#i mean did you think i would do anyone OTHER than paul??

[guardian-angle22]

Tarlos Wedding Celebration Event [Week 13] -> favorite friendship(s)-> (tarlos+paul)

[petew21-blog]

Revenge possession, part 2

"So what is this game called again?" I asked out loud with Devon's voice.

Devon in the back of our mind:"Dead by daylight. You play either as a survivor or the killer. Depending on the role you have to escape or kill all the survivors."

I chuckled a bit:"You don't see how that's ironic?"

Devon was silent. "I'm so sorry, man. Jesus, I didn't think this through. Haha. Well... you should be good in this game right?"

Me:"Not really. I kinda didn't even know I was being hunted. Your parents just picked me up and then tortured me in the woods. I didn't have much of a chance to even run."

Devon:"Oh... I'm so sorry for that, man. My parents are horrible people."

Me:"Yeah. And I know they killed much more people than just me. That's why it needs to stop"

Devon:"So are you sure that killing them would be the best revenge for all these years of their murder spree?"

Me:"What else can I do? It's not like I had much of a choice. Few days ago I didn't even have a body. Now I co-share yours. Yeah, stealing their sons body is good revenge too, but you're a good person. And I don't want to take over your life."

Devon:"Not what I was aiming for. I honestly love having you here with me. You're like a second voice/brother/best friend inside of me. Oh shit. I just figured. I keep calling you bro. What's your real name?"

Me:"Paul. Took you long to ask, man. Not cool"

Devon:"Sorry, haha. So... Paul. You're like 40 now, right?"

Me:"I would be if your parents didn't kill me. But I died when I was 21 like you are now. So my mind basically stayed 21 I suppose. Except for roaming the country I didn't have much fun through all these years. These past few days as you, just chilling here, playing video games, jerking off and talking to you is the most fun I had over these 20 years."

Devon took control over his body to let go of the controler and to flex his biceps. The sweat hitting his nose.

Me:"What are you doing? I thought we were gonna play?"

Devon:"Nah, just reminding you what body you're in"

Devon:"Look at me man. I have beautiful abs, massive arms. These thighs could crush a melon between them. I appreciate that you picked me and that you like my body, but you gotta do something about this. We gotta go have fun. With another living being."

Me:"Devon... I really am happy how you treat me in your body, but... I don't think we have the same type of dating pool"

Devon:"I don't care whoever you fuck. I'm straight, or atleast I think I am, but very accepting. And if my man inside of me wants to fuck some handsome man, I will be more than happy to help you out. Bros gotta help each other"

Me:"But it's gonna be your body, man."

Devon:"So? You could do much worse with my body and you didn't. Getting fucked or fucking someone in the ass is not so bad."

Me:"Ok? So what place do you suggest?"

Devon:"Gym. We can show everyone what this body can do. Lot of people observe me there, so you can pick whoever you desire"

We arrived to the gym. So many hot and sexy people in sight. Devon took control to do his normal routine. It sucks that I could also have a body like this, but back in the day I wanted to see the world. I wanted to be myself in a world that hates my kind. Twenty years later, the world is so much more accepting. It's not ideal, but wow. How things gave changed

I still can't believe that Devon let's me stay in his body. I mean, look at him. He could be anything, have anyone. And yet this hot piece of meat is depressed with his easy life, being alone most of the time. I guess that's what happens when your serial killer parents move your family every now and then. You don't have any friends and those that you did might already be dead by their hand. How horrible... I honestly can't wait to see them. To look them in their face. With their son's face and to kill them. I hope Devon will forgive me. I know he says he wants to stop them, but it's his parents. I just have to make sure that he will not stop me when the time comes

Devon was just finishing up, when a cute twink approached us.

The guy:"Hey, I hope you don't mind that I was watching you"

Devon:"Nah, it's ok man. You need a hand with lifting?"

The guy smiled. "Oh I do need a hand, I just don't know If I asked the right person"

Devon sat down, looking all confused:"That depends if..."

I stopped Devon mid sentence. "I think that's a cue for me to take over, ok?"

Devon now in the back of my mind:"Sorry man, I usually don't respond to guys hitting on me. Go on. Have fun"

I smiled at the guy and casually finished the sentence

We headed to the showers. The owners must be probably sick with all these guys hooking up here. But we didn't care. We made out passionately. The twins was all over my muscles, as I would be in his place too. He was a bit smaller. That gave me a sense of dominating him.

I stopped and smiled at the guy. "I... just gotta let you know that I am a virgin"

Devon:"What!!! Dude, you never had sex with anyone?"

The guy looked at me from top to bottom. "You? If good looking people like you are virgins, then I have no idea how world works."

I chuckled nervously. It was true. I was 21 when I died, but back then it was much harder to date a find gay guy. Now you can just download Grindr and in a few minutes you got yourself a guy in your bedroom

Twink:"Well in that case we can go to your place and have some fun there. This isn't a very nice place to have your first time, don't you think"

I just smiled and nodded in approval

We were now in Devon's messy room. The guy was really shocked to see such a straight man cave, but didn't say a word. We made out. He took off my shirt soaked in sweat from gym. His lips now kissed my neck and went to over my pecs, down the middle to my waist band. He took my hard dick into his hand, squeezed hard and looked me deep into my eyes. His look was so full of lust, yet I could tell it was superficial. This guy isn't looking for romance. He just wants to be fucked hard. So let's give it to him

I took a bit of control of the moment. I grabbed him by the neck. Turned him around and pressed him against the wall. He was now moaning in pleasure as I was rubbing my hard dick hidden beneath the layers of my clothes against his ass. I was still holding him, choking him.

I pulled of my shorts and his just low enough to get my dick in there. I wanted to push it right in there. As hard as I could

Devon suddenly screamed out from the back of his mind:"Condom dude!!!"

I left the guy, moanjng against the wall, reaching out to the condom on the shelf. I was struggling to find which side to pick to put it on my dick

Twink:"Wait. Let me" it was obvious he jas done it a few times. The condor was on in a matters of seconds. "Do you have any lube?"

Devon intervened again:"Top drawer. Give him more attention, man. You're making it all about yourself"

"Shut up" I said out loud as a response to Devon, but the guy looked confused. "Oh sorry, not you. I'm just nervous. I have lube right here."

The guy went on Devon's bed on his back. His clothes were now gone and his ass was welcoming my dick. His legs wide open.

I pressed lightly my dick with a ridiculous ammount of lube on top.

It went smoothly so I tried to went all the way. This seemed to hurt the twins. "Hold your horses. I'm good, but not that good. A bit slower, cowboy."

I went in slowly. The pleasure got to Devon too. The way this guys ass was tight around the head of our dick was sending our minds to heaven.

I picked up the pace. The twink was moaning in pleasure and in pain at the same time. I grabbed him by the next to choke him. My other arm pressing his thigh.

Twink:"Harder!" I thought I was going as hard as possible, but I didn't think he could take it much more

Twink:"Harder!!!"

Devon:"Oh, jesus. Let me do it" Devon took over. I was in the back of our mind again. Still feeling everything.

Devon was like a beast, but the twink was really enjoying it.

I could feel all the cum building up. Ooh there's gonna be tons of cum.

Devon was biting his lower líp and furiously pounding this guy's ass. Sure, "Straight" my ass.

Devon:"I'm cumming!!!"

Twink:"Fill me! I want it all"

Devon shot out the stream of cum into the condom. The wave of pleasure was so overwhelming. So much, that I lost control for a moment. I didn't know what was happening.

I opened my eyes. Still as Devon. Good. But I was back in control. But I was alone here. I couldn't feel Devon

"DEVON?!?"

Twink:"Right here. You pushed my soul out of my body, dude. If the guy here wasn't as welcoming you would have me erased or something"

Me:"I'm so sorry. I didn't think that would happen."

Devon:"It's fine. This guy's soul is asleep or maybe gone? I don't know. But I can't hear him now. Dude! I could feel my body's orgasm and his orgasm at the same time. I can assure you, that this is definitely the best I'll ever feel. So overwhelming."

Me:"Shit, dude. We gotta figure out how to get you put of there. Or you might be stuck"

Devon:"What if we wait for a bit? I kinda wanna try having sex with my body."

Me:"Kinky. You wanna get pounded too?"

Devon:"Guess I'm not so straight anymore, right?"

After our first fucking session, Devon passed out from all the sex. We still didn't know where this guy's soul was, but we would figure that out soon. I was just happy that I was finally alive. And I even have a boyfriend now? If that's what I can call Devon. Not to put labels on our relationship or anything

I grabbed the first pair of shorts from the floor I could find. Still sweaty from the sex, I headed to the kitchen to get myself a drink of water.

I was interrupted by a dark figure in the corner of the room

"Hello, son"

I was full of rage. But I can't fuck it up now. If I kill him, I won't know where his mom is and that would take me another decade to find her.

"Hey, dad. How was your holiday"

"Oh wonderful. Rome is your mother's favourite place to visit"

I tried to act as much as possible. Devon was in his room in a wrong body, so that wouldn't help me.

"Did you go to Colosseum this time?"

"Oh, we sure did." The father responded. But in the matter of seconds his expression changed. He was now holding a gun pointed at me

"What are you doing, dad?!"

"Devon knows we went to Bahamas"

Fuck. So he knew all along that I'm not Devon. But how?

"Me and my wife found out that the folk like you, who want to have your revenge for what we did, come back as ghosts to make our lives a living hell."

"So I'm not the first one?"

"Hahaha. Of course you're not. The first one came when Devon was 2 years old. Of course he doesn't remember, but that was a nasty one. All the paranormal stuff. We didn't know what we were dealing with back then. But now, oh we are used to deal with you. But possessing Devon is a first. Some possessed us and tried to kill us, but obviously failed."

"How can you tell that I'm not him? Besides the question."

"Oh it's an aura thing. Once you have the experience and a good guidance, you can just tell when a soul isn't in their rightful place."

"Now, tell me. Did Devon put up a lot of fight? Your answer will change the course of your torture."

"Devon is ok. He's in the body of the guy downstairs. It was an accident"

"Sure it was. That would make sure that we couldn't kill you or him, right? We're not so stupid, mister. Although I will not enjoy killing my son, there is no other choice."

"If you kill me, I will go after you even more. I have for the past 20 years and I will even after you die. My soul will not rest until you burn in hell"

"Sure you can do that, but it will take you some time to get out of this thing."

He was holding a wooden object with symbols

"What is that thing?"

"That mister, is your prison. It will bind you inside, until it breaks, or someone opens it on purpose. Which happens rarely if you ask me."

"You're doing a big mistake. Devon is in his room in a different body. Let him atleast get his body back."

"I can't take that chance. Me and my wife have a life to live up to and we won't stop just because our son got himself in some trouble and can't handle it."

"It's your son! You would kill him just so you can continue your killing spree?"

"Oh, definitely. Having a child is a great thing, but taking a life. That's something you won't ever forget about. The control it gives you."

"You're sick. No parent would ever do this to their child"

From the hallway a second voice spoke:"Oh these two are a chatty couple, right honey? So chatty chatty. But we need to hurry up, so get on with this" the mother said towards her husband

I could feel a horrible pain in my chest. Feelings very similar to the ones I felt 20 years ago. This couple was killing me again

"Sorry Devon. We couldn't have done anything" father said

"Devon hates you too!" I screamed out

"You're talking too much" and then nothing.

I don't know for how long this continued. I don't even know what they did with Devon's beautiful body. How they got rid of it.

Soon I started to feel walls around me. Walls? As a ghost I wouldn't be able to. Except if this is their prison that they were talking about.

I opened my eyes. There was only darkness. Nothing else. I looked around and on the other side of my prison was someone sitting, crying.

I got up to approach this person. He looked up

It was Devon. He was crying

"Paul! They killed me. My own mother slit my throat. I told her it's me. But she just killed me and trapped me into thus thing."

"I'm so so sorry, Devon. I never wanted any of this. I wanted revenge for them. But they were ready. They knew. Your father didn't listen to me too. He didn't care. I told him about your soul. But they are more sadistic then I thought"

"Paul, I'm dead. My parents killed me. My OWN PARENTS!"

"Devon, they are horrible people. And we will get our lives back. Maybe not our old lives, but we will. But first we have to get out of here. We're gonna get through this together. Ok?"

Devon collapsed into my arms. I was just glad that I could hold someone even if I was a ghost now. We were gonna get out of here, but I had no idea how

Outside of the ghost trap, the world went by.

Devon's father held the trap tightly as he watched his old house burn. His wife held her head on his shoulder.

"Ahhh, I think I might miss Devon. He gave our life some order"

"He limited us. We couldn't ve ourselves all the time. Now we can. What do you say we go pick up some hitchhiker?"

"Ohhhh, that's a lovely idea. Get rid of that box, it gives me the creeps"

And as the two of them were laughing while leaving, the box was sinking deeply into the river below the bridge until some human would find it.

If Paul and Devon would know what was happening to then right now, they would be devastated.

[ellie-r2]

Book Curtis Brothers hcs

because I won't leave you guys hanging just because it got second place

Darry:

-He'll do anything for his brothers even if he hates the thing. (first scene in the book when Pony says he could've just called Darry to watch the movie even though Darry hates them)

-He tries really hard to be gentle when physically comforting people but he's always too rough without meaning to be.

-Genuinely believed Ponyboy hated him for a good while and it would actually keep him up at night at times which added to his stress levels.

-Always makes sure the house is stocked up with first aid supplies for the boys.

-He asks Soda to talk to Pony for him to make sure Pony knows he loves him because he thinks if he were to do it he'd just say the wrong thing and it would go bad.

-The five days Pony was gone were the worst of Darry's life even more so than the death of his parents because to him at least then he got the news the same day but for Ponyboy he had nothing letting him know if he truly was okay.

-Says he would've been okay if Ponyboy never spoke to him again after the slap because he would've deserved it but in reality he wouldn't know how to live with it.

-Hated when people would confuse him for being his dad's brother instead of son because he hated that people thought he looked older when he's only 20. (which doesn't get better now that he's taking care of his brothers)

-Technically this is canon but adding it anyway he is insecure about the fact he didn't get to go to college because he did want a chance to leave tulsa and pursue a career in football.

-Stays by Pony's door until he falls asleep whenever he wakes up screaming from a nightmare to ease his nerves.

-Only irons Soda's shirts because he knows even if Soda has time he won't do it himself.

-When Ponyboy was in denial of Johnny's death he and Soda made sure no one ever mentioned anything about Johnny around Pony.

-He asked Tim to have Curly tell Ponyboy stories about reformatory to scare him from being sent there.

-Used to consider wanting to reconcile with Paul so he'd still have other friends outside the gang. After the rumble happened he stopped thinking about it.

-Apart from his brothers the person he's closest to in the gang is Two-Bit since they're closest in age and he's the only one he truly trusts to leave alone with Pony.

Soda:

-Used to hate being the only blond one of his brothers until his parents died because he liked having his mom's hair color.

-Ever since basically moving into Pony's room because of the nightmares he now uses his old room as a storage space or offers it to the gang if they want to sleep on a bed instead of the couch.

-Will defend his brothers to the ends of the earth over literally anyone no matter who it is (I mean according to Pony the only time he was ever mad at Steve was when he said something about Darry).

-Took everything in him not to tell Darry that he suspected that Dally knew where Pony and Johnny were and almost slipped by wanting to ask him to proofread the letter.

-Slept in his room the days Pony was gone because it didn't feel right to him to sleep in there without Pony but he still didn't sleep well anyway.

-Plays football with Darry even if he's not the best at it just so Darry can still play his favorite sport.

-Contrary to popular belief while he is named the the crier of the brothers it is actually Ponyboy but he lets himself be called that because he knows Pony doesn't like being seen as "weak".

-Even though Sandy cheated on him and everything he couldn't find it in himself to hate her not even a little bit.

-Despite what Pony may think about comparing Soda and Steve to Bob and Randy, Soda would actually be the one to fight even harder and be angry if Steve were the one to die while Steve would be the one to not fight.

-Will gives massages to Darry when Darry works long nights at work because while his brother won't admit it, he doesn't take care of himself as much as he should.

-Misses the days when Darry was just his brother and not guardian because while he gets let off more than Pony the change in relationship between himself and Darry is still noticeable to him.

-Will cling to anything or anyone that is near him when sleeping.

Ponyboy:

-Is quite literally the little brother of the gang even though he thinks it's Johnny. (Everyone including Steve will drop everything for him).

-(pre book but after their parents died) Desperately craved attention/affection from Darry but didn't know how to ask for it.

-He has drawn every member of the gang + Curly but hasn't shown them any of the drawings. His favorite to draw was Dally.

-For the purly/papercut fans (me). Pony is the only one who can keep Curly from getting into too much trouble. (Like we know from Tim that Curly has talked about Pony and even calls him a good kid.)

-After Johnny and Dally's deaths he hangs up his drawings of them in his room. He also keeps Dally's jacket in his room even if he never wears it.

-Tried to finish reading Gone with the Wind after Johnny died but couldn't.

-Has nightmares of him being the one who was stuck under the beam instead of Johnny and being the one who died and wakes up terrified because he truly thinks it would have been better if it was him.

-Makes Darry go into the room with him at doctor's appointments and looks at Darry whenever they ask him a question. He'll also clutch Darry or Soda's arm because he hates being there.

-Quit smoking or is in the process of trying to quit post book because of guilt of potentially starting the fire and because it's not good for him being on the track team and all.

For all 3:

-Darry and Soda go to ALL of Pony's track events.

-Post book they all try to have one day of the week where they all do something together for the other. For Darry, Pony and Soda play football with him. For Pony, they go watch a movie together. For Soda, Darry lets him take them out racing but sits in the back with Pony to keep him safe if anything.

-When they were younger Darry would give shit to anyone who would say anything about his younger brothers having weird names. While Pony and Soda would give Darry shit saying he's the one with a weird name. "seriously DARREL"

-They all sleep in Darry's room together the night before if they know the social worker is coming in fear of separated.

[dyns33]

His Dark Sun

Time for me to post a bit more about Feyd Rautha.

"I dreamed of you."

First strange sentence from her betrothed when they met. Not really what Y/N expected from a Harkonnen, but not from anyone either. There were probably few people in the universe who would have dreamed of marrying her.

Children born under a dark sun were not highly regarded in most cultures. Bad omen, the certainty of something bad coming.

Absurd, according to the Bene Gesserit, who had often repeated that this had no impact on genetic heritage.

This kind of belief could serve them, like disrupting their plans.

This was almost the case following Y/N’s birth. Her parents, from one of the last great families of the empire, were afraid of her. They even wondered if it would not be wiser to kill her immediately, or if that would not risk bringing even more misfortune to them.

But they were also afraid of the witches, who ordered that they not touch the girl. She could be very useful in the future.

This was certain when Lady Jessica gave a son to Duke Leto Atreides. It was planned that she would only give him daughters, one of whom would marry one of the Harkonnen descendants, to ensure peace between the two families, but also for more confused projects.

Since it was not possible to marry young Paul to the Baron's heir, a new wife had to be found, because the lineage had to be assured.

The people of Giedi Prime worshiped their beloved Black Sun, so they were not the type to think that those born under an one were a problem. All their children were like this.

Under other circumstances, parents might have been reluctant to marry their daughter to a Harkonnen. They didn't really have a good reputation.

But at the same time, they remained an important family, one of the richest and most powerful in existence. In addition to forming an interesting alliance, they also allowed their clan to get rid of Y/N.

They could do whatever they wanted with her, even kill her, it would no longer be their problem the moment she left their planet.

As the eldest, it would have made sense for her to be given to Glossus Rabban, the Beast. But Baron Vladimir had favored his younger brother as his heir, and so she came to this dark city praying that Feyd Rautha Harkonnen was not as terrible as the rumors said.

He was more handsome than she expected. Anyway, as handsome as a Harkonnen could be, with no hair, eyebrows or eyelashes, his skin pale and his eyes icy.

Calm, polite, he advanced towards her before his uncle or brother could speak, making it clear that he wanted no one between him and his future wife.

"I've dreamed of you. Many times, since I was young." He said, kissing her hand to welcome her, his voice trailing slightly. “I suspected a witch.”

"I did not follow the teachings of the Bene Gesserit."

"I know."

The Harkonnens did not like witches. They had little esteem for their order and only respected them out of political concern, seeking every means to circumvent their authority.

It had been a surprise to everyone that the Na Barron would agree to a marriage they had orchestrated.

But Feyd Rautha was a man of honor, intelligent, ready for anything. On top of that, he had been intrigued by this story of black sun. He had inquired, he had seen a portrait of Y/N, and then declared that she was his.

Y/N had never dreamed of the Na Baron, and his attitude seemed strange, frightening.

She didn't believe in destiny. This was just another legend used by the Bene Gesserit for their own gain, nothing more.

But the Na Baron looked at her with amazed eyes, convinced that she was special.

It was very proud that he killed several prisoners in her honor in the arena, tearing out the heart of the strongest to offer it to her with fervor in front of the cheering crowd, delighted by the spectacle and the discovery of their Na Baroness.

Secretly, she thought that he could kill her like this the day he understood that there was nothing special about her, despite everything he might believe.

Y/N tried to make him understand it on their wedding night, afraid of what he was going to want to do while being convinced that she could accept anything from him.

"I am not as strong as my noble husband. I know that you have… You have particular tastes. If your expectations of me were too high…"

“Everything will be perfect.”

"Husband…"

"Say my name. Without shaking. My wife doesn't have to be afraid of me."

"… Feyd."

He didn't know how to be gentle, that was obvious, but for her Feyd Rautha did his best. At every nervous reaction from Y/N, he stopped for a moment to contemplate her, checking if she was just anxious because she was ignorant, or if she really didn't like what he was doing.

All her life, she had been mistreated, by her family, by other nobles, by her people. They were too afraid of the curse to touch her, but she had suffered greatly.

She never would have thought that the first person to treat her with tenderness would be a Harkonnen.

“No more tears for my Na Baroness.” whispered her husband, kissing her.

He didn't talk about it, but Y/N guessed that they had a past with similarities. It was common knowledge that young Feyd had been taken by his uncle to be raised on Giedi Prime, rather than staying with their parents.

In gratitude for this sacrifice, Glossus had killed their father, and his brother had killed their mother.

The slanderers claimed that they had acted on the Baron's orders, or with the aim of securing his favors.

But Y/N knew. She knew this bloody, dark desire that she had suppressed for a long time while standing next to her sleeping parents' bed. It would have been easy to slit their throats and be freed.

Feyd remained a prisoner, and not being able to kill his jailer, he attacked those who had allowed him to put him in a cage. Revenge, pure and simple.

Everyone had heard of the Baron's love for children. Why wouldn't he have loved his own nephew ?

He didn’t talk about it and Y/N didn’t force him to talk about it. Before each meeting with his uncle, he took her hand as if to give himself courage, and afterwards he avoided her for hours, days, because he did not wish to soil her.

Either he took out his rage in the training room and the arena, or he went to see his concubines.

He would have killed them all if Y/N had asked him to, just as he would have killed everything that had made her suffer.

But she saw that he cared about these creatures, obedient, without judgment, whom he could torture as he pleased knowing that that was all they were waiting for. There were things he couldn't do with his wife. He didn't want it, and neither did she.

So the Na Baron could continue to have his fun, while making sure his wife was happy.

The only time Y/N dreamed of Feyd, he was on a yellow planet. Sand everywhere, the sun beating down, and blood. A lot of blood. Bad omen.

Y/N could have said nothing. It was just a dream after all, nothing more, as all of Feyd's dreams meant nothing either, but he had been good to her, and she felt she had to talk to him.

He looked at her for a long time in silence, before nodding.

"Witches say there isn't just one path. Only possibilities. I saw us, ruling Giedi Prime, side by side, with our children. Your smile being the only thing that gave color at this place."

"… You think I saw your death."

"On Arrakis. My uncle just gave it to me. Rabban has failed, I must restore order there."

"It was very blurry. Feyd, I…"

"I will be careful, my Na Baroness. My sun. Now that I know of this possibility, I will be careful."

If she hadn't told him, no doubt he would have died with the Baron and his brother. Y/N could have said nothing, and she would have been freed from the Harkonnens, sent home where her family only wanted her dead, deciding to become the Baroness, or running away, far away.

But she had made a choice, and her husband was very honored by it. If she wanted him to live, then he would live, even if it meant some sacrifice.

He hadn't seen himself as emperor in his dreams, although he wouldn't have minded.

When a champion was asked to face Paul Atreides, Muad Dib, it was terribly tempting.

But he thought of Y/N, he thought of the dreams, and he bowed, knowing what awaited him if he accepted the fight.

In response to the emperor calling him a coward, he sneered that the old man should only take a sword and fend for himself.

Just before his uncle's death, Feyd had several tons of spices evacuated, to ensure a significant stock, while sending a message to the other great houses concerning the Imperium's betrayal of the Atreides.

Muab Dib had looked at him as if he were crazy, then something had changed in his face, a revelation, and all traces of judgment disappeared.

"… You dreamed too." he whispered, his face turning slightly towards a young Fremen girl, but his eyes not leaving Feyd, before quoting him. “Your pet.”

"My wife." the now Baron corrected him with a growl, refusing to let the Atreides compare Y/N to this savage he was going to betray to marry the Emperor's daughter. “My Baroness, who is waiting for me.”

"For her sake, I will let you go."

“Wise decision, because if you try to hold me back, I will cut your throat.”

And if they both knew the outcome of a fight for power, it was not certain that Feyd would not be capable of killing the young Duke with the motivation of finding the woman of his dreams again.

Both clever, none of them took the risk.

[eightdoctor]

my eda recs :) for anyone interested in getting into this series

i am prefacing this post with the note that i am an avid completionist and generally dislike telling people to skip certain books unless it's a john peel novel or placebo effect. however i understand telling people to read 74 novels is not at all accessible and i need you all to read. these books. please. please

this post is going to be long as shit i know it so i'm putting it ↓ here. books that can be skipped because theyre a bit shit will be colored red, ones that you Can Skip but are good/have some important character or plot bits in will be orange, and ones that are sooo good and necessary and the best books ever will be green. unfortunately i think a lot of the ones colored orange should be colored green but i know restraint. i can stay my hand. kind of

also i should say that i primarily read these for the characters - the plots themselves come second. so lots of my opinions come from the standpoint of which books have good characterizations. basically some of the ones that i color green would probably be skippable if any normal person were reading them but i'm insane!! and this is my list so fuck you!!!

The Eight Doctors by Terrance Dicks: ah my color trichotomy has bitten me in the ass on the first book. because truth be told i still haven't finished this one (nor have i really felt the need to yet), yet it introduces the first companion in the series, sam jones, and contains some other entertaining parts like the doctor getting caught with cocaine. as far as introductory books go it's meh

Vampire Science by Kate Orman and Jonathan Blum: this book. i truly can't sing my praises any louder than i already have. orman & blum took the character of the eighth doctor as portrayed by paul mcgann in a few measly minutes of screen time into a fully fleshed out, compelling and complex character. if you're a fan of the eighth doctor but aren't interested in reading all of the EDAs you have to read this one at the Very Least. it begins, as all good stories do, in a gay bar. it features vampire squirrels, the doctor with kittens, and the doctor infodumping on the beauty of science in a speech? conversation? that still touches me to this day, four years after i first read it.

The Bodysnatchers by Mark Morris: this book is Gross, and i mean that positively. mark morris held nothing back when describing how disgusting and putrid london was in the 1800s (he's primarily a horror writer, and that comes through rather clearly in this book). i genuinely enjoyed this novel a lot, but i know it's not for everyone because again, it's quite gory and disgusting

Genocide by Paul Leonard: don't you just want to see the doctor in a sun hat? being tortured for weeks on end? don't you want to examine his morality in termsof what species he thinks needs to be saved or doomed? jo grant is there

War of the Daleks by John Peel: fuck john peel all my homies hate john peel. for some reason all his books in this range contain daleks and it’s like…why. get some creativity. everyone else did. bitch

Alien Bodies by Lawrence Miles: this novel is So Good. it introduces faction paradox, the war in heaven plotline, humanoid tardises, and a couple of the most interesting & fun side characters in the whole range (homunculette and marieeee <3 cousin justineeee… aaaaaaahh). I shan’t spoil the entire conceit of the story but just know it’s. insane and fucked up and so so funny

Kursaal by Peter Anghelides: this is just a solid doctor who story, really. i wouldn’t call it imperative to the overarching plot of the novels (as tenuous as it is early on), but it’s an enjoyable enough read. it’s about an ancient race of alien werewolves underneath a theme park. what more can i say

Option Lock by Justin Richards: i recall enjoying the doctor and sam’s characterization in this one, and the story is like doctor strangelove meets, well, doctor who. it’s skippable, but i had fun reading it, and that’s really all you can ask for

Longest Day by Michael Collier: this is the start of the arc where sam gets separated from the doctor. actually the most tense and stressed i’ve been reading the edas was reading this and the next three books. it’s so dire, but it’s so so good, with incredible character moments from sam and the doctor. plus you have anstaar, nashaad with his metal legs, and some really fucked up body horror involving Time messing with people’s existences and driving ppl mad and stuff. people tend to either love this one or hate it from what i’ve seen, and i’m solidly in the former category. would definitely recommend 

Legacy of the Daleks by John Peel: ughhhhhhhh… ughhhhjhhhhhh i guess you have to read this one. i guess you have to. it’s definitely an improvement on his last book but still. daleks again john? really? whateverrrrr.. some important stuff happens to susan is in this one though. and the master as well. so if you care about either of those characters you should read this i suppose

Dreamstone Moon by Paul Leonard: a general rule of the edas is paul leonard always writes excellent books (in my opinion, anyway), and this is not the exception. sam and the doctor are still separated, but they’re in the same place and keep missing each other and its like UGGHHHH!!! UGHHH!!! but you have interesting commentary on capitalism’s exploitation and effective revolutionary action and all that stuff. also aloisse is an incredible character and i love her

Seeing I by Kate Orman and Jonathan Blum: HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!! GOOD LIRD!!!!!!!!!!! kate and jon do it again, those crazy bastards. you know how every author loves torturing the shit out of eight? these guys take that and run with it in the opposite direction, asking the question what if the worst thing the doctor could go through isn’t agonizing torture, but rather just a lack of enrichment in his enclosure? what if he had to stay locked up in one building for three years and couldn’t escape for the life of him? meanwhile sam, now a refugee with no social support (as she technically shouldn’t exist in this time and location), has to deal with homelessness, and has to decide whether it’s better to have a stable, yet soulless corporate job - or do something that’s meaningful and benefits society. she’s at her best in this book for sure

Placebo Effect by Gary Russell: throws up. don’t read this because it is actually rhe worst book in the whole range and i’m not joking. sorry gary you’re a nice guy but i thought the arguments against evolution that went on for like 3 pages were extremely egregious and also plain wrong. you may look at this book and think “oh cool! Stacy and ssard from the comics are in this one!” well they’re there for like a paragraph and don’t do shit. so

Vanderdeken's Children by Christopher Bulis: really fun novel that’s pretty much the epitome of the classic doctor who question “wouldn’t that be really fucked up and crazy?” it also established the fact that the doctor told sam his real name which is really fun and awesome

The Scarlet Empress by Paul Magrs: much like paul leonard, paul magrs Never disappoints. this book is just so fucking fun. in essence, it’s a road trip story. they drive across a planet listening to abba and visiting lots of kooky places and picking up lots of wacky characters. it also deconstructs gender and self-identity and what it means to be an individual. a cyborg and a giant spider get lesbian married. aewsome 👍

The Janus Conjunction by Trevor Baxendale: i really debated on making this one skippable, i did. because while it doesn’t continue any of the established plots or themes or whatever, it does show the doctor breaking the laws of time to save his companion’s life, and that’s really cool we love that. there’s a lot of fun body horror too if you go for that sort of thing. and more giant spiders but these ones are different 

Beltempest by Jim Mortimore: ok honestly? i didn’t vibe with this one. i know some people really liked it but i felt as if the characterization was Off. some wacky wild stuff happens to sam though

The Face-Eater by Simon Messingham: <-doesn’t remember much of this one cuz i was high while reading it. i think it was a solid story though? 

The Taint by Michael Collier: yayyyyyyyy fitz is hereeeee my babyboy… lots of people don’t vibe with this one but i do. because i love fitz and everything he’s in and him and the doctor are such bastards to each other in the beginning it’s great. their repartee is genuinely so entertaining and really elevates the book for me, even if the plot itself is a bit mediocre. either way even if you don’t like it you have to read it because it introduces fitz. so there

Demontage by Justin Richards: telling you to skip this one would be a disservice. because technically it Is skippable, but it has some absolutely hilarious moments that really drive home the fact that fitz is Cringe. they’re on a space casino called vega in the far future and fitz dresses in a (from everyone else's perspective) old-fashioned tuxedo. he smokes indoors and everyone gives him nasty looks because he’s in the future and no one smokes inside. he asks for his cocktails shaken not stirred and the bartender fucking hates him. and he also accidentally gets involved in an assassination plot. but i suppose if you must skip it then go ahead… 

Revolution Man by Paul Leonard: mr leonard does it again. this is an excellent novel for both companions that begins with sam and the doctor engaging in leftist discourse with an anarchist and ends with the world almost ending. it happens.

Dominion by Nick Walters: you have to read this one just for the doctor’s first gay kiss. sorry i don’t make the rules. also it  just features a neat concept imo and has a great moment where the doctor punches a pillow in frustration and then sadly apologizes to it

Unnatural History by Kate Orman and Jonathan Blum: this book is one that i think every doctor who fan who’s ever gotten mad about canon not making sense should be forced at gunpoint to read. it’s a novel that’s essentially one big metacommentary on doctor who canon & why it Doesn’t Matter At All, Actually; the doctor was birthed and he was loomed and both are equally true and untrue. also features the iconic paragraph calling the doctor a (verbatim) “backrub slut”, as well as wrapping up the ongoing arc with sam jones hinted at in alien bodies and a few other books in a way that’ll have you side eyeing moffat very suspiciously

Autumn Mist by David A. McIntee: this one’s pretty good and has a couple great moments (fitz calling himself james bond, for one), but is, i think, ultimately skippable unless youre a world war 2 buff

Interference Books 1 & 2 by Lawrence Miles: nothing i can say will adequately put into words what these two novels made me feel, you hear me? absolutely nothing. good fucking god. jesus christ. holy fuck.. if i sat here listsing all the important and iconic moments in these books we’d be here all shitting day and this post is already obscenely long. read these 2 books. then read them again. 

The Blue Angel by Paul Magrs: ok i know i just said this but HOOOOOO..WHOA NELLY! the blue angel is easily in my top 5 edas. it literally heavily features a canon domestic au wherein the doctor is a “middle-aged gay man”. fitz says he wants to get laid by the doctor. the doctor’s mother is a mermaid. there’s off-brand spirk. someone turns into a giant squid. literally this book is so good they wrote a screenplay adaptation of it and a spinoff short story that you should also read

The Taking of Planet 5 by Simon Bucher-Jones and Mark Clapham: you’re going to be hearing this a lot from me but we Are entering the part of the series where it really takes off and gets sooo fucking good. anyway this novel is sooo fucking good and quite important to the plot and establishes stuff about the war in heaven and gallifrey so. read it. also there's ELDRITCH BEASTS!

Frontier Worlds by Peter Anghelides: i can’t tell you to skip this one because it’s so good. fitz goes by the alias frank sinatra & also talks like him for a solid portion of the book. we get excellent compassion moments. great doctor moments (including that Hot and Sexy dream he has about the tardis!) and all in all it’s a wonderful story

Parallel 59 by Stephen Cole and Natalie Dallaire: lots of stuff happens in this one, especially to fitz. by that i mean it gets referenced quite a bit later so i would recommend if you want to catch all the references. also a woman worked on this one so you already know eight is going to be written phenomenally and very sensually. 

The Shadows of Avalon by Paul Cornell: rather important development happens to compassion in this book (understatement). but it’s also a really good story in general with lots of memorable bits - paul cornell wrote one EDA and did a great job and then vanished from the range. it also has the BRIGADIER and his ROMANCE with MAB the BIG BOSOMED CELTIC QUEEN so like.. read it?? 

The Fall of Yquatine by Nick Walters: a pretty important thing happens to compassion in this one too (another understatement). also withnail & i references galore, fitz has a bad time (has he had a Good time for the past few books? questionable!), and the doctor spends time with a gay baker/contraband parts dealer

Coldheart by Trevor Baxendale: you could skip this one but why would you even want to? it’s literally one of compassion’s best stories and has plenty of excellent doctor and companion moments. it’s just fun and engaging and an outstanding doctor who story. and, as always, fitz is effortlessly cringe as ever <3

The Space Age by Steve Lyons: this one’s just boring and kinda stupid. nothing big or important happens and you can tell steve lyons didn’t care for writing compassion at all. skip it

The Banquo Legacy by Andy Lane and Justin Richards: Big Plot Developments in this one - mostly in the beginning and end. also the only (?) mention of irving braxiatel in the whole run! it’s written from the POV of two Normal people not on the tardis so it’s interesting to see how they perceive the doctor and fitz, and how this contradicts the way they define themselves in other books where we’re privy to their internal monologue 

The Ancestor Cell by Peter Anghelides and Stephen Cole: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH AAAAGHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAUAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU HFHOA8U8OIA AOUIY4P98 YT39 7UGHYIB3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this one drives me insane and there are parts of it i reread nearly every day. because i’m CRAZY. it’s a controversial novel in the doctor who fandom because of how it handles gallifrey and faction paradox lore but WHO FUCKING CARES? FATHER KREINER IS BACK BABY

The Burning by Justin Richards: this is the start of the Earth Arc, so it’s the first portrayal of the doctor stuck on earth without any of his memories. it’s a bit slow at the beginning, and as a normal doctor who story i would consider it subpar, but the characterization of the doctor really carries it i think. you see how losing his memory impacted his restraint with things such as hypnosis and Other Stuff I Shan’t Spoil

Casualties of War by Steve Emmerson: this has the first appearance of the Note, so it’s especially important for that reason. but it’s also just a neat story that has way more elements of a fantasy than a sci fi and again, seeing how the doctor acts now, stuck on earth without his memories, and juxtaposing that with how he acted before, super fun and neat

The Turing Test by Paul Leonard: if i could graft this book onto my DNA i would. i already KNEW the circumstances surrounding alan turing’s death and yet i still cried about it while reading this!! paul leonard’s portrayal of turing as both a gay and autistic man (though the latter is never explicitly stated) is INCREDIBLE and i really can’t recommend it enough just based on that. but the story itself is amazing and really delves into the doctor’s Differences and his desperation to leave earth after being stuck there for decades. 

Endgame by Terrance Dicks: people really like this one and i guess i had fun with it but i just can’t really get into terrence dicks’ writing style. that being said it features the doctor listless and just so sad and depressed so you kind of have to read it. if that’s not reason enough there’s a fat gay alcoholic spy who absolutely rocks

Father Time by Lance Parkin: i hate that this is green. i hate it. i hate this fucking book. i hate lance parkin also. but this is where miranda (the doctor’s adopted daughter) is introduced so alas, you must read it and imagine a version of this book thats infinitely better in your head. sorry! 

Escape Velocity by Colin Brake: this one’s mid but it’s the end of the earth arc and fitz and the doctor reunite and ANJI KAPOOR IS HERE!!!!!!!! FINALLY!!!!!!! so if you read this and get a lil bored just know it’s about to get so fucking good you guys

EarthWorld by Jacqueline Rayner: genuinely can’t say enough good things about this one. it’s funny. it’s angsty. it’s all in all just a really fun book. and it’s the shortest one i think so like you have no excuse to not read it

Fear Itself by Nick Wallace: this is technically a PDA because it was written after nine was announced, thereby making 8 technically a “past doctor”, but who give a shit. read this one are yoyu kidding me. read it read it read it read it READ IT. there’s a twist in it that rendered me absolutely catatonic for about a week 

Vanishing Point by Stephen Cole: don’t skip this one even though it’s orange. are you listening to me? don’t fucking skip it ok!!! steve cole is the #1 fitz/eight shipper and this really shines through here. also maybe i’m just easily entertained by reasonably accurate science in my doctor who books but i liked all the genetics references

Eater of Wasps by Trevor Baxendale: trevor you sly dog you did it again. you mad bastard. not only is the storyline in this one soo gripping and also Quite horrifying but the characterization?? hoooooo boy. this is the book where “you really love him, don’t you?” “well, i like to think we’re just good friends.” comes from and so even if it was dogshit you’d have to read it just for that like cmon

The Year of Intelligent Tigers by Kate Orman: holy. fucking. shit. good grief. the doctor has a boyfriend and they go on picnics and drink chocolate martinis together. the doctor becomes a catboy for a few months. this story takes place on a colony world whose culture is predominantly centered around music, so you have the doctor playing his violin (hot). you have scientifically accurate zoology/xenobiology. you have a Mysterious lost civilization. most importantly you have fitz’s song he wrote for the doctor

The Slow Empire by Dave Stone: this one’s just FUNNY okay. dave stone has such a characteristic way of writing prose it’s just kind of a joy to read. if you get the hard copy all of the bits from a side character’s pov is written in comic sans. while some of the characterization is a bit meh and anji didn’t Really live up to her full potential in a couple scenes i’d still recommend it. there’s footnotes

Dark Progeny by Steve Emmerson: this is another one i colored orange even though i whole-heartedly recommend it.. it’s a commentary on corporate apathy and greed and how it destroys entire planets and just a really engaging story besides. not to mention we get a “fitz fitz fitz fitz fitz!” bit from 8 <3

The City of the Dead by Lloyd Rose: i can’t even talk about this oine lest i lose my mind… not joking when i say lloyd rose writes some of the best and juiciest angst in the whole series like some of the scenes in there made me feel like i was being helplessly entrapped in flowing grain for a month

Grimm Reality by Simon Bucher-Jones and Kelly Hale: i really do sound like a broken record at this point but this is another one of those books i could never say enough positive things about. there are two novels in this series that genre-hop and this is one of them. the tardis lands on a world where everything runs on logic straight out of the brother’s grimm (hence the title). there’s magic cloaks and evil stepsisters and giants, and the doctor, fitz, and anji all have their own separate adventures so it’s super interesting to see how each character deals with being in a fairytale. not only that but there are parts of the book written in the style of those old fairytales and i really do get a good kick out of  gimmicky stuff like that 

The Adventuress of Henrietta Street by Lawrence Miles: buckle the fuck up everyone and get out your highlighters and sticky notes because this one is so fucking dense you’ll have no choice but to annotate and take notes, sorry! it’s written in the style of a historical nonfiction which occasionally falls flat (where’s the fucking works cited, lawrence???), but the story is fucking crazy. you got arcane rituals, prostitutes doing sex magic that summon great apes, sabbath is here, the doctor is weak and sickly (always awesome), sabbath is here, the doctor gets married so he can save the earth, sabbath is here,

Mad Dogs and Englishmen by Paul Leonard: this is the petplay book featuring multicolored poodles that have human hands. need i say more? 

Hope by Mark Clapham: not the best book but it’s got some pretty crucial anji moments in, and we all love love love anji so much so we’ll read mediocre novels just for her!! (but we also see the doctor struggle with only having one heart so that’s fun too)

Anachrophobia by Jonathan Morris: literally my top 3 book in the series EASY. it takes place on a planet ravaged by a time war (as in a war that fights with weapons that fuck with time. not like That time war), yet despite that particular futuristic conceit the entire atmosphere of the book feels like something out of the 40s or 50s  - almost like the aesthetics of fallout, but instead of nuclear radiation it’s Time. most of the story takes place in this sealed off bunker that’s doing experiments to try and develop time travel, and while they’re successful in going back in time the guinea pigs who volunteered for the trial develop an illness that fucks up their personal timelines so bad they literally turn into clock zombies. and it’s contagious. but no one can leave because theres fucked up time outside uh oh!!! if you liked the themes of war profiteering from boom in the new season you’ll LOVE this book

Trading Futures by Lance Parkin: fuck you lance parkin i can’t stand your ass! you can’t fucking write for shit!!! i’d recommend this book if you want to see anji referred to as ‘the asian woman’ more than her actual name :) and a southeast asian character with a name that might as well have been taken right out of a book written by  jk rowling. really the only good part of this book is when anji almost calls the doctor an otter-fucker

The Book of the Still by Paul Ebbs: this book is a WILD fucking ride. this book is fucking insane in the most positive of ways. paul ebbs writes an absolutely top tier eight that manages to encapsulate all the development he went through in the series as well as evoking the characterization from the 1996 movie

The Crooked World by Steve Lyons: this is the second book that does a genre-swap, but instead of fairytales this time the tardis lands on a planet dominated by saturday morning cartoon physics and logic. but the doctor & co being there begins to introduce Real Life concepts such as death and sex and swearing, so all these wacky cartoon characters who’ve spent their whole lives doing wacky cartoon things like blowing each other up with sticks of dynamite or hitting each other with big hammers suddenly find that these actions actually have very very serious consequences, which really kicks off when this story’s equivalent of tom rips off this story’s equivalent of jerry’s head, killing him instantly. idk i just watched a lot of saturday morning cartoons as a kid so seeing the parodies of wacky races and scooby doo was very enjoyable. to me

History 101 by Mags L Halliday: to put it simply this book is about leftist infighting. to put it more complexly this book is about the spanish civil war and how differing opinions and principles can alter one’s perception of history - and what happens when history actually starts being changed in accordance to these differing principles. there’s also the subplot featuring fitz’s homoerotic, yet very traumatizing, travels with a guy named sasha as they journey to guernica so they can watch it be bombed

Camera Obscura by Lloyd Rose: this is where sabbath and the doctor’s relationship really reaches it’s peak. this is The Esteemed Toxic Old Man Yaoi Novel. but also remember when i said lloyd rose writes the best angst? this holds especially true here. i won’t spoil it for you but Something Crazy Happens to the Doctor! haha. haha

Time Zero by Justine Richards: this is just quantum physics: the novel. while fitz goes on his doomed siberia expedition with the geologist boytoy george in the 19th century, the doctor investigates some strange readings in siberia like a hundred years later, and some crazy confusing hijinks ensue! the events in this book kick off the arc that’ll continue for the next few books until sometime never where the multiverse is collapsing and the doctor has to fix it. even though he doesn’t know how. ALSO TRIX INTRODUCTIONNNNNN!!!!!!!!

The Infinity Race by Simon Messingham: this one’s whatever. the sabbath characterization is wack but there are a few good moments. you think it’s going to be mostly about a cool boat race but sadly that comes secondary -_-

The Domino Effect by David Bishop: this book is ASS, both plot-wise and characterization-wise. it also just seems like the author was trying to be needlessly edgy when he developed the setting, and there are just some baffling moments where characters say and do things i frankly think they would never say 

Reckless Engineering by Nick Walters: the events in this one center around a tragedy that is fucking batshit insane. the universe this takes place in features a post-apocalyptic earth. i shan’t say what this apocalypse was because finding out what happened is all apart of the fun guys. i can’t spoil everything for you

The Last Resort by Paul Leonard: what if a corporation discovered TIME TRAVEL and set up RESORTS all across human history? what if there was a mcdonalds in ancient egypt and advertisements for microsoft in the original version of the bible? also what if something just soooo fucked up happens so many times <3

Timeless by Stephen Cole: anji’s last book. sobs.

Emotional Chemistry by Simon A. Forward: idk what it was but i just didn’t really vibe with this one. it’s not awful by any means and there’s a bit of plot carried in from the last novel that continues into the next but the actions that surround it don’t really matter i think. honestly i’d just read a summary of this one and continue on 

Sometime Never... by Justin Richards: the culmination of the multiverse stuff. i liked it - miranda makes a reappearance, and the fact she’s written by someone other than lance parkin is already a plus. my only qualm is i don’t really like how it handled sabbath but that’s sort of how i felt about all the books post camera obscura… sigh

Halflife by Mark Michalowski: ANOTHER EASY TOP 3. i’m simply obsessed with all of the concepts and tropes in this book, not to mention it’s where fitz’s infamous Ass Dream can be found. there’s commentary on racism, colonialism, and religion, and it also features cannibalism as a metaphor for love :D

The Tomorrow Windows by Jonathan Morris: another case of me coloring a book orange even though i think you should read it anyway. it’s positively saturated with so many interesting alien planets and creatures and societies you’d be missing out if you didn’t read this one tbh. it’s also the first novel ever to feature the ninth doctor!

The Sleep of Reason by Martin Day: this one ok. it’s another book written from the pov of an outsider and her insights into the doctor, fitz, and trix are interesting (and their characterization when they show up is outstanding!) but it feels like they’re rarely in it & this close to the end of the series i just want to see more of my guys you know...

The Deadstone Memorial by Trevor Baxendale: i loved the atmosphere in this one. it’s more of a ghost story with sci fi elements, and the stakes involved aren’t Bigger Than Ever like they tend to be nowadays, but instead surround the wellbeing of a family of a single mom and her two kids which i appreciate - the doctor isn’t saving the Whole Universe and World; just a family from a small town; it’s effective in getting the point across that the doctor thinks everyone’s important and worth saving 

To the Slaughter by Stephen Cole: this one’s fun and goofy and steve cole wrote it solely so he could fix an error from a fourth doctor serial in which the doctor got the number of jupiter’s moons wrong. that being said the reason it’s not colored orange is because the last book of the series is written by lance parkin and i want to help you procrastinate reading his godawful prose for as long as possible. your welcome

The Gallifrey Chronicles by Lance Parkin: fuck you lance parkin

[get-back-homeward]

Peacock: Can you tell me about the first track, “Let ’em in?”

Paul: It was half-written with Ringo in mind actually. He asked me to write him a tune and there was that one and another one. In the end, I told him I was nicking it and he could have the other one. I just got this idea for a song about someone knocking on the door, someone ringing the bell, and then in the middle, I got into the idea of naming people, just sort of symbolic of a crowd coming in… Sister Suzie, Brother John. Who’s Brother John?

Peacock: I was wondering…

Paul: Whoever you want it to be really, Uncle Ernie? Keith Moon flashing, I suppose, but the trouble with talking about things like that is .. that’s you’ve got to make an excuse for it all after. Someone says, “What did you mean by that?” And really I don’t know. It just comes into your head. Brother Michael — that’s obvious — that’s my brother Michael! Auntie Jin — I’ve got an Auntie Jin, Brother John — that could be whoever you want.

Peacock: Do you get fun out of the thought that people are going to sit down trying to work out the meaning behind lyrics like that?

Paul: It would be great if I wasn’t the ultimate authority on it. It would be just like “Match of the Day” watching them all go around delving into who the Walrus or Brother John is. I mean, to me Brother John is John Lennon, or Linda’s got a brother called John. I suppose it’s anyone’s brother John, but to me, it’s John Lennon. But not in any weird way. It just came out like that. So rather than hide it or change it, I left it. But now, they’re going to ask me. That’s the only problem, that’s the reason it’s not so much fun as it could be because there’s always someone coming up saying “What did you mean by…” or “Linda is Venus, you’re Mars — right?” Wrong, they’re planets, remember?

Peacock: Do you ever take things out because they might be misinterpreted?

Paul: No, I don’t think I ever do that, because normally when it’s writ itself then it’s writ. I don’t really much around with it too much. It’s like most things — you do a painting and think it’s not quite right so you do it again and it’s worse. Like a record — you can go on beyond the right take, but it’s never better. No, I don’t take things out for that reason, in fact, I’d leave things in because people were going to talk about them.

April 3, 1976: Paul McCartney talks to Steve Peacock for Street Life (Vol. 1, Issue 12, Apr 1976)

[therealcocoshady]

Ok sorry for blowing up your asks, but I have one that might be right up your angsty alley…

Marshall is having a particularly hard time on one of the anniversaries of Proof’s passing…🕊️ He’s super vulnerable with reader and she has to comfort him 😔🥺

DIFFICULT 🕊️

Eminem x Assistant Reader

Synopsis : Em is nowhere to be found as you're waiting for him for an important meeting. Turns out... It's the anniversary of Proof's passing and he needs you.

Tags : Vulnerability - Grief - Angst - Comfort

Author's Note : Thank you for this Ask ! I low-key love that you thought of me when it comes to angsty requests 👀. I got inspired and ended up writing quite a bit but I'm afraid it's all over the place. I hope you like it nonetheless. ❤️

Do you know where he is ? Paul asked, visibly unnerved. He should already be here ! 

He’s coming, you assured the manager. I reminded him of this meeting on Friday, don’t worry, he’s going to show up. 

It’s your job to make sure he shows up on time, Y/N, Paul added sternly. That’s what personal assistants are for. 

He’s never late, you said. I’m sure there’s a good reason. Something must have come up… 

It was unlike Marshall to show up late to a work meeting, especially when it involved music. In the past year, since you had started working for him, he had never shown up late anywhere. If anything, he was a bit neurotic about punctuality. « Early is on time, on time is late » he always said. And when it came to anything regarding his latest album, he tended to show up extremely early, polishing details up until the last minute. Except that, today, he was almost thirty minutes late and you were facing Paul and Dre on your own, and there was only so much small talk you could make. 

Look, if the album’s not ready for me to listen to yet, you guys just have to say so, Dre said. 

No, it is, Paul assured him. I mean, you know Marshall, he’s always trying to polish and tweak little things, but we have a version that’s more than ready for you. We wouldn’t have you come from LA otherwise… 

I’ll try an call him, you said. 

You got up and went to your office. You were starting to be a little freaked out. You didn’t want to be dramatic, but you were starting to feel scared that something terrible had happened. One time, he got into a car crash and was not even that late. Thirty minutes late for Marshall was basically four hours late for anyone else. You got out of the room and tried to call him, but he didn’t pick up. Had he lost his phone ? You knew he hated the iPhone you had convinced him to buy - to replace his more than ancient Blackberry - and he used it as little as possible, but him losing anything was unlikely. And he knew about this meeting. You had specifically reminded him of it. He wouldn’t show up late to a meeting with Dre. He had way too much respect for the man. You nervously checked his iCloud calendar, thinking that maybe he was confused about the time. Unlikely but not impossible either. You remembered adding the event « Meeting with Dre - ALBUM VERSION 1 » for this Monday, 9:00 AM a while ago. But it was nowhere to be found. Had it been accidentally deleted ? Had you dropped the ball ? No. Impossible. Not to toot your own horn, but you wouldn’t screw up like that. It was probably a bug. You checked the week’s other events. Deleted too. You knew he had other meetings and studio sessions planned, but they did not appear on the calendar. Weird. Especially since last week’s event were still appearing, and the following week’s too. It looked like someone had cleared this week’s schedule and you knew it wasn’t you. It had to be Marshall, then, since he was the only other person to have access to his calendar. You were worried. He would not clear a whole week’s schedule, especially not when he was nearly done with his album. Something had to have happened. Something awful, by the looks of it. Your mind immediately went to his family. They were the only people he would clear his schedule for. You decided to call Hailie, hoping that nothing awful had happened to her or her sisters. 

Hey Y/N, you heard her soft voice say as she picked up the phone. How are you ? 

Hey Hailie, you said nervously. Are you alright ? 

All good, she said. Why ? Are you ok ? Is there anything wrong ? 

Um… I don’t know, you said. I'm trying to reach your Dad. Have you heard of him ? 

Not since Thursday, I think. He told me he was spending the weekend with you. What’s wrong ? 

He’s just a little late to a meeting, you said as you tried to sound casual. I was worried that something had happened to you, your sisters, Nate… 

No, we’re all good, she said reassuringly. Look, I’m in Chicago, but I can try and call him… 

Don’t worry about it, you said. Enjoy Chicago.

Thank you ! See you ! 

Hailie didn’t seem too worried, so there was at least that. However, you were a little bugged off. You absolutely had not spent the weekend with Marshall and, frankly, you were a bit shocked that he had lied to his daughter about it. Not that you never spent the weekend together - in the past six months, it had happened quite a bit - but he was not the type to lie to his daughter. It was odd that he would use you as a lie, especially since your relationship - if you could call it that - was still in the developing stage. As far as Hailie was concerned, you were the closest thing her Dad had to a girlfriend but, in actuality, it was a bit more complicated. It wasn’t necessarily serious or committed, and there most certainly wasn’t any label on it. You were his personal assistant, whom he occasionally fooled around with. The only reason Hailie saw you as his girlfriend was that she had walked in on the two of you making out with very, very few clothes on. Thank God, she was an adult and didn’t really want to know anything about it. No one ever mentioned the incident but she assumed there was something between you and Marshall. And there was. In a way. But he wasn’t really the kind of guy to put a label on it and you knew it. He was extremely guarded and, even though you knew you were one of the people closest to him, you didn’t expect much. He was a really great boss, amazing man and more than satisfactory lover, but you knew him enough to know it would never evolve into anything serious. « I don’t do relationships, you know » he had once told you. And you didn’t mind. You enjoyed things just the way they were. The way you saw it, the sex you sometimes had - usually on work trips or late nights - was a perk to your job, along with the generous salary and health benefits. But regardless of all that, him lying about spending the weekend with you was extremely odd. You tried calling him again, but were sent straight to voicemail. You sheepishly went back to the conference room. 

Did you talk to him ? Paul asked. 

No news, you said. That’s odd. I’ll go to his place and if he’s not there, I’ll try the hospitals. I’m sorry. 

I hope he’s ok, Dre said. Keep us posted ? 

Of course. 

You made your way to your car and drove to his place. Security knew your car and plates and saw you often enough to let you through the gates. You parked in front of Marshall’s house and immediately noticed that the car he used the most was parked out front. He was home. Thank God, you didn’t have to worry about a car crash. You rang the bell but no one came to open it. Maybe he had slipped in the shower and injured his head ? Or fallen down the stairs ? No. You often joked about him being older but he wasn’t geriatric either. Still, you were worried so you used your spare key and let yourself in. 

The house was unusually dark and messy. You checked downstairs, the living room, kitchen, office… It was messy, like someone had rummaged through things, but Marshall was nowhere to be found. You tried every room upstairs, every closet, every bedroom, but he wasn’t there either. You decided to try the only remaining space you hadn’t checked : the basement (you doubted he was in the garage - he liked his cars but not enough to cancel a meeting about music). That’s where you found him : in one of the dimly lit rooms he had converted into a home music studio, laying on the carpet, eyes closed, headphones on his head. You gasped and almost thought he was dead. You immediately rushed to his side and checked his breath. As soon as you approached, he slowly opened his eyes and groaned. 

Marshall, are you alright ? You asked. Are you hurt ? 

No, he said in a raspy voice before sitting up. 

You examined his face : he looked like a zombie, or at least like someone who had forgotten what sleep and food were. And judging by the smell, he had also forgotten about showers. You usually enjoyed his masculine scent but now he was smelling as rank as a teenage boy addicted to video games. 

What are you doing here ? He asked. 

I came to check you weren’t dead, you said. You missed the meeting with Dre. Paul is furious. 

Wait… What day is it ? He asked in confusion. 

Monday, you said. April 12th. 

Fuck. 

He rubbed his eyes and scratched his beard, and you inspected him closer. His eyes were bloodshot, with huge dark circles. The beard he usually kept well-trimmed was all over the place, so was his short hair, and his breath smelled of energy drink. He had always had a penchant for soda and Redbull, but it usually wasn’t to the point of smelling like a candy factory. Well, if you added the smell of sweat, it was more like someone who ran a marathon in the Redbull factory. Marshall looked at you without saying a word. 

Are you alright ? You asked. 

Does it look like I’m alright ? He groaned. 

Not really, you admitted - not really knowing what to say. 

Why are you ask, then ?

If you hadn’t been so worried, you would have snapped at him for behaving like an ass, but it wasn’t him. You sighed and looked at the CDs he’d been listening to : « Searching for Jerry Garcia » and « I Miss the Hip Hop Shop » by Proof. That’s when it hit you : today was April 12th and April 11th was the anniversary of his best friend’s passing. The both of you were sitting on the carpet, not saying a word. He knew that you knew. 

Do you… Um… Want to talk about it ? You asked tentatively. 

I need a shower, he said. 

Yes he did. He definitely did. You got up and waited for him to do the same but he simply groaned as he tried to move. You gave him your hand and helped him up as he let out a moan and held his back. You wondered how long he’d been laying there, listening to music and losing track of time. He seemed to have trouble even standing up. « God, he must be exhausted », you thought. 

Need help ? You asked. 

Y-Yeah, he said. 

Shower ? 

Yeah. 

Without a word, you helped him to the nearest bathroom where he started undressing without even waiting for you to leave. You could feel your cheeks burn. You’d seen him naked before, sure, but this different than the two of you shedding your clothes in a passionate moment. Now, you had the feeling of seeing something you weren’t supposed to. It felt a bit weird. You watched him step in the shower and went upstairs, to his closet, to pick some clothes for him to wear. You grabbed boxers, some sweatpants, a wife beater and a hoodie and put them in the bathroom, near the sink before opening the windows to let in some light and fresh air, as you tidied up a bit. You’d spent some time in his house before but you had never seen the place this messy. 

Thanks for the clothes, Marshall said as he emerged from the bathroom. 

Feeling better ? You asked. 

Yeah.

When was the last time you showered ? You asked. 

I don’t know, he shrugged. 

Last time you ate ? 

Fri…Sat… I don’t know, he replied. 

He seemed gaunt and, even if the shower seemed to have done some good, Marshall seemed like a corpse. He was standing there, staring at you, not extremely responsive. You had never seen him like this and it was definitely a far cry from his usual self. Ever since you had met him for the first time, you had found him to have an impressive presence. Whenever he walked into a room, he naturally drew attention to him and he had such charisma that he seemed bigger than he actually was. But for the first time, he looked weak and lost. 

Are you hungry ? You asked. 

A bit, he replied. 

Sit, you said. I’ll prepare something. What do you want ? Pasta ? 

Whatever, he said. 

He sat on the couch and you made your way to the kitchen. Being the one responsible for his shopping, you knew the pantry like the back of your hand and knew exactly what was in there. You decided to make some homemade spaghetti, using Mom’s Spaghetti sauce with homemade garlic toasts. His lazy comfort food. When you brought his plate to the living room, he was manspreading, looking at the ceiling. 

Thanks, he said as you handed him the food. Chips would have been enough, you know ? 

You need to eat a real meal, you simply said. 

He nodded and started to eat. You noticed he was avoiding your gaze. He usually didn’t have much trouble maintaining eye contact, except for when he was ashamed, or sad, or tired. In this case, you knew it was probably a mixture of everything. There was no doubt as to his exhaustion and sadness, and you knew he would feel ashamed for missing an important work meeting. You looked at him and left the room to go and call Paul. 

So ? He asked. How is he ? 

He’s… sick, you lied, knowing full well Marshall wouldn’t want you telling people how you had found him. 

Sick ? The managed asked. What does he have ? 

The flu, you said. It’s pretty nasty. I cleared up his schedule for the week. He needs rest. He’s really sorry about the meeting. 

Alright. I’ll call him later, he said. Dre has to leave today, we’ll have to set up another meeting. 

I’ll let him know. 

You also texted Hailie to let her know you had managed to get ahold of her Dad. When you got back to Marshall, he was looking at a picture frame of him and Proof. From the looks of it, you guessed it was from 2005-2006. You sat next to him in silence. 

The flu ? He asked in a raspy voice. 

Couldn’t come up with anything better on the spot, you said. At least, it buys you the rest of the week so you can rest. 

No need, he said. I can… I can work. 

Bullshit, you sighed. 

He stared in your eyes for the first time all day and sighed. His eyes went back to the picture frame and you could see hum swallow dryly. 

Went was this taken ? You asked. 

March 2006, he said in a breaking voice. It’s the last picture of him I have… 

His breath was shaky and you could tell he was on the verge if tears. You placed a hand over his and gently stroked his skin. 

It’s ok to cry, you know ? You said softly. 

You weren’t too sure why you said that. Of course it was ok to cry. A man in his fifties, especially your boss, did not need your permission to cry. Or so you thought. Because as soon as the words left your lips, the tears started to flow and he started sobbing. You put a hand on his back and tried to soothe him while you saw his face redden and scrunch up, his tears wetting his face. It was painful seeing him like this and you wished there was something you could do. If that were possible, you would gladly take his pain and make it yours. 

Fu-fuck, I-I’m sorry, he said after a while. 

You have nothing to apologize for, you said gently. It’s ok. He was your best friend. It’s ok to be sad. 

I-I fucked up…

It’s just a work meeting, you reminded him. We’ll set up another meeting with Dre, I’ll move a couple of appointments, it’s fine. 

No, not… I-I…

He was trying to speak but he wasn’t making much sense. He was stuttering, his voice cracking, changing pitch… You put your arms around him, half-expecting him to push you away but he didn’t. You kept running a hand up and down his back to soothe him a bit and it seemed effective. 

Thank you, Y/N, he said. 

Were you like this all weekend ? You asked. 

Yeah… 

Is that why you told Hailie I was spending the weekend with you ? 

I… Yeah, he said sheepishly. I didn’t want the kids to see me like this. 

I see, you said. So… what ? You listened to his music, looked at pictures and lost track of time ? 

I guess, he shrugged. I… I tried to go to his grave yesterday but it was packed. 

I guess a lot of people miss him, you said. 

No, it was… I saw them and they were wearing… My tee-shirts. My merch. They were my fans. On his grave. And it drove me fucking mad. Because I couldn’t even get out of my car, and I had to see these people pay respect but they were fans. They didn’t know him. And I saw the posts on social media. And people keep on making it about me. 

His voice broke again. You had often had conversations with him about fame and how he was dealing with it. Most of the time, he was grateful for it, though he often gave the impression that he didn’t really get why he was famous and how people could look up to him so much. « It’s just me », he often said. Deep down, he only saw himself as a guy trying to make it in hip-hop, trying to be the best emcee. Fame was never really part of his plan, though he was grateful for the success and love of people granted him. But the way he was speaking, it seemed like less of a blessing and more of a curse. He explained to you that he felt guilty for people making Proof’s death about him. Sure, he was his best friend, but he was so much more, and he just wished people would respect his legacy and everything he meant to the hip-hop culture. He also felt guilty when he thought about Proof’s family, who didn’t only have to deal with a tragic loss but also his own fame, and always being asked questions about him. 

His wife… She always hated me, you know ? He said. She hated all of us. Proof was never home, always either getting in trouble with us or trying to keep us out of it. Now we don’t speak too much and… I mean, I get it, I was his friend, not hers, but… I don’t know. I was supposed to be an uncle to his kids, you know ? I’m supposed to be there for them, not make things difficult. I’m supposed to be the one sending flowers, not receiving them in their place. 

Do you keep in touch ? You asked. 

I try, he said. I mean, if the kids need something, they know they can call. Sharonda too. She never would, she’s too proud but… Yeah, I just wish I could do more, you know ? 

I know, you said. You shouldn’t feel guilty… 

No, I should, he shrugged. When he died, I was a massive asshole about it… I mean, I guess I made it a lot about me. But now it makes me so mad. And sad. And I miss him so much and I just wish I could apologize to him. 

For what ? You asked as you stroked his hand. 

Everything, he shrugged. For being ungrateful and not seeing everything he did to hold down the fort. Proof… He was strong when I was weak. And I never got to tell him how thankful I am. If it weren’t for him, I’d still be making burgers. 

I’m sure he knew how much you loved him, you said softly. 

I hope, he said. He was everything to me… Like… We didn’t love each other like that, you know. Like, no homo or whatever. But sometimes I think he was the love of my life. In a platonic way. Like, he was my other half, the one who made me a better person. And now that he’s gone… I’m just me. And it’s hard. 

You’re still pretty great, you said. And I know he would be proud of you. 

I… I don’t know, he said. 

He seemed lost in his thoughts. You realized you had been stroking his back the whole time and stopped. He turned to you with his eyebrows furrowed and he didn’t even have to ask for you to resume. It was the first time the two of you had such a prolonged physical contact without it being sexual and you wondered if he noticed, too. He closed his eyes and you looked at him some more. He was clearly exhausted and you weren’t too sure how long he would need to sleep. Probably a long time. 

You should go to bed, you said softly. 

I guess, he shrugged. 

You need rest, you insisted. I’ll do the dishes and go home, ok ? You can call me if you need anything. 

Can you stay ? He asked nervously. I… I don’t feel like being… alone. 

Sure, you said with a hint of surprise. 

Ok. 

He got up and headed upstairs. When he noticed you weren’t following him, he turned to you with a raised eyebrow. 

You don’t want to come ? 

Upstairs ? You asked with your eyebrows furrowed. To your… room ? 

You said I needed to sleep, he pointed out. I’m not sleeping on the damn couch. 

You shrugged and followed him. That was new. You had slept over a couple of times, but never in the same bed as him. The only circumstances in which you had seen his bedroom were strictly sexual. But as soon as the deed was done, he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as you. And even when you had slept with him during work trips, you’d been back to your own room after. It was one of the many ways in which he could be guarded and you knew it had nothing to do with you. He just had his quirky, peculiar ways. He got in bed and looked at you intently. 

Come, he said. 

Ok, you said as you sat next to him. 

Remove your socks, he instructed. 

I’m not removing my socks, you said. My feet are cold. 

You’re not getting in my bed with your dirty socks, he pointed out. 

I just put them on this morning, you said. They’re not dirty. 

It’s a pet peeve, he said. Just… Socks off, ok ? And get under the covers. 

You scoffed. If he was in a good enough state to be oddly specific - as he often was about practically everything in his life - it was a good sign. You took your socks off and sat in bed, under the covers. It felt weird but Marshall didn’t seem to pick on it. He simply laid there and stared at you. 

You’re not laying down ? He finally asked. 

Um… Sitting is fine, you said. 

Can you lie down, please ? He asked. 

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow but still did as you were told. As soon as you laid down next to him, he closed his eyes. Given how exhausted he looked, you half-expected him to fall asleep right then and there but he didn’t. Instead, he kept on tossing and turning. 

What’s up ? You asked. Do you need anything ? 

I think it’s the Redbull, he said. I haven’t drank much else in days. It’s keeping me awake. 

Oh, you said. Let’s talk, then. 

About what ? He asked. 

I don’t know, you shrugged. We can talk about anything. What’s up with the cleared schedule on iCloud ? Did you do that ? 

Yeah… I don’t know, he said sheepishly. I… I went to the cemetery yesterday and when I couldn’t go and had to go home, I guess I lost it. There were these thoughts in my head and… I’m not sure I can do it anymore. Without Proof it’s… too hard. 

Tears were welling in his eyes again. It had been more than fifteen years since Proof’s passing and Marshall had put out quite a few albums in that time, but the wound still seemed fresh. It wasn’t a matter of his technical ability to do it without Proof - of course he could - it was about whether or not he wanted to. 

Ok, you said. 

Ok ? He asked. 

What do you want me to say ? You asked. Do you want me to plead for you to keep going ? I’m not going to. If you want to quit and retire, that’s ok, you’re allowed. 

Really ? 

I mean… Yeah, you said simply. It’s your decision. If you think you don’t have anything else to bring to the table, that’s fine. You’ve had a good run and a career people can only dream of having. If you decide to put an end to it, that’s fine. 

Wait… No, he said. I mean, your job is to talk me out of it. Is that some reverse psychology thing ? 

It’s Paul’s job to talk you out of it, you clarified. Me, I’m just a personal assistant. My job is to manage your schedule and make life easier for you. Whether or not you put out music, my job’s fine as long as you need me to do your shopping, come to football games with you and remind you of your dentist’s appointments. Next one is in two months by the way. 

He chuckled and you couldn’t help but smile. His face was still puffy and he still didn’t look his best, but hearing him laugh - however lightly - was good. He was a great person and you hated seeing him like this. Of all the people you had ever met, he was the one who had suffered the most, and deserved it the least. He was a good, hardworking, honest and generous man, on top of being one of the most talented people ever. His sadness was breaking your heart. If his career was making him sad, if keeping on going without Proof was too hard, he should be allowed to quit. He had earned it and, in your opinion, he didn’t have anything left to prove to anyone. 

So you don’t care whether I end my career or not ? He asked with an amused look. 

As a fan, I think it would be tragic, you said. Especially If you don’t put out that last album. It’s your best work so far. But as a person… What I care about is you, Marshall. I’m in the front row, seeing how hard you work every day. If you say that’s too hard, then that’s too hard and I trust you on that. If you think you’ll be happier doing something else, just enjoying life with your family and focusing on your charity, you should do that. 

Proof would kick my ass for thinking of quitting, he said pensively. 

I think Proof would want you to be happy, you pointed out. 

He hummed and looked at you. He brought a hand to your face and stroked your face as a single tear rolled on his cheek. You smiled and wiped the tear, letting your hand cup his face. You stared at each other in silence. It was unusual but, oddly enough, not uncomfortable. 

Thank you for staying, Y/N, he simply said before letting out a small yawn. 

You should really try and get some sleep, you replied softly. 

He nodded and closed his eyes as you heard him take deep breaths. A couple of minutes later, he was asleep. You could hear him snore lightly. You looked at your phone to check the time. It was only 1PM. You figured you’d stay there for a while and let him sleep while you answered a couple of e-mails. After a couple of hours, Marshall was still sleeping soundly. You thought you might as well do some tidying up in the house, but as soon as you tried to move, you felt his arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him. You smiled to yourself as you realized it was the first time you actually cuddled with him - and you enjoyed it more than you probably should. Your back was against his chest and you could feel his heartbeat. This and the sensation of his arm around you were incredibly soothing and you allowed yourself to close your eyes for a minute.

(…)

Marshall groaned as you gently shook his shoulder to try and wake him up. He scrunched up his nose and let out a few obscenities. He looked pissed off as he opened his eyes. 

What time is it ? He groaned. 

About 7PM, you said. 

You better have a good reason to wake me up, he sighed. 

I think I do. You have clothes on your bed and ten minutes to get changed, ok ? 

I’m not getting dressed, and I’m not going out, he said with an eye roll. 

And I’m not giving you a choice, you said with a smile. Get up. Please. You won’t regret it. 

You made your way downstairs and prepared a bottle of water and a snack for Marshall as you waited for him. When he arrived, he looked a bit puzzled. He was still clearly tired but he looked a lot better. You made him get in your car and drove to the cemetery. You had called ahead of time and asked if they would do you a favor and keep the place open for a couple more hours. You used the « Marshall Mathers » card, which always worked when it came to getting a table at a fancy restaurant, borrowing a private jet or keeping a store open when Marshall needed to shop for his daughters’ birthday. 

What are we doing here ? He asked as you parked out front.

You know what we’re doing here, you said. It’s after hours and you get to pay your respects in peace. 

You… You arranged for this ?

I did, you said. They’ll be open until 8:30PM. I’m sorry, I didn’t find a florist open, though. 

He looked at you in shock and immediately engulfed you in a hug before whispering a « thank you » in your ear before getting out of the car. An hour later, you were leaning on the hood of your car, smoking a cigarette when Marshall came back. He seemed more at peace. You could tell he had cried - as people often do when they’re visiting someone’s grave - but he seemed alright nonetheless. He walked up to you and took you by surprise by kissing you. Contrary to all the kisses you’d shared until now, this one wasn’t greedy, hungry or passionate. It was tender and soft. Intimate and emotional. 

A-Are you alright ? You asked. 

Yeah, he hummed. Thank you for taking me. 

You’re welcome, you said with a smile. 

Ready to go ? He asked. 

Almost, you said as you pointed to your cigarette - knowing full well the hatred he had of your smoking habit. 

The drive home was a bit weird. You had kissed before but this felt different. You had always enjoyed his kisses but this one was, by far, your favorite. You felt a little guilty for enjoying it so much. If you were honest with yourself, it was a little scary, too. The only reason you had managed not to catch feelings for Marshall was because he was usually guarded and there were a lot of boundaries. But after today, after seeing him this open and vulnerable, you weren’t too sure you could go back to having casual sex with him. It would be too dangerous. 

Did you know Proof’s family would be there ? He asked as you parked in front of his place. 

Were they ? You asked in surprise. No, I didn’t. 

The cemetery must have called them, then, he shrugged. 

I’m sorry, you said. I insisted that you have your privacy… 

It’s fine, he said. I talked to Sharonda. Nasaan was here too. 

How did it go ? 

Pretty well, he said. I’m seeing them later this week. Over dinner. 

That’s great, you replied with a smile. I’m happy for you. 

Thank you Y/N, he said emotionally. For everything you always do for me. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to get through life without you. You put up with me, you make life bearable… And… Thank you for today, especially. 

You’re welcome, you said with a small smile. 

He cupped your face and kissed you again. You leaned into the kiss more than you should. A part of you knew that you should push him away… But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Not after he had such a hard day. So you kissed him back and enjoyed the sensation of his tongue caressing yours, of his fingers in your hair. 

Now, you should go and get some rest, you said softly. 

Are you coming ? He asked as he stroked your cheek. 

Do you need me ? 

Y/N… I always need you. 

And just like that… You knew you were screwed. You felt an army of butterflies in your stomach and your brain was nowhere to be found. It had left the chat as soon as you heard Marshall’s soft voice say he needed you. You were unable to think so your emotions took over as you exited the car and got inside the house, his hand in yours. 

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.4

Oh, John. It's hard because I'm like “fame was not good for that man” but I'm also like “he would've gone crazy with self-loathing if he didn't have the fame.”

John and Paul start to answer a question at the same time. John: no, go on, you can say it. They're seriously so married. 

John's schoolboy flirting is cute, but what's more noteworthy to me is a) how happy Paul is to be shoved and b) how he instantly leans back into John. It's like they're bungeed together or something. 

John gets me. Look how much he loves Paul bringing out the forced confidence shield to protect him. He's so in love. So turned on. 

Here's my question about the death threats. Did the other Beatles actually receive them and tell Brian about them and keep them from John? Because that would be incredibly sweet and noble of them, but also, in that case, surely John received death threats too. Meaning he just didn't care about his own life and assumed the others were being left out of it because they hadn't actually said they were bigger than Jesus. Or did they have people filtering all their mail by that point? And Brian had been keeping the death threats from all of them? Because that could be interpreted as both protective and selfish of him. Does anyone know?

Again. I just love how Paul goes to bat for John over and over during this tour. Batting his eyes and playing with his hair and shouting down any and all criticism of John speaking his mind.

This moment is so telling to me. An interviewer who was up front at several concerts points out the looks and smiles between John and Paul which you can only see from the front and asks, “is it really that much fun every time?” The easy answer is, “Yeah. We like what we do. It's fun!” But Paul gets cagey. “Oh well the thing is you know with things like that it's probably…” and he makes up a bullshit story about messing up on a song they haven't performed in a year. Why do that if you don't have something to hide? (Even if you're subconsciously hiding) That right there is a tip-off for me that they're not normal about each other. 

Interviewer: are you guys breaking up? John, immediately and emphatically: No. Paul: "Depends what you mean by breaking up, you know . . . Because we can't go on forever like this, so we've got to think now and prepare for, you know, if it did happen. The time has come for us to break up, but we've realized the possibility . . . Of breaking up as a natural progression." Literally shut the fuck up right now, you're going to give John an aneurysm.

I understand. I know. I don't relate to Paul much but I do relate to his hyperactivity and his avoidant attachment. I make sure constantly that I'll be okay when all my relationships end. But you don't talk about that in front of the other person. Especially someone like John whose worst fear is being left. Come on. Think. 

See, now look what you did, Paul. Here's John's answer the next time they're asked about breaking up. 

And yeah, the klan being the ones to “stand up against the Beatles blasphemy” really proves my point from the last post I think. It's just masked racism. 

It actually seems like Paul's more vocally political at this point in time than John is. I wonder what happened to change that? Was it just the influence of their respective wives? Was it just easier for them to play up the roles they'd been assigned for the most part?

Okay on this round of “are you breaking up” they look at each other first before they answer and then Paul goes “all together probably.” I wonder if they talked about their previous answers together and admitted – however cautiously or however veiled – that hearing the other say they might leave hadn't been fun. Who knows, honestly.  

Paul and John often talk about making a radio show together apparently. Gosh if only they could've done that now. I'd make them my token white boy podcast. It'd be great. They'd be so lame and so adorable and they'd talk about recipes and politics and they'd gossip and rank other people's music. But anyway, what really gets me is the often bit. So they really did plan their post-beatle future together. Enough that it was a frequent topic of discussion between them. They planned to be together forever. 

Ugh it always guts me that Paul brought a girlfriend to Paris with him to meet up with John.

Okay my tin hat is glued to my head for this but. But. Hear me out alright? So John starts filming on 09/19/66. He's there for 6 &½ weeks. Putting the end at the beginning of November, right when Paul goes in disguise and alone to Paris. Do we have tabs on John for those dates? John just talked about going around Paris in disguise. What if  they met up by themselves and in secret? What then?

 No fucking wonder John was exhausted with him. Damn. He takes a month and a half to write strawberry fields, shows it to Paul, then...

Interviewer: the songwriting team will keep going whatever happens will it? John: yeah, we'll probably carry on writing music Forever. It's just so ‘Obviously. Might as well ask me if the sun's going to come up tomorrow.’

His friend – try dangerous drugs with and take home to daddy type “friend” – just died brutally and suddenly two days ago, and this is what he looks like and talks like and he's going in to work like it's nothing. I just. Compare that to John talking about Brian's death? Obviously two very different relationships but still… Paul's upbringing really fucked him up so hard. He thinks he's not allowed to be human. What can I say? It's a drag.

AKA the happiest 6 months of John and Paul's lives. 

I find it fascinating that Paul alone is asked to compose and record what would eventually become the carnival of light and that he just went ahead and included everyone in that. Really makes me wonder if he got a vibe off John that him doing the family way alone was hurtful or if they maybe even talked about it? Or maybe he just didn't like doing the family way without John.

Actually quite a lovely, forward-thinking, humble speech. Imagine being John, though. Watching that from home like “why the fuck is he philosophizing to the world without me?” Because you know John shares all those sentiments and might even have got there first. It would be infuriating.

“A lucky man who made the grade” is an interesting way to describe Tara and I can't help but wonder if it has anything to do with Tara being cool enough for Paul to associate with him. And Paul is many things but stupid is not one of them. He's going to at the very least wonder if this verse is about John laughing at his friend's death. Right? Like I know Paul's the repression CEO but seriously I don't think even he is that good. 

Maybe that Leopold and Leob quote isn't just about tearing people down verbally. Maybe Wooler genuinely got a vibe of a sense of superiority and therefore lack of empathy with Lennon/McCartney.

I mean he really does sound like he's describing sex though, doesn't he? Emotional, loving, romantic sex. Followed immediately by Paul's “I'd love to turn you on” lyrics and the “down with pants” and “sword swallower” pins. Alrighty then. 

What I would call my Beatles bio after watching this. "They Touched Dicks: The Only Logical Conclusion."

[fashionteahouse]

Could I request a Paul x reader where she previously had a baby with embry in high school so now her and Paul have to co parent with him

ooo will there be drama?? hope you enjoy :)

who? what! - paul x reader

Trips to La Push have been made, knocks, no, bangs, were made on Embry's front door. Things were fine before. The phone call to tell him the big news wasn't as nerve-wracking as you thought it was going to be. You both were still young with the future stretched out ahead.

"We're going to be good parents." Embry's voice said to you on the other end of the line.

You smiled, happy that not only he was understanding, you both got to share this moment together.

You went into labor, you tried to call him. Your parents tried to call him. No answer. It wasn't until the baby was in your arms until he burst through the door late, peering down at the small freshly born child. He gave you a look. You knew after that look, things weren't going to be the same.

After that, he barely kept in contact with you or the baby. Visiting La Push wasn't easy, banging on his door just to not receive an answer. The calls would fall into the voicemail operating system.

Stepping off of the porch, you sigh heavy, with thousands of questions swirling in your head. You made your way into a small diner, just to get a coffee. The tiring nights made you yawn so much, your jaw was a tad bit sore.

Your baby was sound asleep. You reach over to grab your cup but the baby's bottle falls out of the bag that you brought, making it roll. You get up to get it, but a tan hand grabs it. He pushes his arm out, giving you back the item.

"Thanks." you tell him.

"Up all night?" he asks.

At your cue, you yawn, cover your mouth with a hand and nod while doing so.

"Is it because of the little one?" he slightly points, in a teasing tone.

"Yes," you say chuckling, "A full night's rest would be so awesome right now."

"I don't mean to be in your business but..Does the dad work a lot or something." he asks curiously.

"I wish I knew. I could barely catch him around." you say, frowning a bit.

"The rez is small. What's his name?"

"Embry Call."

"Embry? Embry?" he asks for clarification, he couldn't believe his ears. He simply refused to believe that Embry had a child. How come he hasn't said anything to anybody?

"Yeah..." you say, eyeing the guy's confused face. You walk to sit back down, but he follows you.

"He.." he starts to say but shakes his head, not wanting to say more than he should.

"What? What's wrong?" you ask him, wanting him to continue.

He musters up the words, "He never told any of us he had a kid." he says the statement and allows his eyes to attach themselves to the sleeping baby.

You sit there, dumbstruck at the fact that he hasn't told anyone.

"Who are you?" you ask him.

"I'm Paul." he says.

"Lahote?" you finish?

He nods.

You shake your head and mutter under your breath, "Unbelievable."

He fixes a scowl on his face, "I was just trying to help out. My bad."

You raise your eyebrows a bit and blink, "No..No, I'm not talking about you. It's just that it's unbelievable that I had to find out from a stranger that.." you gesture your hand to the baby.

He brings on a look of understanding and sighs and points to the empty seat. You nod.

"I don't have to be a stranger. I can also tell him you've been looking for him." he offers. You give him a kind smile and nod.

You don't know what Paul did or said, but you finally received a phone call from Embry and you answer with quickness.

"Hey." he just says.

"Hey? Embry where have you been? I didn't know I had to raise a child by myself." you say to him with irritation.

"Look..I'm sorry..." he sighs and continues, "I don't think I would be a good parent." he says.

You scoff on the phone and quietly say, "Wow."

"I'm not ready, Y/N. We're still in school. I just.."

"You should've thought all about this before telling me how great parents we would be." you say, a spike is in your throat and tears are threatening to spill over. He broke your heart. You take a glance at the baby who is snug and sleeping in a bassinet. You sniff.

"I'm sorry." he says again.

"You're right. You are sorry." you hiss at him and hang up the phone.

"That's all he can say?" Paul asks you as he sat on the couch, gently rocking baby who's stirring. You told him everything.

"Yeah." you say as you flop down on the couch next to him, with such defeat.

"Tsk...You can at least get some sleep while I'm here. I'm not in a rush to go anywhere." Paul tells you and you look at him as if you couldn't believe it.

"It's okay, Paul. You don't hav-"

"Y/N. Sleep." he says.

You slept. You slept and felt so refreshed.

You always felt refreshed since then. With Paul's help, you were able to get caught up with homework and walk across the stage to get your piece of paper.

You both decided to try to make it work. You were hesitant at first, fearing that he would run off but he made it known that he wasn't going to do that to you. You knew he was serious by hogging up the baby. You had to tell him that you were the mother and he should let you hold them. You often chuckled how excited he would get to hold the small child.

Walking out of the newly found house that you and Paul were set to move into, laughs and plans were made.

"Y/N." you hear a familiar voice call out to you. You turn around and see Embry in a car, with his window down. He pulls over and gets out and takes a look at the scenery in front of him.

The baby of course was in Paul's arms and you were holding two sets of keys. One for the car you were going to get in and the other one for the house behind you.

"Paul, what are you doing?" Embry asks.

"Stepping up."

"You? Stepping up? The hell do you know about parenting?" Embry says and looks him up and down.

"More than you obviously."

"Seriously, Y/N?" he asks you, trying to reach your understanding.

"I have someone to help me out."

"Who? You're telling me that Paul is a good help?" Embry asks in disbelief.

"It's a shame the baby knows him more than they know you." you snap at him. You didn't want Embry to downplay Paul's help and his heart.

"What? I can't believe you're really believing that Paul is going to be great at co-parenting. I don't want my kid around him!" Embry hisses.

You scoff, "He's certainly doing a way better job than you." You push past him, angry and upset at his audaciousness.

Paul safely straps the young, small child in the car seat and you both make your way back to your current residency.

Embry looked at the car leaving. He wouldn't have bet one cent on Paul being good at raising a child. He couldn't deny the words that spilled from your lips. The baby looked healthy, he himself haven't came around as much as he should. He felt ashamed. Ashamed that he didn't buckle up to be there for his own child in their earliest moments on Earth.

[ghoastixx]

Hello!! Do you think you could do a poly!lost boys x male reader, where the reader gets their tonsils removed? Like, he get it done during the day and hadn’t thought to tell the boys so when night falls he doesn’t meet up with them at the boardwalk so they go to his house, thinking he’s finally finished with them, (trust issues galore, I swear) only to find him resting in bed, drugged up and sore.

Fluffy cuddling and a bit of a delirious reader who gets upset a little and cries from the soreness of the surgery. Comfort.

Please and thank you!!

Poly!lost boys x male delirious reader

notes: OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY THAT I WAS AWAY FOR SO LONG. SCHOOL STARTED AGAIN AND MY COLLEGE ASSIGNMENTS ARE BEATING MY ASS!!!!

author's notes: I haven't written anything for the lost boys in a damn hot minute so this will probably be shitty.

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

Everything. hurt. That's all you could think of as you lay in your bed, listening to the waves of santa carla luring your pain to sleep. Despite such peacefulness for you, a certain group of boys were..quite restless tonight.

"Where is he?" Paul huffed impatiently, fiddling with one of the bracelets he nicked off a pretty little thing after bleeding her dry a few weeks ago. "Did he say anything about not being here yesterday?"

"I don't think so," Marko responded, bored out of his mind. David was smoking a cigarette, seemingly somewhere else in his mind as Dwayne kept his eyes out for any sign of their human pet boyfriend.

"Do you think he's mad at us?" Paul all but whined,

"For what? We didn't do nuthin'" Marko all but barked back, which caused a sharp glare from Dwayne.

The boys were only so patient, waiting around their bikes for an hour before they came to a conclusion. You didn't love them anymore.

So, jumping onto their bikes, they drove to your place, deciding that you would have to face up to the facts of your loss of love. You should tell them damnit! Besides.. you knew too much... surely you'd taste sweet..

You sat up in bed, thinking you heard approaching bikes and the sound of boots on the wooden floors. A few scrapes at your window, taps on the walls. All it took was a whine coming from your form for the boys to quit their antics, stepping into your bedroom.. god you smelled so sweet.. The sound of you so distressed was unusual, usually you were a bit more tough, something was obviously wrong.

The boys felt relieved whenever you eased up at the sight of them. "Boys? What're you doing here?" You murmured, a bit sleepy. David spoke up before anyone else could, still a bit skeptical.

"You didn't show. We got worried about you." You tilted your head a bit which Paul found adorable, he strolled right over to your bed and sat his pretty little ass down onto it, he always adored your "nest."

"Did I not tell you guys?"

"Tell us what?" Dwayne asked, he could all but sense the pain that was zipping through your body.

"Got my tonsils out today, wasn't gonna come out tonight."

"Your tonsils out?" Marko questioned,

"No puppy, you didn't tell us." David spoke a bit gruffly, coming off a bit more blunt than intended.

"Had us worried about you." Dwayne backed him up.

What none of the boys expected was for you to start...sniffling? Paul instantly perked up.

"oh no no no, baby- what's got you so upset?"

"I'm sorry," your words slurred, "didn't mean to make you guys upset- don't want you mad at me-"

Marko, frowning, went and joined Paul in your bed, flopping down onto it and playing with your hair. Dwayne walked over, touching your cheek.

"How many drugs do they have you on?" He all but mumbled.

"Hurts-" was all you had to say for David to finally cave, coming over to your bed with the others, sitting down on the side of it.

"I know, bub, just lay down, we'll make it go away."

The waves of santa carla's beaches were quiet against the sound of four purring vampires and one sleepy human sandwiched between them. When you woke up the next morning, a note from Dwayne was left on your bedside table.

"Don't strain yourself. Be back tonight,"

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Me again lol

Could you do #19: “did you walk here”

With all Paul, David, Marko, and Dwayne?

Scenario: reader’s parent was short and aggressive with him so he tried to avoid them without leaving the house, only to hear said parent on the phone acting completely different with their sibling, AKA nice/understanding/playful. And it got too much to hear so reader just left the house and walked to the cave. Angst with comfort?

If this is all too specific, i understand! Still love everything you write.

I hope you like this! It's slightly different than your concept, but when I began to write the words, they just kind of started to run with it? Anyways, I hope you like this!

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

Four silhouettes stood on top of the cliff, their faces hidden by the shadows casted by the bright lights of the motorcycles they were sitting on. As I slowly walked closer, my legs were tired from the long walk, I couldn't help but overheard what they were saying.

"I don't know what you're going to do today, but I do know that we need to pick him up," Dwayne said, ignoring the annoyed look David shot him.

"No shit," he glared, "but if you think that's a one man job, you're wrong."

"He knows how to handle his family," Paul shrugged, mentally agreeing with Dwayne that it didn't really matter who picked their boyfriend up, as long as it happened.

"Doesn't mean he should have to," Marko answered, looking at David and then the others. "But if we all go, we might make things worse. We know he isn't ready to cut ties yet, so we shouldn't force him to."

"You ehr - you don't really have to worry about that," I said, my voice more unsteady than I had meant it to be.

"Are you alright?" Paul, who was closest to me, pulled me towards him. I stumbled due to the sudden movement, glad that he caught me before I fell.

"Like now, or before you grabbed me?" I asked teasingly, but it was painfully clear I wasn't quite in a joking mood.

"What happened?" David asked, his voice softer than I had heard before. I sighed as I sat down on Paul's bike, looking at the ground.

"I always knew they had a favourite," I tried to shrug it off, but saying it out loud only made it more real, "I just never thought they'd make it so painfully obvious."

The more I spoke, the angrier I began to feel. The angrier I got, the more tears burnt in my eyes. How could they - my parents, the ones who were supposed to love me no matter what - treat me so differently than my sibling? Why were they so distant towards me, as if I were the dirt under their shoes. What did my sibling do to deserve their love? Was it because they were younger? They needed their help more?

"Another fight, hm?" David lifted my face up with his hand, forcing me to look at him. "Your parents are idiots, I hope you know that."

I gave him a small smile and nodded. "It still hurts."

"No shit," Dwayne chuckled, "but it will lessen over time. Besides, you don't have to deal with them ever again if you don't want to."

"But they're my parents. I live there, I mean, I know I walked off tonight but I can't just leave..."

"And why not?" Marko popped up behind me. "If it's your things you're worried about, we got that covered. If you're scared that you'll see your parents on the boardwalk, we will deal with them. There's no need for you to go back if you don't want to."

"Wait, hold up!" Paul looked at me, worry on his face. "You said walked off. Did you walk here?"

I nodded.

"Fucking hell! Babe, that's an over four hour walk!"

I nodded, smiling sheepishly. "My feet do hurt."

"Marko, get some food. Dwayne, Paul, go and pick up his stuff. You're moving in with us tonight."

"Isn't that a bit fast?" I asked, a slight frown appearing on my forehead.

"I don't know anyone who would walk four hours just to see their boyfriends. Shut up, you live with us now."

I chuckled as he lifted me up, making sure I wouldn't have to walk any further today. "Okay, I guess."

[huggybearhughes43]

Call me?

John Marino x Fem!reader

Summary- John is away for a hockey game against the canes and all he wants to do when he gets back to his hotel room is to call you, his best friend.

Warnings- smut, phone sex, masturbation (m), dirty names, Johnnys sharing a room with someone (😇), itty bitty daddy kink

Words- 1.1k

John had been so busy with his schedule with the NJ Devils that he almost never had time to spend with me. Us two had been best friends since High school then Harvard and were pretty much inseparable since then. Even his twin brother, Paul, considered me family. Today was no different for his lack of time for me. He traveled to Raleigh, North Carolina for a game against the canes. Growing up, I always watched the Canes because that was my family's team but now that I’m so close with John, Itend to only watch the teams that he’s currently on. First the Oilers, then Penguins, and now the Devils. 

Even though I am seven hours away from him at the moment I still turned the game on the tv and watched for John. The game was insanely tight and nerve wracking, going into overtime still 0-0, I knew John would be upset. What made it even worse was the winning goal, the winning goal that the opposing team got. The buzzer going off and sirens going off to let everyone know that the Canes won. I sigh softly and turn off the tv. I pick up my phone and text John to call me when he’s back at the hotel.

I go about my night, laying down for bed, scrolling through my phone in the darkness as I wait for my best friend to call me. I turn on a movie and in about fifteen minutes I hear my phone ring softly. I pause the tv and pick up my phone, my face being softly illuminated by the tv. John looked as if he had just gotten out of the shower, presumably in the bathroom with water dripping out of his curly hair. 

I spoke up first, already knowing how he felt about the game. “Johnny” I smile softly, “I watched the game. You played so well.”. He laughs and shakes his hair then runs his hand through it. He sits his phone on the counter and I become aware that he’s shirtless and just has a towel around his waist. I’m suddenly so glad my face is barely lit up, I knew he couldn't see my face change to a softer red color. “Didn’t play good enough.” he sighs then looks in the mirror, looking disappointed but then he looks at the phone and grabs it, walking out of the bathroom. 

“How was your day, y/n?” he asks in a hush whisper. His face could no longer be seen on facetime, only a dark screen. I just assumed the player he was bunnking with had already gone to bed and he didn’t want to disturb them. I smile softly and start off from the beginning, like John always told me to do. He always wanted to know every detail, boring, exciting, he always wanted to know if I met anyone new or if I saw a pretty sunset. He especially loved hearing about my days when he was away for a game.

“Nothing much, same old same old.” I start off, “I got coffee this morning then went straight to work…” I think for a moment. “Kinley”, my work best friend, “introduced me to her new boyfriend. He was okay I guess, she’s had worse. I got off of work early and went out to eat with my mom at this fancy restaurant down by the coastline.” I smile at the memory, “It was freezing.” I trail off. “I ate those leftovers for dinner and I watched the first two Twilight movies… I’m on the third one now.” I laugh softly. I realize that Johnny has gone quiet but he’s ever this quiet when I talk about my days, he normally comments all through it. 

“Why’d you stop talking?” He asks in a light, breathy voice. I knew something was up and I rolled my eyes. “Thought you got bored of my day.” I smile. “No. K-keep talking.” he tells you and you raise your brows. “I- um, well I mean I watched the game but other than that I didn’t do anything else. You did play well, Though.” “Yeah?” he asks breathlessly. “Yeah.” I responded, “You looked good in that fight too.” I tease and laugh softly. I hear what sounds like a whimper come from his end of the call. “You okay, Johnny?” no response, seconds later he lets out a soft groan. “Johnny?” “Keep talking” he nearly moans out, “Please?”. I finally realize what he’s doing. 

“You could’ve just told me”. Me and John never dated but we were each other's first everything. First kiss, first smoking buddy, first fuck, basically first everything that counts. I sigh and lay back down on my bed. “I could’ve sent you something to help you” I say confidently. “Fuck, y/n… you can’t just make empty promises like that.” He moans, then bites his lip so his roommate doesn’t wake up. “It wasn’t empty… still need help?” “y/n, baby, please be a good girl and help me.” He bites back another moan. “Yes, sir” I say jokingly and set my phone down and pull off my shirt swiftly. I lay back on the bed again but this time I angle the camera so I can show off my bare breasts this time. “Better?” I ask innocently.

He moans out a ‘fuck’ and groans softly. “y/n, baby, I wish I were there to mark those pretty little tits, to cum on them… such a good girl f’me, hm? Like being a good girl for daddy?”. I smirk mischievously, he hasn’t said anything like that since college and it made a pool of wetness form in my panties. “Love being a good girl for you daddy.” I keep my smirk as I move my hand up and squeeze one of my tits, pinching the nipple and rolling it in my finger. “Fuck Johnny,” I whimper, “miss you s’much, wish it were you here doing this f’me.” I slur my words and my lips form into a soft smile as I hear a raspy groan from his end and I knew he was close. “Come on, daddy,” I egg him on, “Cum f’me, pretend you’re cumming in me… god, I wish you were.” I bite my lip and look straight into the camera. 

The flash suddenly comes on his camera, and I get a clear view of his abs twitching as he cums all over his stomach. “Made me make a mess” He huffs teasingly. I laugh softly and readjust the camera as I put my shirt back on then I bring it back to my face as it was at the beginning of the call. “Johnny, baby, get some rest. You gotta travel all the way to Seattle tomorrow.”. He groans in protest, “What about you? There’s no way you aren’t horny right now.” “Guess you’ll have to make it up to me when you come home for the game against the kings, hm?”

~

~

Yall, I kinda ate this one up

[sgiandubh]

Hi sgiandubh! Happy weekend!

Have you seen the clip of the interaction between Sam, John, and Cait at the New York Comic Con photoshoot? It seemed like Sam didn’t like how John was behaving towards Cait and got a bit possessive.😉 Obviously all was well a few minutes later when they walked out on stage for the panel 😊, but it seemed like a purely instinctual reaction by Sam to get a little possessive of her for a second.

You seem to really have a knack for analyzing body language so that’s why I wanted to ask! Thanks for answering!

Dear Interaction Anon,

I am sorry for the delay. I am in the middle of a very busy week: while it is true I took the bulk of my leftover paid leave and I am currently at home, I also have some very important and urgent things to sort out, so it is what it is.

I think you can find some very decent explanations on some other blogs and I also think @the-sassynach did a fabulous job with her more than clear gifs (https://www.tumblr.com/the-sassynach/764677465702645760/lmfao?source=share).

Particularly this one, if you ask me:

You may think of any number of reasons why that photoshoot looked a bit 'off' (jealousy, possessiveness, uxoriousness, being drunk, being sassy, etc). The fact is that despite the 'look relaxed and spontaneous' brief, they managed to show us the exact opposite. They looked tense and fake, completely unlike what they were supposed to do. Why?

Because you can control many things in life, spare Paul Ekman's facial micro expressions. There are 7 of them: happiness, sadness, anger, disgust, contempt, fear, & surprise. And all of these are universal, which means you can't fool anyone on this planet, regardless of the culture the person hails from - they would get the schtick of it immediately. And they are impossible to control, because they express an emotional, immediate response to an outside stimulus, the person might even be completely unaware of.

The most interesting game would perhaps be to see how many of them can you see in @the-sassynach's gifs? Once you do this, boom: the story writes itself.

Here is a very useful breakdown of Ekman's theory, illustrated: https://www.osc.org/microexpressions-universal-language/. I think you, along with many, will find it very useful and perhaps enlightening. And while some might think it's bullshit, let them: reading body language is a core competence in business intelligence, for example. I know what I am saying, because let's say I am no stranger to it.

[factcheckingmclennon]

banana milkshakes in paris: fact or fiction?

"John and I went to Paris on birthday money he received from a relative. He must have been fond of me to spend that money. He let me have all the banana milkshakes I wanted." -Paul McCartney

this quote goes around a lot. so...

did paul mccartney say john "let (him) have all the banana milkshakes (he) wanted?"

rating....

no, this quote is completely fake. however, there IS a real quote about the banana milkshakes. let's get into it!

first let's get into the fake part.

the oldest source of this quote online seems to be this deviantart post from 2011. it's full of other pretty bizarre quotes, including john saying him and paul had sex, and after that it's only turned up on tumblr/other forums. (disclaimer: as it's over 10 years old, i'm linking directly. if you are this user and you want me to take down this link, let me know please! and if you know this user, don't harrass them. it also has a collection of some other quotes that get passed around. i haven't deep dived into any of them, though i do know the quote about sex and love from john IS real as there's video of it, but take a gander and take the rest of these w a huge grain of salt if you see them around as well.)

so the quote itself???

but as for the real quote, it's actually still pretty similar so idk why anyone would make this up honestly. possibly just this user misremembering this quote & paraphrasing without saying they were paraphrasing? anyway.

from a 1987 interview with julia baird (john's sister):

PAUL: We went to Paris – we were supposed to be in Spain, but we couldn’t get past Paris, we enjoyed that so much – on the strength of his hundred quid [given to him] when he was twenty-one. We went hitchhiking. We kind of said, “Well, look, I mean, we can get to Spain on this,” you know, a hundred quid, and he was kind of um… I mean, I don’t think he was funding me as much as he was spending. JULIA: Yeah, yeah. PAUL: And I’d be there for the banana milkshake. [Julia and Paul laugh] You know, I’d just happen to be there while he was spending. I think I kind of paid my own way. But we hitched, we hitched out. And we used – we realised that in – hitching, in those days, was much safer, obviously, than it is to hitchhike now – and we realised that we had to have a bit of a gimmick. So we both had these leather jackets and we had bowlers, we got bowler hats. We thought that’ll take the edge of the kind of hoodie look, you know, that sort of ruffian look, in these bowlers. And you kind of go, “Hey!” and people would stop, you know, because this is just a couple of daft guys in bowler hats, they don’t look like a threat.

(source) (sidenote, yes that source is my blog, but since it's audio, that's something i'm willing to buy from blogs. same with video. there's really nothing too mclennon-y about this audio, so there'd be no reason to go through all that trouble faking it. i just saved it on archive.org for when i inevitably change my url on my main.)

so, did john buy paul banana milkshakes in paris?

(also, quick shoutout to @beatlesbabytrapping for correcting me on this one back on my main! i originally thought it was completely fake but penny came in clutch w this audio)

[papil0nglegs]

Hello hello helloooo. Saw you wanted tf2 request! So herr comes something.

What about the mercs with a gnSO who has a puppy crush on them? I think that would be really cute. Eould really want spy in there but pick whoever you want :))

Tf2 x Puppy love!Reader

warning: suggestive, manipulation, situationship?, knife-play

A/n: you can tell I had no idea what to put for the images LOL!! Anyways I’m finally going to write tf2 cuz I can, uhm idk what other mercs to put so I just put 3 ;-; I might make a pt 2 with the rest depending on how this does soooo

Spy

He catches on so quickly

He doesn’t do anything about it of course, cmon it’s spy

He’s an observer, so spy is just waiting for you to do something

You getting shy around him is just so amusing to him, he can’t help but let your little situation continue

“ahem, Hey spy! Ggreat-good-youspy-you did good on the battlefield today 🙂”

Oh my god someone kill you please

“..uh huh”

UGHH, the pain you felt after that

You screamed in your pillow for hours

His amusement later turned into toying with you, he got kinda bored from you just asking him lame questions and trying to start conversations

He’d offer you his cigarette after a stressful day of fighting, if you accept you’d be a coughing mess because of how nervous you were around him

‘omg does this mean he likes me? No spy doesn’t like anyone,, is it a blue spy? Why is he acting so weird?? Is he about to ask me for something?’

You’d just be taking the cancer stick while staring at the floor, thoughts flooding your mind.

Meanwhile spy was simply eyeing you, watching as you became a silent nervous wreck

After that interaction he’d notice you making it more obvious that you liked him.

Whenever he gave his little speeches you’d stare at him with puppy eyes, not hearing a single word he said

He knew that he could get you to do anything for him at that moment

Sometimes it’d get you in or out of trouble

Once he called you over to him just for you to get shot by a sniper so that he could use you as a distraction

You weren’t mad cuz you were deep in it at that point

Oh boy were you all over that man, you just kept having this mentality that you’d eventually have him at the end of the day

like whenever he’s pissed at the mercs after another failed mission he avoids you for the most part

It’s better than having him pissed at you, otherwise you’d feel like you really fucked up

If anything your relationship would become more sensual, I see him finding the whole ‘puppy love’ thing more cute than turning it into a whole relationship

He’d randomly have whole make out sessions to fuck with you, sometimes even bringing his butterfly knife into the mix

He’d call you his ‘Jolie’ and ‘beau’, names that none of the other mercs would find sus because god forbid some of them can’t even read

He was your poison, and you were his plaything

Scout

Stop

He has a puppy crush on you too ☹️

We’ve all seen the expiration date short, he has no idea how to deal with it

And lord knows he’s going to spy, again

Imagine how he interacted with Ms Pauling on the little computer thing except you’re acting like that too

yeah, a mess

“Wassup”

“Hi!!”

“Oh no you first-“

“What? No you went up to me so pshh“

“Nono it’s okay I went to bother you-“

“Pfft didn’t bother me what! It’s fine you go first”

Jesus.

Sometimes you’d do that thing where you stare at him, then he glances at you making you two immediately look away from each other in embarrassment

Pls don’t let him know you have a crush on him, it’ll raise his ego like no other

Spy would straight up let him know, I mean it was pretty obvious

“oh… oh”

Oh no!! He’s going to do cringey shit now :((

During a ‘meeting’, his adidas met your shoes

When you looked over at him he was just snickering at you like some school boy, biting his lip

Holy fuck were you flustered, he thought he had you wrapped around his finger but if anything he was wrapped around yours just as much as you were

You flashed your lashes at him, wrapping your ankle around his, making the situation a mutual thing

He’d try to impress you so much on the battlefield

Whenever he saw a fight you were clearly winning, he’d still run in to “save” you

“Yup, I just did that.”

Was it corny? Sure, but you still admired him

“Fffuck scout, you’re so cool..”

Even when you guys aren’t fighting he’d still try to impress you

“Hey y/n!! This one’s for you!!”

He’d throw a blu spy’s head in the air (that he totally ‘borrowed’ from medic) and completely miss with his bat

He reached your limit at that point, everything about that moment was just so him

“HOLY FUCK THAT WAS DOGSHIT!! I NEED YOU INSIDE OF ME RIGHT NOW”

You screamed with heart eyes, the whole base probably heard you

“OH OKAY?? BET”

You guys slobbered all over each other’s faces as you made your way to his bedroom

Spy didn’t know if he should feel proud or disappointed, either way he was sorta happy scout found love here

Medic

This man could breath around you and you’d be impressed

You idolize him sm

You really shouldn’t, but you do!!

You’d watch him while he does his surgery’s, he’d call you his ‘assistant’ since you (obv) assist him

But sometimes you daydream into him too much, and when he asks for assistance..

“Towel forceps..”

“👁️👁️”

“….towel forceps?”

“You’re so smart..”

“vat??”

You simply kept admiring him, he just looked back at his hands that were digging into his patients insides, then back at you in utter confusion

When you tell scout about your little crush he gets excited about it until you tell him who it is

“Toots, tell me who it is.”

“Medic 💕”

“😐”

LMAO he hates you so much for that

If medic pockets you you’d get so flustered

Like “oh 🤭 little ol’ me?😚😚”

It gives you so much motivation when he Ubers you, if you fail then your done for!! You don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him!! :(

Once he feels the same way about you he makes it obvious in.. his way??

“Maus!! I’ve gotten you a gift ☺️”

“gasp omg what’d you get me??”

“a bird heart specimen”

“wow..!”

I mean it’s a gift?

He’d be the one to confess first because Yk medic, he’s not one to shy away from his feelings

He’d confess by putting a small present on your bed, once you opened it you found a yellow rose with red tips, and a letter written in cursive (done by spy)

“It hurts me everyday, to see you. So elegant, so sweet, I yearn to be with you, to hear every heart beat.

I pray that I’ll never live the pain, that I’ll stay in solitary, alone in my grave.

So while our blood flows, and while our hearts beat. Just know our lives are short, will you spend yours with me?”

You squealed so much, screaming into your mattress and kicking your feet

Once you saw him again, you immediately went in for a kiss

How could you hold back after such a sweet letter?

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 3 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 12k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: very excited for this chapter because you guys finally get to see what a big part of fic will deal with. keeping everyone who reads on in my prayers <3 (you'll need it)

i've also added a small playlist for this fic. in case you'd like to dive in the link is above!

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 3 - The Sky

‘‘The sky here’s very strange. I often have the sensation when I look at it that it's a solid thing up there, protecting us from what’s behind.’ ‘But what is behind?’ Her voice was very small. ‘Nothing, I suppose. Just darkness. Absolute night.’’

- Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

The body is resting against the only intact wall of the cabin, to Joel's left. Propped up next to the fireplace, the scene around it leaving no doubt about the finality of it. Blue hair drenched in red, thick liquid pooling below and running through the crevices of the weathered and beaten wood.

He barely registers Tommy’s footsteps behind him nor that they come to a sudden halt.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath. 

Joel is the one that steps forward, kneeling down next to the fireplace, his hand gently reaching out to touch the pale skin of her hand. “She’s already cold. Must’ve been a few hours,” he whispers, his voice dangerously close to cracking.

“We need to alert the others. What if these guys are already at the gates? Maria has no clue-”

“Tommy-” Joel gently tries to stop the rambling of his brother, but he can't bring himself to take his eyes off her. But the other man is barely listening, his feet shuffling anxiously as he reaches for his rifle.

“Joel, goddamn it, I mean it. Get up. They may be waiting for the moment to attack-”

“There is no attack,” Joel says, again, and his voice feels too calm for what he’s implying. 

He stalls for a moment, the realization coming to him that he’s gotten too good at this. He’s gotten too good at being in the presence of death, likely better than he ever has been in the presence of people.

He carefully leans forward, using his free hand to gently push the fabric of her hoodie out of the way, glancing down at the wound and giving a small nod. He doesn't need to see the way Tommy’s shoulders fall. He feels the air shift as his brother comes to the conclusion Joel has found much faster. They both know why he got there quicker. Takes one to know one.

“Why would she-” Tommy breaks off, turning his gaze away from the thing he doesn't understand. “I don't know,” Joel mutters under his breath. It hasn't hit him yet, the full force of what this means. Of the consequences it will draw. “We need to get her back to Jackson.” But he can’t really focus on that. Not when he has your best friend’s lifeless body next to him without a clue where you are.

“Do you think-” There's a heavy pause. “Did she do this alone?” Tommy asks, placing his rifle next to the door and beginning to look around the cabin for something useful.

Joel immediately knows what he's asking. But he shakes his head. “I don't think she would have- There's no sign anyone else was here.”

His head is spinning, screaming at him to do the one thing he knows. He needs to find you.

And then he doesn't. Because before they can even begin to move the body, he can hear hooves approaching outside. He recognizes the fast gallop of your horse even before you call their names.

“Lane?! Joel?! Tommy?!” Your lungs hurt from calling them. It was easy enough to follow the tracks, spurring your own horse on much more than you dared on any patrol so far. The mare almost seems relieved when you reach the two other horses and you slide off her back in one quick motion.

It's at the same moment that the door flies open, Joel crossing the small veranda in a few strides. You freeze in your tracks. “Where-?” The words die in your throat. Joel carefully makes his way towards you, his steps slow and controlled. Your eyes fly to his hands. They’re bloody. He has almost reached you when you find his eyes again. There is a gentleness in them that confuses you for a split second.

And then it all makes sense. You don't want the blood, you don't want that look in his eyes, you don't want any of it once you realize what it means.

“No.” Your voice comes out all wrong and you don't know if he heard you. If anyone can.

“It's okay. Come here,” Joel mumbles as he reaches you, carefully sneaking his arm around you. He tries to pull you close and he's not sure whether it's for your or his sake. Maybe both.

“No. Joel, where is she?”

He shushes you again, readying himself to catch you if your knees give out, his grip around you tightening ever so slightly.

Joel Miller has come to know you fairly well over the past years. At least he likes to think he does and you've rarely caught him off guard. But today you do.

“Where is she?!” Your knees don't give out. Not even close. They bend just enough for you to slip past the broad man in front of you, taking off with a run towards the door of the cabin.

It takes him a second to register what has happened. Then, he’s storming after you as fast as his legs will allow him.

“Tommy!” he yells out, hoping that if he won't be able to stop you, at least his brother will. But it's he who catches up with you just as you take the first step onto the veranda, roughly pulling you back by your arm, hard enough that it sends both of you tumbling to the floor.

He barely registers the way the wooden step digs into his ribs and knocks the air out of his lungs. Instead, his fingers stay tightly wrapped around your arm. “Fucking let go, Joel! Let me see her!”

He doesn't know what to say. He can't tell you that he simply can't. That it would stay with you forever, even more than this will anyway.

“Come here,” he just repeats weakly, bringing his other arm around to pull you in. One of your knees is bleeding, your jeans ripped open where you hit the floor with full force. Joel makes a mental note to clean the wound later.

Your body is trembling much harder than you thought possible as you let Joel pull you into his arms. It has nothing to do with the cold. You don't even feel like you're able to recognize temperature. An absurd concept, that your body would adjust to any of it, that it would ever stop shaking and trembling. Joel's arms feel like he's all around you, wrapping his body around yours, sheltering you from what is only a few feet away. 

Your lungs that were burning just a minute ago seem to not be a part of you anymore. They in- and exhale in their own rhythm, one that feels too fast and too slow all at once. You hear Joel muttering into your ear, but you can't make out the words. Your cheeks are wet. You don't know why.

The world dissolves around you and you briefly wonder if you’re dying. It's not a shocking idea that gets you up and fighting. You wonder about death the same way you would about whether or not they have soap at the store. The world has almost gone dark when you realize you are not, in fact, dying. But, even as the strength leaves your muscles and you collapse against the body next to you, you are aware that something has.

***

You regain consciousness, just for a moment. There is a steady rise and fall around you and at first you think it's your lungs expanding and deflating. But as you open your eyes enough to catch a glimpse of your surroundings, they move. Up and down. Slow and steady.

You're on horseback, pressed against a broad chest that has to be Joel’s. His arms are pulling you tightly into him, keeping you upright, making sure you won't fall off. You don't think you could bring yourself to care. It probably wouldn't even hurt. In fact, every part of your body should hurt with the way you were running earlier, with how you fell onto the stairs, bone crunching as it took the blow to your side. But oddly enough, it feels like you're floating, like your mind is far away from your body and equally far away from Joel. There is a disconnect, a faulty wire. One that simmers, undetected, till it snaps one random afternoon and sets the whole house on fire.

You still feel like you’re drifting in and out of consciousness when the movement below you slows and you feel yourself being lifted down by strong, steady arms. They are a constant around you, a shield that protects you from what is beyond.

Word about your disappearances has traveled fast but not fast enough for no one to ask any questions. There have rarely been any runaways in Jackson, except for the occasional teenagers who usually show up again the day after- and the couple last year. The bodies Joel had found in the abandoned hotel. Why was he always the one to find them?

People approach, some calling out to the odd group arriving. Tommy leading both horses and shushing those who call out to them while Joel holds you close, staring down anyone who so much as tries to approach him.

“I’ll go and fetch Maria and we can-” Tommy pauses, his gaze wandering from his brother's face to the curled up body below it. He can't bring himself to say it. Not like this, not in front of you. 

Joel gives a curt nod, understanding. “Tell Maria we're at my place. And-” A small sigh escapes his lips. “Make sure she arranges for a group immediately.”

The younger man swallows hard and turns away. Infected will happily devour any meat they're given, no matter if they've hunted it down themselves. He doesnt think he could bear going back and finding a scene like that. His steps speed up.

You only catch glimpses of the people around you, words being whispered, conversations being started and then abruptly breaking off. And you still feel light, so light that you think you could just float away, disappear into the blue until you’d reach the horizon and whatever lies beyond. But you're wrapped in the dark leather coat that keeps sliding off your shoulders, wrapped in Joel’s arms, and so it won't happen. He won't let you float away. 

For all you know, all of the sounds and glimpses could be figments of your imagination, something like a dream or a fleeting memory of a book you’ve read as a child, one that you remember the cover and smell of, remember that it made you feel something, and yet, the story won't come to mind anymore. Above all, this can be, needs to be, something that is unreal. Because otherwise, you dont think you’ll be able to get through it.

You don't move. You let Joel carry you down Rancher Street, you let him nudge your head further into his chest as you realize you must be passing the corner of the graveyard. It seems impossible that you walked by it just a few hours ago, with your mind on the library and which exams to set and dinner this weekend. It all feels like a lifetime ago, a memory that doesn't belong to you but rather someone else.

The morning fog sunk back into the earth hours ago, the rays of the sun forcing it to clear. The sky above you feels close enough to touch, a vibrant and comforting shade of blue spanning from the tops of the wooden houses to the mountains in the distance.

You were just a baby when your father put up a swing in your backyard, strong ropes tied to the branch of an old oak tree. You must have heard the story a million times. Him, getting out his tools while you were watching from your blanket on the grass, not quite able to move your head on your own yet. But he insisted that your large eyes followed him around, contently staying where you were as he worked. 

You didn't understand, when hearing him talk about it, why he'd build a swing for someone too small to play on it. It only set in years later that he'd simply been that excited to bring home a little daughter and build something for her and fill the backyard with children's and adults' laughter alike.

That evening, he put you on his lap, one arm securely wrapped around the tiny form that was your body then, gently moving both of you back and forth. You’d fallen asleep almost instantly.

It became your favorite spot, and the way he talked about it years after you had left the house and the garden behind, it had been his too. You loved kicking your feet or spurring your father on to push you harder, watching as your legs soared towards the blue sky.

It seemed to you, back then, that you were miles above the ground, imagining what it'd be like to let go and drift off into the sky, to go up, up, up until your house would be nothing more than a small square below you, surrounded by green.

Joel carries you into the living room. He doesn't seem to want to leave you alone. And he seems restless.

He gets on his knees in front of you, soft brown eyes taking in your face. You avoid meeting them, curling further into the couch. His lips are moving but you can’t hear what he says.

After a few moments pass, you can tell he’s waiting for a response so you nod, almost in slow motion. He seems satisfied with that, saying something else before getting dinner started. It probably smells good, but you don't think you know good anymore.

You get through two potatoes, a bit of salad and chicken before you push your chair back, hurrying down the hallway as Joel scrambles after you.

You make it to the bathroom just in time, falling to your knees in front of the toilet as your stomach begins emptying itself. A sharp pain shoots through the knee that collided with the stairs of the cabin earlier. At the thought of the cabin, another wave of sickness hits you. It's violent, the way your throat convulses, your body trying to empty itself of whatever is inside.

But there is no purging the things inside of you. The thoughts and the memories and the images- god, the images. Lane, hunched over a table. Lane, holding a knife while you make dinner. Lane, laughing. Lane, placing a gun to her head. Lane, crying.

The steady flow of scenarios provided by your brain is broken by another wave of nausea, even though this time it is just dry heaving, your stomach already empty. Your head is not.

You don't hear the rushed footsteps behind you, but you feel the calloused hands pulling your hair out of the way and rubbing your back.

“There you go, get it all out,” Joel coos quietly. It's not his fault. That he doesn't immediately connect the dots as you start sobbing, choking for air. The sobs, your lungs demanding air, your stomach blocking the way, clearly insistent on getting everything out of your system.

You’re positive that the noises coming out of your mouth do not sound like yourself or, for that matter, sound human at all. They're a mix of gasping and heaving, back and forth, as your fingers clench around the toilet seat so hard you feel like it may break.

Joel is very lost and very determined not to let you notice. He has never seen you in this much pain, not when he washed you in the bathroom upstairs nor when you were seconds away from being ripped apart by an Infected. He cannot know that on the first night spent with Lane you were hunched over a toilet just like this, throwing up the blueberry muffins that had been too much for your starved stomach to handle. He cannot know she held your hair like he holds it now, fingers firmly wrapped around it, occasionally sweeping a loose strand behind your ear.

You're not sure how long you sit there like this, the cold tiles uncomfortably pressing into Joel's already sore knees, when he carefully leans you against the wall as he fetches a few towels, letting the water run until it's warm, to wet one of them and wipe your face.

His eyes fly over your features, concern etched into every part of his face. You weakly try and raise your arm to take the towel from him, unwilling to just sit and watch. But he shakes his head firmly, his gaze determined. “Let me, okay? You just focus on breathing.”

As he reaches for another towel, you feel your empty stomach filling again. With a heavy, uncomfortable guilt, one you wish you could throw right back up. Tears shoot into your eyes again but this time Joel doesn't hesitate.

“What's going on? Tell me what you're thinking,” he mutters, his thumb brushing over the side of your face as his other hand uses the towel to dab over your chin, carefully wiping the remainder of the vomit away.

“I wasted your food,” you half-whisper, your voice raw. Joel's face falls, for a moment.

“Nothing is ever wasted on you, you hear me?” he mumbles quietly, moving on to wipe your cheek. “I can always make more.”

He doesn't seem to mind that you cry again at that.

***

It must be past midnight when you wake up the next time. The room is only dimly lit now, and a blanket is tucked around you, your eyes facing the worn-out fabric of the couch Joel set you down on earlier. Earlier feels very far away.

You turn, slowly, glad to find that your stomach seems to decide to give it a rest for now. It still lurches slightly as you squint into the dining room, seeing two figures hunched over the wooden table.

“Joel?” you try to call his name, quietly, but your throat feels dry and the word turns into a cough instead. Your fingers rub your throat, willing it to calm down and relax, as Joel appears in front of you, kneeling down beside the couch and offering you a glass of water. You nod your thanks, using both hands to bring it to your mouth and take a few sips.

“Better?” He hums softly, taking the glass back. You give another nod. If he minds the non-verbal communication, he doesn’t let it show. Instead he turns around, returning with the glass refilled. You gratefully accept it again.

It's only after he's placed it onto the small coffee table that your eyes land on Tommy, leaning against the wooden column separating the two rooms as he watches the scene in front of him. He gives you a swift nod when your eyes meet and something that seems like it was supposed to be a smile but, given the circumstances, fails miserably.

Joel motions for him to come closer. “Come on, it's- have a seat.” Their eyes meet and they seem to communicate silently, no doubt continuing the conversation where they left off.

Tommy sits down. He shuffles his feet, his fingers anxiously tapping the lid of a plastic container that holds some food. Courtesy of Maria, no doubt. Joel takes the spot next to you on the couch and you inch towards him, glad for any kind of support even though you have no clue what is about to happen.

“We- We’re still trying to piece everything together,” Tommy says, his voice quiet and solemn. You tense ever so slightly, listening intently. You're not sure you want to know how or why or any of the other details that will undoubtedly make this more real.

“There was a note in- with her,” he goes on, seemingly choosing his words very carefully. “She said she left you a letter, back at home.” Your eyes automatically fly to Tommy’s sides, half expecting him to pull a piece of paper out of his pocket. He seems to notice your train of thought.

“We're still going through her room, just to make sure- we just want to be certain this happened the way she says it did,” he finishes quietly. You can feel two pairs of eyes on you, but you just nod. Of course. Someone could’ve murdered her and staged it as a suicide. Somehow, that idea didn’t cross your mind. Maybe because you don't think anyone could ever truly hate Lane nearly enough to wish her harm or maybe simply because you already seem to feel in your stomach that her life ended on her own terms.

Joel and Tommy exchange a few glances until Joel awkwardly clears his throat and reaches out to take the plastic container from him. “I'll put this in the fridge.”

The younger brother keeps his eyes on you as you listen to Joel rummaging in the kitchen. His hand awkwardly reaches for your shoulder, hovering above it for a moment before patting it lightly. “I'm so sorry, kid.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” you manage to press out, your own gaze fixed on the opposite wall. You don't want to see the look again, the same one Joel had back at the cabin. In fact, you think you may never want anyone to look at you ever again.

You're still staring at the same spot when the two men head towards the front door a few minutes later. Their voices are low and they must be standing half outside, if the cold creeping into the house is anything to go by. You know their words are not meant for your ears but you still stay absolutely still, listening.

“I’ll bring the letter by tomorrow, okay? Let her get it over with,” Tommy mumbles and you think you hear him shuffling his feet again.

“Yeah, yeah, you do that,” Joel responds, equally quiet. There is a moment of silence. They haven't had a moment to talk about all this, for Joel to consider if he of all people should be the one to take care of you. 

Tommy seems to think along the same lines, even though you can't begin to guess the depth of their seemingly simple words.

“Are you okay to-?” 

Joel gives a shaky nod. “Yeah, ‘ts fine. She needs someone and- Ellie’s staying with Dina for a few days, until we've figured things out.”

Tommy doesn't know what to say. He carefully takes in Joel's face, or at least what he can make out of it in the dim light of the porch. He goes for a hug instead, wrapping his arms around his brother for a fleeting moment, a hand rubbing over the older man's back. “Either of you need anything, we're all here.”

His voice has dropped enough for you not to overhear the last part.

Maybe it's because Joel's own hearing is bad, but he doesn't seem to realize you've been listening when he comes back into the room a few moments later. “I'm sure they'll be done tomorrow. But we should all try and get some sleep now.” He takes a step towards you, gently running his hand over the top of your head. “I put some fresh sheets onto the bed upstairs while you were out. I don't want ya sleeping on the couch.”

You're too tired and exhausted to protest. Besides, you know it would be a waste of time. So you let him help you upstairs, let him wait right outside the bathroom door as you brush your teeth and let him tuck you into bed, the soft sheets a stark contrast against your dirty and scratched up skin. Joel looks down at you for a moment, his fingers tapping against his leg.

“Do you want me to stay here?”

It's almost embarrassing how fast you jump onto the offer, nodding as you finally meet his eyes again. He looks concerned and sad and you hate that you're the cause of it. But you also want his company, more than anything.

Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you shortly afterwards. He’s changed into pajamas, made up of a pair of brown plaid pants and a cream-colored, worn shirt. Compared to you, he actually looks put together. You can see his outline beside you, the candle on his nightstand the only source of light left in the room. It gives everything a dim, orange glow, distantly reminding you of a sunset.

You're suddenly aware of how very heavy your head feels, far too heavy to be held up by your neck. There are too many thoughts in there, you think, they don’t have enough room to breathe. Or to make sense. The faulty wires are back. And they keep your synapses from connecting correctly. Nothing makes sense. 

‘We just want to be certain this happened the way she says it did.’

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice comes out small and still, it seems too loud in the quiet around you.

“Anything,” comes the response, equally quiet even though Joel's voice sounds more steady than yours. You ponder your words for a few moments and you feel him shift beside you, propping his head up on one arm to get a better look at your face. “What is it, darlin’?”

“They brought her back to Jackson, right?”

Joel seems to consider his words for a moment, then he nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, they did.” Even in the dim light, you can feel his eyes on you, searching your face. You turn your face away from him, staring at the stacked records in the corner instead.

“Why would someone go through all that trouble? Bringing her so far out?” The words coming out of your mouth seem as much a surprise to you as they are to Joel. You can hear him suck in a breath beside you. The mattress dips below his weight as he sits up.

“Can you look at me for a moment?”

You obey, turning your head and resting your cheek against your shoulder. You can see Joel's face above you. He looks like he's about to cry. You must be very tired, you think to yourself. Joel Miller doesn't cry.

Before your eyes and mind can drift away again, he swallows and speaks up again, the southern drawl in his voice more present than ever.

“Honey- No one made her go.”

His words are slow, carefully chosen. He knows he is treading a fine line here.

“She did it herself, darlin’.” A small frown has spread over his face, his eyebrows knitted together. “I told you earlier, downstairs. Don’t you remember?”

You shake your head, painfully aware that the gentleness in his tone is back, the same one he’s had earlier at the cabin. You think you know all the things he’s telling you, but you can’t recall Joel saying it. The picture of him in front of the couch appears before your eyes, but you can’t make out the words coming out of his mouth. Again, you find yourself surprised that you're the one who speaks instead.

“Did anyone check her?” 

He pauses at that, the frown deepening. “What do you mean?” 

You take a small breath, your fingers pulling at a loose thread of the sheets below you. “I mean, did they check if she's really-” You pull a little harder and the thread breaks, the thin piece of fabric remaining in your palm.

You wonder if they have wrapped her up yet. If someone’s put fresh clothes on her. If anyone has checked her pulse.

“What if she's not dead?”

“I need you to listen to me.” His voice is slightly more urgent now. “I saw her. And she's gone. I'm so sorry and I wish she wasn't and I know-” His voice comes dangerously close to breaking but he only gives a tiny shake of his head and presses on.

“I know how difficult this must be but you need to understand this. She's gone. She's not coming back.”

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