray a fake Chris Colfer? The only person I know who could do it is Marcia Gay Harden — with a good wig. Years ago, they were going to do an episode of Glee where something happened at McKinley High School. There was going to be this big, fake movie made about it. So we were all casting ourselves on who would play our characters in this fake movie. They had Glenn Close playing Sue Sylvester and Justin Timberlake as Matthew Morrison. So I said, “Well, Marcia Gay Harden has to play me.” It was a big joke. Unfortunately, the episode didn’t happen, but they were thinking about actually making it.

Did you go to the SNL after-party in celebration of the episode? Yes, I did, and I got to chat with Lorne Michaels for a little bit. It’s really hard to make small talk with someone with that kind of résumé. You don’t want to ask the wrong question, and you don’t want to seem like you’re too big of a fan. But I couldn’t help myself. I asked about the history of the show, his favorite sketches, and the sketches he regretted. He was very kind and open to answering everything. He did tell me I’d be back on, so I’ll hold him to it one day.

Have you ever cut a family vacation short to do a talk show? I’m sure I have. I’ve cut family vacations short for much, much less, too.

[42ap]

One morning, in the Oregon shack, Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford were having breakfast together. Fiddleford brought up a paper he’d recently read, The Evolution of Social Attitudes Towards Homosexual Relationships in 20th-Century America: A Historical Analysis, and shared some of the views it mentioned. For example, gay men might tend to pursue fashionable and personalized styles of clothing and have a higher appreciation for pop music, dance music, and the arts. Additionally, they might show a distinctive social behavior pattern with more frequent and intimate interactions within their social circles.

Stanley: Ha, I always thought men who liked theater were kind of sissy.

Stanford: I think the article oversimplifies things. Just because someone likes art doesn’t mean they’re necessarily gay.

Fiddleford: That’s true, just like being gay doesn’t necessarily mean you enjoy theater. I don’t believe that a gay man’s social behavior can be summarized; there are always exceptions. And those who haven’t acknowledged their orientation haven’t been observed either. They probably just seem like regular people, like you and me.

Fiddleford: Haha, but a guy like Stanley probably wouldn’t be mistaken, right?

Stanley: Oh, no, I’ve been with a guy before. But you can’t tell, right?

Fiddleford: Hold on.

Fiddleford: Raccoons doing the jitterbug! You’ve been with a guy??

Stanley: Yeah, it was a long time ago. We were in high school, and we broke up ages ago.

Fiddleford: Wow… that’s… unexpected, in every way. I thought you were into women; I even saw you flirting with Susan at the diner. Don’t you like women?

Stanley: I’ve only been with that one guy. But I guess gender doesn’t mean much to me—I’m open either way. Sex is just sex; as long as there’s chemistry, it’s fine.

Fiddleford: So, back in high school, it was just about sex? Then I’m not sure that would classify as a gay relationship since straight men do that kind of thing too—sorry if that’s too blunt.

Stanley: No problem, I don’t mind. We’re just chatting. We did go on dates a lot, so I guess we were pretty serious back then.

Fiddleford: So it was a relationship? You must have faced a lot of pressure back then.

Stanley: Yeah, some.

Fiddleford: Who confessed first?

Stanley thinking: I don’t think… anyone confessed. We just ended up together.

Fiddleford: You didn’t talk about it? How does that even happen?

Stanford: It happened naturally, just going with feelings.

Stanley: Lust, that’s what it was.

Fiddleford: Wait, uh, Ford, you knew about this?

Stanford: I did.

Fiddleford: Well, that makes sense; you’re twins, after all. I guess secrets are hard to keep. So, when did you two break up?

Stanley: Right around graduation. He was a good student and wanted to go to college in another city. I didn’t care for school and wanted to work right away. We couldn’t agree, so we just split up.

Fiddleford: You didn’t try long-distance?

Stanley: You know that never works. Thinking that letters and calls can keep a relationship going—that’s a lie told by cowards who don’t have the courage to break up. Right, Ford?

Stanford: True enough.

Fiddleford: Makes sense. Sounds like you’ve thought about this for a long time. So, were you the one who broke it off?

Stanley: No, it wasn’t me.

Fiddleford: Oh… I’m sorry. That must have been hard on you. My first breakup had me crying with my banjo in my room for three days. How long did you cry?

Stanley: I didn’t cry.

Fiddleford: Really?

Stanley: It’s been a long time. Everyone goes through breakups; I don’t care anymore.

Fiddleford: But it was your first love, and you broke up over something like that. It’s a shame. Have you kept in touch since?

Stanley: Yeah, we have.

Fiddleford: And now that you’re both working, you haven’t tried to—

Stanley: —Oh, no. No way. Getting back with an ex is just plain stupid.

Fiddleford: But you were happy together, weren’t you? Honestly, distance isn’t an insurmountable problem, and you didn’t break up because of a loss of love. If it were me, I’d at least try to see if it could work.

Stanley: You’ve got the wrong idea. We broke up pretty badly. But yeah, I still have some good memories.

Fiddleford: Oh?

Stanley: We used to go to the beach a lot. We didn’t do much, just talked. Well, and other things. The beach was right by our town. It was beautiful when there weren’t people around, so we’d skip class and go there in the afternoons. A few years back, when I passed through our hometown, I went to see it. Now it’s a tourist spot, packed with people.

Fiddleford: Skipping class? Didn’t you say he was a good student? Why would he skip class?

Stanley: Yeah, why indeed?

Fiddleford: Right? I mean, with all the homework, studying, and essays, I was constantly busy back then. How did he manage it?

Stanley: Huh, I never thought about that.

Stanley: Ford, how did you manage it back then?

Stanforddrizzling maple syrup on pancakes: Stayed up late doing homework.

Stanley: Ah, so that’s it—stayed up late doing homework.

Fiddleford: Oh.

Fiddleford: Wait, hold on.

[taylor-on-your-dash]

Sparks Fly is officially 18 years old: history of a song that was almost lost & how fans saved it from being left in the vault

The night of Halloween 2006, a 16-year-old girl named Taylor Swift had just released her first album. To promote her music, she'd go wherever venues would call her to perform. On October 31st, it was Portland, Oregon's turn, where Taylor opened for Jake Owen in a bar called Duke's. Owen, a country singer who also debuted in 2006, was 25 at the time.

We can safely assume that Taylor was happy to meet Jake, as she wrote this on MySpace right after:

"Happy Halloween :-) Current mood: happy Happy Halloween! I’m sitting at the airport in Portland, Oregon.. About to get on a red-eye flight (Oh yes, I just said red-eye. Meaning, all night. This should be interesting…) to Toronto, Canada for another weekend of Rascal Flatts shows. Tonight was awesome. It was a show in Portland at a bar called Duke’s, I opened up for Jake Owen. And a little back-story, I’ve had his album on repeat for the past couple of months.. It’s an amazing album and I literally cannot stop listening to it. I’ve got every line memorized, and if you see me on a plane.. Chances are, I’m listening to some song off that album, at a volume level that’s probably going to cause long-term hearing damage someday. ANYWAY. I got to walk in on his sound check and meet him. Turns out he’s extremely cool, and had bought my album on iTunes. :-) And since I had to leave after one song of his set, he played my favorite song “8 Second Ride” first. Which is another reason why he’s awesome. And just to let everyone know, YES, I did dress up for Halloween. Yes, I stood onstage in an angel costume with huge wings (that really conflicted with my guitar playing). And I convinced my two guitar players Todd and Kevin to put on those little headbands with the devil ears attached. Haha. Oh yeah, it was great. It’s so awesome playing to a crowd and seeing some people who know the words to EVERY SONG! I love that the album is out, and I love that y'all are listening to it. You guys are so awesome, and I really appreciate all of your comments. I love you all so much. Thanks for everything."

The day Speak Now was announced, a known fan at the time revealed said that the song was written on November 2, 2006, so a couple of day after the Portland show.

The most incredible news is that "Sparks Fly" is going to be put on the album. That song is so incredible. Taylor wrote it on November 2, 2006, performed it live in Oroville on May 30, 2007, and now it is finally being released on October 25, 2010. Definitely a dream come true for Taylor fans worldwide! (X)

So on November 2, 2006 Taylor finished the first of the three known versions of a song called Sparks Fly. The first handwritten draft was showcased in a museum:

On April 6, 2007, Taylor premiered the song in her native Reading, Pennsylvania, and then sang it again on May 30th in Sacramento, CA. This version was recorded by the same fan that revelead the writing date and uploaded online, gaining traction among the fanbase.

This live features a very prominent banjo and different lyrics:

“You stand there in front of me” -> “you stood there in front of me”

“Get me with those brown eyes, baby” -> “get me with those green eyes, baby”

“Take your open hand and take me out” -> “reach out open-handed and lead me out”

“Dim the paper lanterns” -> “don’t need more paper lanterns”

“This night is the 31st” -> “my heart is beating fast”

“So let’s make it count now, baby” -> “I could wait patiently”

“I’ll run my fingers” -> “I run my fingers”

“And make no borderlines” -> “gonna strike this match tonight”

“Forgive me when I can’t take in everything you are” -> “and lead me up the staircase”

“You kissed me like you meant it, I swear I saw sparks” -> “I’d love to hate it, but you make it like a firework show”

There was also an additional section: We stood at the gate (and you kiss me) / With the moon on your face / And you’ll kiss me

In December 2007, People Magazine releases a special photoshoot for Taylor's 18th birthday, which features photos of her bedroom, including the infamous Mirror Tracklist, a very early tracklist for her then-unnamed sophomore album. The tracklist inlcudes Sparks Fly as the 6th track.

As we know, Sparks Fly ended up being dropped from Fearless and shelved. We actually don't know whether the song was recorded or not, although some sources say that it was, but ended up being excluded in favour of The Way I Loved You.

Throughout the Fearless era, the fans didn't forget about the live version of Sparks Fly. On June 13th, after Taylor premiered the song Mine, Taylor hosted a 13-hour meet & greet, where one of the most asked questions was what happened to Sparks Fly:

“'Sparks Fly' is a song I wrote a few years ago and played in concert. You guys have learned it and I think like it, which makes me really happy. When we did the 13-hour Meet and Greet at the CMA Fest, there was a comment I got over and over again. You guys were saying, 'So what about 'Sparks Fly?' Is it going to be on the next record? [...] I played that song at maybe one or two shows, and you guys just jumped on it and really made it something that I had to put on the album because you really showed interest in it.”

That week Taylor finished Speak Now, completing the last song (The Story Of Us) on the 16th, but taking into consideration what the fans had asked her, she went back to Sparks Fly, changing the lyrics one last time, especially the second verse:

First verse: You say my name for the first time, baby, and I fall in love in an empty bar -> You’re the kind of reckless that should send me runnin’, but I kinda know that I won’t get far.

Second verse: So reach out open-handed and lead me out to that floor / I don’t need more paper lanterns / Take me down, baby / Bring on the movie score / ‘Cause my heart is beating fast and you are beautiful / And I could wait patiently, but I really wish you would... -> My mind forgets to remind me you’re a bad idea / You touch me once and it’s really somethin’ / You find I’m even better than you imagined I would be / I’m on my guard for the rest of the world / But with you, I know it’s no good / And I could wait patiently, but I really wish you would…

Bridge: Just keep your beautiful eyes on me / Gonna strike this match tonight / And lead me up the staircase / Won't you whisper soft and slow / I’d love to hate it, but you make it like a firework show -> Just keep on keepin’ your eyes on me, it’s just wrong enough to make it feel right / And lead me up the staircase / Won't you whisper soft and slow / I'm captivated by you, baby I’m captivated by you baby, like a fireworks show.

I think that the line "I'm on my guard from the rest of the world" from Sparks Fly being written after "And you figure out why I'm guarded" from Mine is very telling of what Taylor was going through in her personal life.

Once the album was out, the secret code hidden in the song lyrics spelled: “Portland, OR”. The secret message seemed to confirm the theories that had followed the song all summer.

In July 2023, Jake Owen commented on being the ispiration behind the song: “It’s a great song and the speculation has always been funny to me. I’m sure Taylor probably laughs at it all too, but I’m happy to even have my name in the discussion around it. She’s an amazing girl and an amazing artist. It’s been incredible to see how she’s grown as a musician and what a global phenomenon she’s become.”

To me, Sparks Fly is a signature song of hers. Classic Swift story telling, sprinkled with teenage dreams in an euphoric rock production. It's really cool to see how fans played a fundamental role to save this song from oblivion. Can you imagine our reaction if we had got this song in the Fearless Vault or the Speak Now Vault?

[forwhump]

a/n; I have a whole truman show style day in the life thing I did w point that I was trying to find but there’s a lot of creepy weirdness to sort through first to find it & I found this one instead & I feel it’s particularly ugh so <3 couldn’t let it go to waste

enjoy some rambling point introspection :’)

tw/cw: rape, noncon, misgendering, transphobia, dehumanization, kidnapping, captivity, psychological torture, sexual exploitation, degradation, misogyny

creepy whumper, rapist pov, the ramblings of a madman, mentions of a living weapon

“I think I’m in love with you,” Point tells the naked, crying girl shackled in his bunk.

Her wrists are bleeding from how hard she had tried to fight to get them free. She isn’t fighting anymore; he’s tired her out. He likes her tired. She looks up at him with wide, wet eyes and her bare skin is so warm. Quietly, she hiccups, “there’s something really fuckin’ wrong with you.”

She’s got such a stupid accent. A real backwoods aw, shucks kind of accent. She tries to thin it out as much as possible but she hates him so much she can’t control it around him, sometimes, and he knows she hates that, too. He loves it. He loves the accent, too, even if it is stupid as all get out, even if his men make fun of him for it relentlessly. They’re all full of shit — they’d each jumped at the chance to ride the cowgirl, and they each jump, still.

She’s fuckin’ unreal in that lethal, Playboy bunny, girl next door kind of way. A real fantasy kind of way. Blonde bombshell, right? What man in their right mind doesn’t want to fuck a pretty blonde? First time Point had laid eyes on her, sitting on the floor of that trap house, he knew he was gonna keep her. She was special. She had a mouth like Princess Peach and Point could fit both hands around her waist. He was never gonna let her go. Couldn’t.

Then she spoke, and Point had been taken aback by the stupid accent, thick and unexpected, the backwater twang of banjos, denim overalls, and tooth gaps.

The milkmaid braids had been his idea, a branch of two separate, very good ideas. The first was to put her in her place; her accent was stupid, and it was embarrassing, and the hat and the boots just didn’t feel humiliating enough. The second was that she had already gotten under Point’s skin; she spoke, from the floor of that trap house, and he’d just as quickly started harbouring a fantasy of holding the farmer’s daughter by her sweet braids, tied off with ribbon, and fucking her face. Vineyard, the creative bastard, had supplied the milkmaid dress — his niece was twelve, and it had been a Halloween costume. Wren’s a tall girl, long legged, and the dress never fit her, not properly, but it never needed to. They made her wear it for a long time, anyway.

Point has an inkling that might’ve been where his thing for the accent had blossomed, but it’s hard to say. “Oh, darlin’,” he croons, and he’s mocking her. He does it a lot, and doesn’t always do it on purpose but most of the time he does — it makes her flush, and he likes her flushed.

He likes her a lot of ways, really. Tired, flushed. He likes her when she’s crying and when she’s trying to fight him off. He likes her when she’s begging and when she’s sobbing so hard she can’t choke out words. He likes her when she’s barely conscious, all soft and wet and pliant. He likes her when she’s pretending to like him because she knows he’ll kill her dog if she doesn’t. He hasn’t had her in a way, yet, in fact, that he hasn’t liked her; he actually likes the girl in all ways. He doesn’t even like his wife in all ways. It’s why he thinks he might love her — it’s why he knows he does. How typical, right? The handsome jock and the hot blonde. Who could’ve predicted it?

She’s already flushed with crying but she flushes a little darker with humiliation and Point grins.

She definitely isn’t perfect — she gets a bit shrill, and her thing for the dog upsets Point so completely he can’t think about it too hard or he loses chunks of time. But her hair is pretty, and her mouth is pretty, and her cunt is always warm, and she really is beautiful, in that really rare, really impossible kind of way.

Point would keep her all to himself if he could, right here in his bunk. He’d stop applying for leave and she’d stop having to go back to that disgusting doghouse. He’d gotten close, once, but it didn’t last. And that’s not to say he’d stop letting his men use her, either — it’s everybody else. It’s that fuckin’ dog.

He stops grinning and spits in her face.

He doesn’t mean to, not really, but he looks down at her and he sees the way she looks at that thing. Point is being generous every time he calls it a dog, but chunk of meat is just too wordy. Is what it is, though, isn’t it? An ugly chunk of meat a couple of the military’s poindexters had reanimated. She doesn’t look at Point the same way she looks at that thing, and how is that fair? She does it on purpose, just to upset him. He knows she does.

She recoils and he grabs her by the jaw. Holds her still. “Open.” She struggles, trying to lean away, and he presses the back of her head harder into his mattress. “Open,” he demands, and she does on a sob and he spits again, into her mouth. She chokes and he hears himself tell her, “you’re disgusting.” She sobs again and he spits, “stop fucking the dog.”

“I’m not —“

“And stop fuckin’ lying to me,” he snaps.

That’s her worst thing. Worse than the whining, and the fact that she opens her legs for that thing — she’s a liar. She’s always lying.

But fuck, does it almost tie with the fact that she opens her legs for that thing. He hates to think about it but it’s hard not to equate it. Does she get just as wet for him? Does she make the same noises? It would probably make him hate her if he wasn’t in love with her.

“Why can’t you just be a good girl?” He asks, and he doesn’t mean to ask so sincerely. “Why do you have to be a whore?”

She looks up at him from beneath his hand with a hatred that radiates off her like heat. He’s willing to bet she never looks at the dog like that.

He’s also willing to bet the dog doesn’t know. It’s dumb, and he can’t see the girl telling it the truth. It had been wildly protective of her from pretty early into its placement, after however long it had taken the girl to manipulate it into wrapping itself around her little finger. Something about it makes her feel safer, more secure, even if it’s just a cute little lie she tells herself to sleep better sometimes. Even with the added guard dog, she’s still here with Point. She’s still been here with Point for hours.

He doesn’t care for the dog — he thinks it’s a hideous waste of meat and a disgusting fuckin’ science experiment — but he could probably feel bad for it if he let himself. The dog is just so dumb and it has no idea that its little girlfriend is a well fucked whore and if that if Point plays his cards just right he can get her to beg for his cock.

“You could be perfect,” he tells her.

She’s still crying — she’s usually crying — and she’s always doe eyed but when she cries it makes her eyes look a lot bigger and makes her look really scared and really pathetic. Point’s always thought she looks prettiest when she’s scared.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” she tells him, and she enunciates very carefully.

“Shucks,” he mocks, and grins when she flushes, predictably. Fuck, she’s pretty. If nothing else, she’s pretty. It’s almost enough to forget the stupid hillbilly accent and the fact that she fucks dogs.

He puts his hand on her thigh. She tries to flinch away but he holds her there, pressing bruises into her pale thigh in the shape of his fingertips. Vineyard bites her, fucks her up pretty bad sometimes, likes to mark her that way, but Point’s never cared much for biting. Point’s always liked to bruise.

He pushes her thighs apart and the way she trembles in his hands makes him smile. “Stop,” she begs, and the poor girl must be so tired but she makes a valiant attempt to fight him off, anyway. “Please. Please, no more.”

Point clicks his tongue as he settles between her legs. “You know you don’t get to decide when we’re done here, cowgirl,” he says. He holds her down against his sheets, standard issue — black, as opposed to the asset grey. Better thread count, too. The girl should be grateful, he thinks, that he prefers to fuck her here, on the best sheets in their chunk of the district, instead of the shitty sheets in the unit, instead of the concrete of any of the floors.

Point would love, in his wildest fantasies, to get her furlough and fuck her at home. His wife was in charge of the furnishing and all that, because why does he give a shit? But she knocked it out of the park with their sheets. The mattress, too. The whole bed is great, and Point would love to get the girl out of here and fuck her on it for days consecutive. He would love to ruin those sheets. But it would be sticky, ‘cause he’d have to get his wife and all four of the kids out of the house and to stay away from the house at the same time. The neighbourhood is affluent, but that annoying, gossipy sort of affluent that his wife finds so friendly but that makes Point sick and enraged. If he sent his wife and children on vacation, then showed up at the house, with or without a blonde considerably hotter and younger than his wife, they’d gossip. His wife would find out, at the very least, that he took leave and didn’t mention it to her, and that’s a can of worms he doesn’t think he wants to open. That’s the debate, at least.

But it’s an ongoing debate. Every time he’s eligible for leave again, he considers it. Sometimes, in his bunk with this girl, when her skin is especially warm and her cunt is especially wet, he thinks it would be worth it.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he tells her again.

She sobs.

[gogandmagog]

Do you think you can expound on what you meant by LMM showing her hand/Dean being condemned by cat aversion? I was skimming the Emily tag and came across your post. Just curious!

I’m sooo cracking up and embarrassed right now, because while I do fr believe that... I’m not exactly sure I can wholly defend it. Or even remotely ask anyone else to consider getting onboard with that kind of intense inferring. But I’m going to do my best to have a go at it (🥴) and attempt to explain where my head was at with all that, while also letting it be a lesson to myself to not just be out here saying things sometimes, lol.

Also as a small sidenote: I tried to find the post you might be referencing, and I’m all but certain it must’ve been a very old conversation with @no-where-new-hero, but it must’ve also predated my searchable tagging practices because alas, I cannot find it. So… I’m already sorry-in-advance if I veer off into unrelated areas or miss the ‘ask’ mark completely. But I think you mean that at some point I said Maud “showed her hand” early in the Emily series by having Dean Priest say that he wouldn’t keep a cat. I’ll double check, but I think his exact quote is: “I like cats but I never keep one.”

Which, to a casual reader... doesn’t mean a whole lot. Yet when I look back at this, as a non-casual reader, after many re-reads and a little bit of Maud experience, I do kind of now recognise that as a tell. At least it’s a proper LMM red flag. Especially when we experience and feel the depth of cat symbolism and heavy-handed cat presence in the Emily series. And of Emily. How Emily is repeatedly and often assigned a cat-like nature + appearance in the narrative and by other characters in the book. She’s told at school that she has cat ears, and she’s even nicknamed “puss” by Cousin Jimmy. Emily’s Wind Woman purrs. It’s everywhere in Emily. If we advance even a bit further, into broad and ancient symbolism, we can also reflect on timeless and universal cat symbolism… the cat alignment with femininity. The same way dogs are aligned and representative of masculinity.

So when we consider all of this and juxtapose Dean’s statement against Montgomery’s men that did get their girls, I think it speaks even louder. Teddy had Smoke and Buttercup. Barney had Good Luck and Banjo. Cats are so important to Maud and her stories that she has Gilbert (the son of a cat lady, eventual owner of the First Mate, and saviour of Ingleside housecat the Shrimp) mention them in his finally-accepted proposal to Anne. He says, “I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it, a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends—and you!” (Which P.S. is even a veeeery interesting order, in my veeeery-stretched opinion. A cat, then a dog. The feminine before the masculine. You before me, Gilbert says.)

To me... Emily is the cat that Dean will never keep. Much later, when their engagement is dissolving, he says, “… Perhaps that is why I couldn’t keep you.” Which is lowkey full circle. (If you squint.)