#mob boss bob in particular

[bobfloydsbabe]

Thank you so much for recommending me and my Bob fics–that means a lot! I didn't even know you read my work 🥹

Top two fic writers?

Can we specify characters?

anon… this is asking a lot of me. cause one, i can’t count. two, idk if i can pick just TWO top writers

so for bradley i’d say @sunlightmurdock (tip rooster🫶) nd @beyondthesefourwalls

jakey id go with @ohtobeleah and @seresinsbabe

for robert i recommend @wildbornsiren and @bobfloydsbabe

and if you’re looking for any great combos i’d point you in the direction of @roosterbruiser

[cafejulii]

Kurapika being deemed by the hxh fandom as one of, if not the most, aesthetically pleasing character in all of hxh is ironically hilarious to me.

While I agree with this sentiment to an extent, as someone who is very keen to elements that make up an inherent sense of asethetic, canonically speaking; it should be expected that Kurapika has almost everything that would go against having a cohesive one. If anything, I am in firm belief that the main reason why he holds such a title is due to the manga covers along with the elegantly crafted filler added in hxh 1999 in which depicts the suffering intertwined with the discovery of his nen ability in such an artistic manner, which then created the baseline aesthetic for the lovely artists of this fandom to further expand upon.

But outside of this? Even so, many hxh fans still agree that he holds a sense of aestheticism to him. It truly does not matter that his color palette is all over the place, or that he would absolutely not care for style, and that, when not his cultural attire or a suit; he dresses as though he had walked into each of his friends closet's, picked out one item from each one, and wore them all together and called it fashion. (They absolutely do not match at all and Killua would absolutely have a stroke at the sheer sight of such grievous combinations).

Specifically talking about these 2011 official arts in which he is one step away from becoming Armin Artlert. (Even complete with the seagull)

Either that, or he dresses like a recently divorced wine mom. Or a butch lesbian. Not to feminize him in any way of course. It’s just the observed truth. It’s just the, pure, unavoidable reality when you dress in those particular color combinations, wear flannel or an oversized sweater, and have that oh so particular “fuck ass bob.”

Specifically talking about these 1999 official arts. A friend of mine had pointed out to me that the one on the right reminded them of Major Hughes’s wife from FMA and I couldn’t stop laughing. Poor 1999 official art Kurapika they did him so wrong.

Though there also many instances in the 1999 official arts in which he does a complete 180, and dresses as though he were the most insufferable character in a shitty 90’s mafia movie. While yes, in the manga, he is technically a mob boss as of now, I genuinely could not fathom watching the absolute mess of succession war unfold with a straight face if he dressed like this.

Yet even still, we have a multitude of artists making the most breathtaking artworks that depict him in agony while holding the eyes of his people almost as if he were some sort of sacrilegious patron, a lot of which are usually inspired Catholic/ Orthodox paintings. (I love these types of arts so much)

Now thinking about it, I suppose, maybe he is so aesthetically appealing because he is an androgynous presenting man with heavy backstory that has many symbolic ties to Christianity as he is representative of Lucifer in juxtaposition to Chrollo who is seen as this twisted version of Jesus Christ. And as we know, it was Lucifer who was considered to be the most “ beautiful of all the angels.”

But anyway, I digress. Bro is just ethereal. Congratulations togashi for creating a character so intentionally-unintentionally aesthetic.

(also this is very much a shitpost please I beg don’t take this seriously at all)

[bobfloydsbabe]

🌹🌹🌹

Hi Kristen! Thank you for the roses, and in return, here's a lil look at MBB and Abby.

from penthouse smut™ (mob boss bob x oc) 18+/mdni

His gaze is completely fixated on her, and he wonders if he’s dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had this particular dream about her, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. The thought of her sucking his cock has been enough to get him off on lonely nights more times than he cares to admit. She’s a wet dream come true.

for every "🌹" received in my inbox i'll post one random sentence of a random WIP i'm currently writing

[burnishedrebel]

Enzo watched with lust fuelled eyes as Selina took his cock into her mouth, the sensation inspiring an unrelenting flow of grunts, growls and moans. Italian curse words mixed in with the praise of his wife in that same foreign language, his tone getting gruffer and words coming quicker as Selina took more of his cock into her mouth and down her throat. When she began bobbing on his achingly hard length, Enzo gripped the arms of his chair and his head fell back, eyes briefly closing as wave upon wave of pleasure started to wash over him. It’d be a while yet before he came, but the mob boss knew he’d enjoy every moment of his wife attending to him. 

As Selina worked his cock, Enzo remained upright in his place, moaning and grunting all the while. It was only when Selina pulled back that Enzo opened his eyes and looked down at her, the sight of her lips smeared with spit and his pre-cum stroking a particular fire within his lusts. Her quip about him cursing and speaking in Italian made Enzo smirk and laugh. “What can I say? You inspire it in me,” he teased, tone still husky and gruff given his arousal. He watched and moaned as Selina made a point of tapping the tip of his cock on her lips before taking his member again, and that time Enzo kept his gaze locked on her face as she began bobbing up and down. 

@siiinfully

She wasn’t surprised when he asked for countless loads. He could be deliciously hedonistic, and she was more than happy to give him what he wanted. Selina missed him too, missed him so much that the ache between her legs was a heated throbbing, but she didn’t touch herself. Not yet. His cock was so close, and soon, her lips were on it, the throbbing shaft hot and hard in her mouth. The fact that her eyes started tearing up – and he wasn’t even halfway in her! – was proof that she’d neglected him for so long. She wasn’t used to having him in her mouth anymore, but she refused to give up, let alone stop, until she could sheath him in her mouth and down her throat.

Selina heard the slew of Italian coming from him, and it made her moan, the muffled sound vibrating around his cock as she started to bob her head up and down. Slow at first, but then faster and faster, until she coughed wetly when she pulled him out, allowing several thick drops of her spit and his pre-cum to fall from her lips. “Talking dirty to me in Italian? Someone has it bad,” she murmured, smirking and tapping the tip of his cock on her mouth…before taking it in again. Her head bobbed up and down again, her eyes closing when the tip struck the back of her throat.

[chaifootsteps]

Got any favorite "kill scenes" from our boy Michael Myers, regardless of Halloween movie?

In no particular order.

1. The ghost sheet. I love when Michael gets these sudden inexplicable bursts of theater kid flair. Did a Halloween costume based on this one.

2. Ditto the pumpkin head.

3. When he kills Judith. I'm fascinated by the look in his eyes afterwards and utterly obsessed with the annoyed, exasperated, normal way she says his name. For that last moment, that last split second, he's just a normal little boy bothering his sister.

4. The Dr. Sartain head stomp. To quote someone on YouTube, "You know Michael really hates you when he'd rather ignore the young teenage girl trapped beside him in favor of crushing your head like a watermelon."

5. The gas station bathroom. It feels weird to watch him kill without his mask on, but in an interesting way, and it’s amazing to see him back in his element after the chained, half blind old man in white prisoner scrubs. Plus, the scene where he reunites with his mask is one of my favorites in all the trilogy, and almost brings tears to my eyes.

6. Bob’s death. That moment when he admires his handiwork. So good.

7. The death of nurse what’s-her-face in Halloween Ends. I’m cheating on this one, I absolutely hated that scene, but it’s shot in a way that really emphasizes how strong and how fucking massive Michael is, and for a second it took me away to a kinder, hornier place.

8. When he snaps Corey’s stupid godawful bitch boy neck like he should have when they first met.

9. The firefighters in Kills.

10. The mob in Kills. Just puts his mask back on like a boss, soaks up every blow they dish out, and then casually slaughters them. God, I fucking love Michael Myers so fucking much.

[tintinwrites]

dollface | Mob Boss!Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader

A/N: I mentioned this a bit ago and you guys loved itttttttttt and I was very inspired to write it and I hope it’s hot like I intended! Best read when listening to 20′s jazz and I’m willing to write a part two if you ask nicely. If you need to know what any of the slang means then please let me know. Tagging @bisexual-space-slut​.

Rating: Hard T/Soft M

Warning: Naughty words. Smoking. Consumption of alcohol obvs. Some might imply too much 1920′s slang. Sexual tension. Sexual references.

Word count: 1,245, apparently!!

Summary: It’s the prohibition era and you’re a flapper who smuggles alcohol into a speakeasy frequented by local mob boss, Poe Dameron. You’re not sure what he means when he says you’re his favorite, but you kind of understand since he’s your favorite too.

GIF credit: I have no idea, but it’s not mine. If anyone knows who made this, please let me know!

Tags: Open if you want a part two!

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

The brick stairs leading down to the speakeasy were wet from the evening rain that had since rolled away, but it didn’t stop young friends and couples from giddily stepping down them in the cover of night.

Jolting music could be heard very faintly outside the thick door that lead in, clearly doing its job of muffling when people would walk in and immediately have the sound of their shoes or their partner drowned out by the loud, bouncing saxophones, pianos, trumpets, and trombones playing on the dimly lit stage.

A haze of smoke clung almost to the ceiling as women made coquettish eyes at the men who were fitting new cigarettes into their holders and lighting it for them.

One woman who must have arrived moments earlier was surrounded by a group of young men, all cheering when she lifted her suspiciously bulky dress to show she had containers of bottles of alcohol strapped to herself and grabbing two bottles each, turning to fill people’s glasses happily.

Poe made his way through the sea of girls with curled bobs and men with their sleeves rolled up to their elbows, smiling at the drunken joy though his eyes scanned the crowd for someone in particular.

His lips tugged down into a slight frown when he didn’t spot among the people chatting or dancing.

Sometimes he thought you’d find a nice fella that made you want to leave this life of sneaking booze into a joint like this, but then he’d recall when he questioned how much you enjoyed this and you told him, “You sap. I’ve never been in love and I never intend to be.”

But maybe you did fall in love unintentionally, he thought as he removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves up, sitting on his usual couch in the corner.

“If it ain’t the cat’s pajamas himself,” that voice and its sultry lilt he’d only ever heard reserved for him brought an easy grin to his face as he looked up at your approaching figure.

“I was wondering where my favorite had gone off to, dollface.” He loved the confused wrinkling of your nose whenever he called you that and the pout when he would change the subject the moment you asked favorite what.

“There were a few bottles of hooch I needed to put behind the bar for Maz.”

“You didn’t save any for me?”

Those full lips and long, gorgeous lashes of his would make any woman or even man worth their salt melt on the spot, and you were right there with them as you slowly slid yourself onto his knee. “I always save a little for you, baby.”

Your hand moved on top of his, guiding it to your leg where you had him slowly push your dress up, fringe tickling your knees then your thighs as his fingers moved underneath.

His darkened eyes stayed on yours as his fingertips brushed over the garter around your upper thigh, letting himself take time on the sensitive skin there as he tugged a small metal flask from its place; his hand trailed up a little as he pulled it all the way out and his knuckles ran over the center of your bloomers.

He slowly dragged his hand away, eyebrow quirking slightly when you leaned into his touch, and you watched him open the flask with your eyes hooded.

“Ladies first,” he murmured, holding it up to you and watching as you wrapped your lips around the mouth of it to take a large swig.

“The rest is yours.” Of course he had no problem downing the rest of the liquor.

An errant curl fell from his slicked back hair when he tilted his head back down and you gently brushed it back up with the rest.

He turned his head to press his nose against your wrist, inhaling the scents of smoke and soap and perfume and you.

“Cigarette,” you huffed softly, plucking a forgotten pack and some matches off the table behind you.

“Please, doll.” He didn’t smoke often, but the place was full of it anyway and there wasn’t much he would deny from you.

Besides, you put that cigarette between your pretty painted lips and struck a match with such grace, lighting it almost effortlessly.

You puffed it a couple times then took it out of your mouth to put it in his, where he took a long drag and gripped it between his index and middle finger to hold it.

The smoke cleared to show you looking at him with the same coquettish eyes those other girls batted at men they found to be keen, though yours were prettier in his honest opinion.

You wiggled further into his lap and his eyes fluttered shut for only a moment at the delightful feeling of you moving between his legs like you were, quickly taking another drag.

“Your hand didn’t have to stop.” You moved his free hand back to your thigh again, pushing it up your dress slowly.

“You think?” This was something he’d wanted from the moment he laid eyes on you, but he’d waited for you to bring up the obvious chemistry that always seemed to pull taut when the two of you interacted.

You leaned in closer, fingers running up and down underneath his suspenders, looking up at him through your lashes.

His eyes darted from yours to your lips, his own inching nearer.

“Boss.” The sound of Snap’s voice had him rearing back in an instant, jostling you in his lap slightly.

“I’m a little preoccupied,” he growled.

The man leaned down to whisper information into his ear and you respectfully cast your eyes to your lap to show you weren’t listening.

His furrowed brow slowly smoothed though not in ease, his eyes now darkened in frustration at the information that one of his men had betrayed him.

“Fuck.” And some of his frustration had to do with the tightness in his pants and the beautiful girl in his lap that he now couldn’t enjoy.

“Go ahead,” you whispered, pushing back that one curl again with a smile as it fell from his movements.

“Understand I don’t wanna do this, baby.” His eyes were pleading; the line of work he was in was no secret to anyone let alone you.

“I understand.” Of course you did and you knew this wasn’t an insult against you, but rather a necessity of his career.

He pressed his head to yours, then leaned over to put out his cigarette and gently slid you from his lap to the spot on the couch next to him.

You handed his suit jacket to him sweetly and watched him shrug it on with a smile on your lips but disappointment in your pretty eyes.

It broke his heart and he would’ve killed the guy who put that look there if it hadn’t been him.

Maybe he could yell at Snap for this a little later.

He nodded for the other man to go get the car ready, turning to you and reaching down to grasp your chin in the commanding way you liked without him being rough enough to hurt you.

“Maybe next time, dollface?” He watched your eyelashes flutter slightly, leaning into his touch like a sweet kitten.

“You know where to find me,” you hummed, moving forward with his hand until he released you and you were left to watch him walk out the door.

[babbushka]

hello zannah!! i hope quarantine is treating you well! i would like to ask for #37 and #45 from the smut prompts list with mr pale!! thank you so much 💘💘

(1.4k, public sex, handjob, come eating, drug use [cocaine])

There was some kinda scuffle or some shit, with the parking. Pale had told you to go on ahead, get yourself a nice cozy booth somewhere in the back, somewhere dark. 

This particular club was one he went to all the time, knew the owners and shit and so why the fuck was there a fuckin’ parking issue? God damned car was more trouble than it was worth, Pale thinks as he shakes his head and adjusts his jacket on his shoulders when he’s finally free to search for you.

He finds you, sitting so pretty in a new dress he bought you. It’s form-fitting and completely covered in sequins, so you look like a million fuckin’ bucks, sipping your drink and waiting for him. He’s pleased to see you’re alone, no assholes trying to move in on you or nothin’.

He’s sweatin’, Pale is. Sweatin’ because of you, the leather jacket in May, or the club, or the coke, he don’t know. He don’t know but he’s rubbin’ his palms against the back pockets of his jeans as his steel-toed boots carry him all the way to you.

You brighten up immediately, when you see him. You’d been puttin’ on you don’t fuck with me face, and he’s proud of that, proud of you for knowing how to hold your own.

“You look dynamite baby, real fuckin’ good. You oughta be under lights like these all the time, you know that? Someone oughta carry ‘em around for you, make you look like a fuckin’ superstar. Is that what you are dollface, a superstar? My good girl?” Pale’s a chatter-box as he slides into the booth with you, immediately pulls you into his lap.

You lean into his embrace, pillow your head on his shoulder, kiss at his neck. You’re wearing a flattering red lipstick, and he knows it’s gotta be pressin’ lil smooch marks all over his throat, but he don’t give a shit. Good, he thinks, good, let them all see just who it is you’re kissing.

“You bet honey, let me prove it to you.” You smile against his skin, around his adam’s apple as it bobs, as he goes all jittery all over.

“Oh yeah, how so?” He lights up a cigarette, the nicotine fighting the coke fighting the presence of you.

He’s raging hard, he realizes, raging hard and he only realizes it once you start wiggling your hips on his cock, your ass so sweet as he grinds his cock up against it.

“Feels like you got a problem, let me take care of it for you.” You say, still kissin’ on him, lovin’ on him. God fuckin’ damn does he love you, loves you too much, he feels like he can’t even fit the half of it in the whole wide world.

“Lemme see your tits, now.” He licks his lips, hands already reachin’ for the little zipper in the dress.

That’s the thing that made him want to buy it for you, you know. The zipper in the front instead of in the back. He could unzip it all the fuckin’ way down, have you sitting naked in his lap if that was somethin’ you’d let him do. You ain’t wearin’ no bra or panties or nothin’, he knows, he knows because he’s the sonofabitch who told you to keep them on the floor when he fucked you hard before bringing you to the club in the first place.

“Is anyone gonna see?” You say, pulling down the zipper slow slow slow.  

“I’ll shoot ‘em between the fuckin’ eyes if they take so much as a look at you sweetheart you know you’re alright with me, you’re safe with me. Let me see them.” He’s jumpy, sweaty, itchy, god he’s on fire for you cock aching heart beating eyes shaking in his skull.

You look over your shoulder anyway, even though you know he’s right, you know. He’s got a little gun he keeps on him, a little thing that could fit into his pocket, and it does, and he has it. He’d use it for you, you know. You love him, smile when he gets his paws all over your tits when you pull the zipper of the dress down enough.

“Give them a kiss, they’re cold.” You grin, as the music of the club thumps in your chest, rattles your bones.

“Oh I’ll warm you up alright.” He squeezes them together and rubs his face into the soft skin.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the smallest little fuckin’ vial ever known to mankind, tips out only a spec or two or twenty of coke right there, right onto the flesh of your breasts, and snorts it up. He licks up any residue, leans back in his chair and feels alive, feels electrified.

Straddling his lap, you raise yourself enough so that you can reach down between his legs and fish for his cock, his dark jeans chafing your inner thighs as you start jerking him off. His head tips back against the booth, and he gives himself over to the feeling of your hand on him, everything going chromacolor as the coke hits.

God he loves you, loves the way you look like this – loves the way you look always. You with your tits out in this seedy corner of this grungy club, jerkin’ him off while guys make mob boss business deals a table or two away, while singers croon on a stage up front. There’s people dancin’ and talkin’ and drinkin’ and fuckin’ and he wants to be one of them, but he can’t do what he wants to do to you, not here.

Your grip loosens for a second, and he peeks an eye open, gives you a million-dollar smile and cups your cheek, feels your pretty skin.

“Did I say you could stop?” He asks, halfway serious.

You roll your eyes, and he pinches your jaw between his thumb and sticks it in your mouth. You suck on it, and your tits jiggle as your arms work to get him off. He’s gonna treat you so fucking good when he gets you home after this fuckin’ concert or whatever the hell he’s here for. He doesn’t even remember anymore, can’t be bothered to remember anything other than you.

“You didn’t say nothin’ honey, you don’t gotta, I’m right here.” You say around his thumb, sucking on it and biting at it lightly as he runs it over your teeth.

“When we get home I’m cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night until my jaw is sore.” He says, and you laugh, because that’s exactly the sort of thing you were hopin’ to hear.

“Do you promise?” You bat your lashes.

“How’s that?” Pale’s brain doesn’t quite catch up because fuck your hands are so good on him and the way you grip his cock is so much better than anyone else he’s ever had including his own goddamned hand, so, “Yeah sweetheart I promise, I fuckin’ swear, I swear to ya if you keep going I’ll keep you in bed all fuckin’ weekend, you ain’t getting out unless I say so, you got that? I’m gonna make you scream so hoarse you won’t even remember your own fuckin’ name, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds real good honey, you gonna come?” You ask but he can’t think of nothin’ other than your tits, he wants to come all over them, he wants – fuck he wants everything.

In the end, he makes a split-second decision and takes his cock from you, pats his lap. You’re good, you know what that means, he’s done it enough times for you to get the hint, and he could weep like the way his dick is drippin’ for you because of it.

“Get your mouth ready sweetheart I’ve been savin’ this shit up for you all fuckin’ day.” He’s grunting as he fucks his fist, hand moving so fast it’s a blur – is that the coke, or is that you? He don’t know which fuckin’ drug is stronger.

He’d bet it was you, the thought of your pussy, that’s got him so fucked up like this – fucked up in the best possible way.

And you do, got him fucked up. You got him fucked up with the way you slip underneath the table of the booth, your head peekin’ out between his thighs as he jerks off. Somewhere under there you zip your dress back up, and he thinks that’s a real fuckin’ shame.

But then he’s comin’, and your tongue is there to catch it, and you close your eyes so’s you don’t get nothin’ in them, and he thinks there ain’t nothing that’s a shame about that.

[darklingichor]

Odd Thomas, Forever Odd & Brother Odd by Dean Koontz *MAJOR SPOILERS* Long post

I've written a little bit about these before. My goal was to listen to all seven of the Odd books plus the two short stories... I couldn't make myself do that.

I use to really love those books. I use to really love Dean Koontz, just recently, the writing has started to annoy me. Since I haven't read any of his new stuff since Saint Odd came out, I can't say it's because the writing has changed. I think I have changed, I'm just not sure in what way. So, I'm going to look at the first three books in the series because 1. I like them the most (sort of). 2. Because I honestly feel like the series should have either ended there or jumped to Saint Odd. 3. Because I'm going to see if by writing about them, I can figure out why reading Koontz in my 20's was like a breath of fresh air, but in my 30's it feels like when the air conditioner is some how making everything too cold, yet not cooling things down at all: uncomfortable and bafflingly frustrating.

Odd Thomas is a 20 year old fry cook in the small california desert town of Pico Mundo. He's seen as sweet but strange to all but a few people in town. He grew up with a mostly absent father, a crazy mother and a loving but wild grandmother, the last has already gone to the great beyond, so what family he has, he has found.

He has a girlfriend named Stormy, they've been together since they were sixteen, his boss at the Grill where he works, Terry, who has an encyclopedic knowledge of Elvis Presley, a 300 lb mystery writer named P. Oswald Boone (Little Ozzie), his landlady who is afraid she'll turn invisible, and the cheif of police.

Odd also sees ghosts, or The Lingering Dead as he calls them. He trys to help them crossover. Sometimes it's as simple as talking to them (though they don't speak back, "the dead don't talk")  oftentimes is complicated and dangerous. Hence why his close relationship with the cheif comes in handy and also why it formed. He has other gifts. The occasional prophetic dream that usually only gives him bits and pieces to work off of, he sees these spectors of calamity that tend to show up right before something bad happens (like an earthquake or a shooting) they are black shadow things that Odd calls Bodochs, and psychic magmatism, where  he can find anyone he's looking for by wondering around with a clear picture in mind.

Everyone in his circle knows about his gift other than his landlady who is slightly and gently insane.

There is one other person in his circle, the ghost of Elvis who Odd had been trying to help crossover since he was in highschool.

The first book takes place over the course of three days.

To avoid a blow by blow, I'll summarize. After an eventful morning during which he helped a murdered twelve year old cross over by catching her killer, Odd goes to his shift a the Grill. There, he sees a creepy little man that reminds him if a mold and fungus, followed by a group of Bodochs. He finishes his shift, goes looking for the guy he's dubed Fungus Man.

He eventually finds his way to Fungus Man's house, breaks in and finds it unnaturally cold and silent. He discovers a room that is pitch black except for a small red light. He soon finds that what has made this room so black and the house so cold and quiet is the mob of Bodochs occupying it. After the Bodochs stream out, Odd is able to see that the room is an office and Fungus Man (aka Bob Roberts) is obsessed with serial and mass murderers, he has a file cabinet full of folders on them and posters of famous murders on his wall. Bob seems to be planning something, but Odd doesn't know what, as his only clue is a planner page in a folder from the killer cabinet. The folder is labeled with Bob's name and the date is two days away.

A series of happenings eventually leads to odd trying to stop a horrifying plan

*SPOILERS STOP READING RIGHT HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE END*

So, Bob is a satanist in cahoots with a couple of other satanists to shoot up and blow up the Pico Mundo mall, among other places. He is able to stop them from completing their goal, but some people do die, including Stormy who was working at an ice cream shop at the mall.

Forever Odd

It's months later and Odd has moved into Stormy's apartment. He wakes up to find the ghost of one of his best friends's stepdad at his bedside. Strangely, Danny, a guy with brittle bone disease, with whom Odd grew up, was not mentioned in the last book.

So, the ghost of Danny's stepdad convinces Odd to go to his and Danny's house. Once there, Odd finds stepdad's body and discovers that Danny has been kidnapped.

What follows is a slightly weird story.

Odd eventually finds Danny and his kidnappers. One is a bug-shit woman Danny was talking with on a phone sex line. To impress her he told her about Odd. She's into her own twisted form of the Vudun religion and decides that Odd can show her the lingering dead and wants him become one of her crew. She kidnapped Danny to lure him out.

Danny is rescued, bad guys defeated, and Odd decides he needs to get out of Pico Mundo for a while.

Brother Odd

Odd has spent the last several months at the St. Bartholomew's Abbey, in the California Mountains, as a lay visitor among the monks and nuns. The Abbey is also home to a a community of disabled children. Odd becomes  close with four people in particular The Mother superior, The Priest at the head of the monks, Brother Knuckles, an ex mob guy turned monk, and Brother John, a wealthy guy turned monk. Only the first three know of his gift.

Waiting up to see a snow storm break, Odd finds Brother Timothy unconscious or dead on the grounds. He is then clubbed on the back of the head and knocked out. A search for Brother Tim leads to a strange mix of science and the spiritual that I for one found really cool.

** SECOND SPOILER**

Elvis crosses over in this one and Odd contemplates becoming a monk. Two reasons I think that this should have been the last one. Another reason is that he comes very very close to connecting with Stormy though a conduit to the otherside. Third, this is the last book where Odd is truly Odd.

See, Odd hates guns and will only use one as a last resort. In the first, Odd takes out most of the bad guys with a baseball bat, in the second, bug-shit lady was killed by a cougar, the bad guy in this one was killed by someone else.

Although his ability to see and help the lingering dead is not the main focus of the second or the third, it's still something he does. There is character progression from the first to the third. When we meet Odd he is trying to carve out a life dispite his traumatic childhood and while trying to do right with the gifts he has. After he loses Stormy, the second commitment becomes more intense, because of his conviction that the only way he will meet Stormy on the other side is to live his life in the best way he can, and that means using his gifts to help people. He's sadder, slightly less heedful of danger, but still fully committed to flighting the good flight, in his unconventional way.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, in the fourth through the seventh, the train is derailed, possessed, and also on fire.

Not only does his primary gift take a back seat, but the fight he is flighting isn't between the forces of good and evil, or even between justice and injustice, it's a culture war.

And the side of the war that Odd is on is peopled with climate change deniers, dooms day prepers, anti-government people who supply other "good guys" with guns,  other anti-personnal gear, tech that circumvents federal guidelines. All the "bad guys" are anyone with any sort of power judges, lawyers, cops, corporations, politicians. Their victims are the hard working Americans, the waitresses, the truck drivers... Strike that. The victims are the Christian hardworking Americans who evedently are being "persecuted in their own country" (this might be a different rant for a different blog but I maintain that there is a big difference between Persecution and Denial of Entitlement. Persecution is being in danger of being harassed, hurt, killed or imprisoned for your beliefs, ethnicity or culture. And when that happens justice is less likely to happen for the person or people targeted. Denial of Entitlement is when a person, or people, cry injustice because they either can't dress up their persecution of others in their beliefs, or can't force those beliefs on others, through law, or through being amazingly obnoxious).

Not only are anyone in power corupt, they are satanists, not are they satanists, they are the same sect of satanists who attacked Pico Mundo, not only are they the same satanists that attacked Pico Mundo, they have an actual connection to Satan. Like they can call up demons and monsters.... Yet for some reason they still use bombs, guns and weponized diseases to wreak havoc.

Now, if Koontz wanted to showcase some characterization of how to fight against a corupt system, that's cool, I mean I'm all for calling out people in power. But this vears into government lizard people territory, and if that was the type of book he wanted to write then that's cool too,but he essentially highjacked Odd's story to do it.

I have a hard time believing that when Odd picked up the ghost of Frank Sinatra at the end of Brother, and walked off into the sunset, that the original intent was to end up in the middle of a plot to plant nukes around the country and then, accompanied by pregnant girl who is some how The Virgin Mary's mother, to a house where time travel is possible and mutant pigs fade in from a post apocalyptic future and want to eat people, where they pick up a sort of dead, sort of immortal child, who is neither of those any more. Only to then to leave them to go on a road trip with an old lady, who some how has connections to the metaphysical, and a microchip planted in her ass that makes it to where she doesn't have to sleep, to rescue kids kidnapped by the powerful satanists to be used as human sacrifice. Along the way, they meet up with some fighters in this coming war, who while they do not wear tin foil hats, they have the cheerfully bloodthirsty air of cult members waiting for the end times. (Side note about the roadtrip book: Deeply Odd is the most boring, yet weird book I have read since Breaking Dawn. Say what you will about the crazy pigs and time travel in Odd Apocalypse, it's at least interesting).

And then to end up back in Pico Mundo to fight said satanists. The in increasingly nonsensical plots really just there to deliver commentary on how the world has gone to shit and everyone is to focused on the material.

Again, remember that Odd is pretty apolitical. He's never voted, owns only the clothes on his back, prefers Shakespeare and old movies to tv, which I figure also includes the news. How does this not equal out to a kid being a patsy for this group, which essentially takes over the narritive. I mean, yeah, he's still doing his thing, but he has many of his moves ditcatated by this group. This includes carrying a gun, all the time.

Again, Odd hates guns. Granted, by the last book, he has spent three books killing people with guns while talking about how much he hates killing people with guns, but up till the last two books, his hatered of guns is seen as a virtue, and then suddenly, he's an idiot if he doesn't arm himself to take a piss.

This makes very little sense to me. Odd is a simple guy, he wants to live his life as long as he has to, do right by the dead and make his way back to Stormy, all the while perfecting his pancake recipe. How the fuck did we get from this to "Everything is shit, there are three type of people, those in power who are working for the devil, those on the side of the angels and the idiots who don't see what's going on. And dispite all the supernatural stuff, we still need to busta cap in someone's ass.

I know that Koontz is Catholic, and I speculate that he had a renewal of his faith somewhere, but also somewhere along the line he took a turn into conservative libertarian territory if that is a thing that can exsist.

I feel like originally, the idea was to have Saint Odd follow Brother Odd, at least in some incarnation. It makes sense, the satanist sect want to come back and finish what was started, and take out the town and Odd, who cocked it up to begin with. In the first book Odd describes Roberts and his cohorts as playing satanists but just using it as a delivery system for their sick want to kill people and be famous for it. It follows that others who are also playing at being satanists would come back to town to get revenge for their fallen brethren. This also trucks with Forever Odd where the bug-shit lady was playing at being a Vudun, and with Brother Odd where people played at being faithful.

This is how ai think it should have gone:

Odd goes from the Abbey, where he is shown, yet again, that evil is a human driven force, that those who wallow in pride, in want of adoration and perfection can be the down fall of themselves and others, back to his home town to defeate these sad delusional people once and for all.

Or

Odd goes home for Christmas at the end of Brother, decides he wants to take vows, and goes about the process of becoming a man of the cloth. Maybe he goes back to St. Bart's, and he figures out a way to help the lingering dead from there, or, after he is confirmed in whatever capacity, he goes back to Pico Mundo and works along side Stormy's priest uncle. He sort of Father Dowlings it until he passes.

Instead, suddenly the structured feel of all of the supernatural things, which (implied by the third book) are based in science and the laws and rules of the universe that God laid down, turns into... Magic?

Doesn't matter how or why, what matters is there is a war! And the little fry cook shall lead them!

Seriously. Five years of Christian School has me seeing the turn that Odd's story takes, a couple of ways.

First it is either an overworked Christ story, where Odd is swept up in a war between the oppressed and the opressers, even though his life and mission is mostly one of mercy. In the end being a sacrifice that saves millions (by preventing the spread out f a weponized strain of rabies) but his sacrifice will only be remembered by a handful of people at first. The difference is of course that Odd buys into the culture war even though it make no sense.

Or, it's a Saint's story. Struggle, strife and miracles. See, it use to be that to be canonized, you had to have three miracles. His miracles? Well, first, his helping of the dead to cross over could be one, the preventing of whatever demon the satanists summoned in Deeply Odd, could be another, and finally, somehow managing to send Little Ozzie the manuscript for Saint Odd after Odd himself had already died, could be the last.

Either way, books four, five, and six are completely unnecessary.

So why does knootz's writing annoy me? It's self righteous and condicending. Poking fun a people who watch tv, enjoy unsophisticated things, bemoaning those who don't see just how stupid it is to buy into media, and how people are just marching their own way to misery because they just don't Get It.

It's the same time of people who look down on adults who do kid stuff sometimes "Why would you read John Green when you can read Dickens? Why would you watch Inside Out when you can watch Citizen Cane?"

Why would you eat coco puffs? Adults don't do that!"

I'm sorry, have I outgrown fun? A book is a book, a movie is a movie, breakfast cereal is breakfast cereal and you should be able to watch anything you want on tv without being shamed by a book that has an exploding cow in it.

[peachybeatles]

ultimate bottom!John master post ;)

Every fic listed is mclennon, includes sexual content and is on ao3. Do feel free to add onto the list if I’ve missed anything! 

Be My Baby - crybabycry

“Tell me, Johnny,” Paul murmured, teasing his almost-auburn hair between his fingers, “were you a good boy today?”

John’s breath quickened, blush spreading as he readjusted himself on Paul’s lap. “No, Paul, I was not a good boy today.”

These Nights - Unchained_Daisychain

Music journalist John Lennon is tasked with writing an article on newfound pop artist Paul McCartney. A night of fame, music, and passion soon surround John before he knows it. By the end of it all, he’s not so sure he can manage to give up this star and these nights.

Father’s Day - ImagineBeatles

John and Paul have a different way of celebrating Father’s day.

Understanding - ImagineBeatles

John wants to know what it’s like to be fucked roughly after he had seen how much Paul had enjoyed it, when he had done it to him. Paul is more than happy to do it.

The First Scene - DemonDean10

John is an omega and has kept this secret from all his friends for years. Until one day while on their first visit to the U.S. he discovers he forgot his heat suppressants. There is an Alpha that could come to his rescue, but what will happen after the two wake up and realize what they've done.

Higher Education - smothermeinrelish

Starting anew in Edinburgh Scotland, John is hired as a conservationist at the University where he will be working along side English Literature Professor Dr. Paul McCartney. John is instantly attracted to his new supervisor and mentor, but the feelings aren't mutual? Are they? Set in modern AU, the teacher/ student relationship could be more than just a temporary fling.

You Teaser, You Pleaser - Unchained_Daisychain

John and Paul finally find time to put their new handcuffs to use.

John shrugged, but the smirk on his lips belied his nonchalance. He glanced at the handcuffs Paul held between their bodies. “Seize the moment, Macca,” he said, low, tracing a single finger along the ridges of one open cuff. “Or any accessible poles throughout the day. They always leave that part out.”

Tease Me - nipsynips

His bandmates had always called him the ‘kinky’ one, but they had always assumed it was him doing the tying and the holding down and the commanding. True enough, that was often the case, especially with birds, but it wasn’t his preference. In fact, contrary to what most people thought, John relished the chance to relinquish control every once in a while.

Patience is a Virtue - Peachy_Beatles

John is trying his best to song write despite his overactive imagination. Luckily, Paul is willing to reward him for his efforts.

Summer Rose - chanderson

John and Paul rekindle their relationship late summer 1980. John's feeling lost, and Paul's missing him in more ways than one.

Cutting Strings - Peachy_Beatles

Early 1969: With John’s increasing emotional unavailability, Paul is left clinging on to whatever he can get from him- no matter how unfulfilling.

I Blame Tumblr - DemonDean10

I would just like to apologize to the world and myself for doing this. Based off this Tumblr post by @johnsdoublechin: @ the ppl who say John isnt a bottom at my last post well I got MY SOURCES. George, Ringo, Paul, Brian, Cynthia, and Yoko have all topped him thanks for listening And so...this was born. Basically John bottoms for everyone. Everyone tops him. I did this instead of my actual fics.

Ten Minutes - ImagineBeatles, ChutJeDors

Paul had thought that his friends only wanted the best for him, with giving him a gift card to a brothel and all. Now, having ended up in a room with a stunningly handsome male whore, he needs to reconsider those ideas about his friends, and his beliefs in life altogether. It’s just for ten minutes, though… Definitely a once in a lifetime thing, and all that. Totally! Right? Right??

What Feels Right/ This Loving Game - ImagineBeatles

Paul and Julia have been going out for a while and now they’ve decided to move in together. What Paul hadn’t expected when he’d agreed was that he’d fall in love with her troublesome teenage son, John

like a river flows, surely to the sea - toppermostofthepoppermost

John is smiling around his cigarette, head thrown back, eyes fixed on the cloudy sky, and it takes Paul all of his poor will to mutter, “You shouldn’t flirt with your teachers, you know?” “In my defense, Mr. McCartney,” John quips, shifting his gaze to Paul, “you make it very hard not to.” Or: Modern-day AU where Paul spends his days teaching everything Shakespeare, getting angry at modern electronic devices, raising a five-year-old girl who's 50% puppy eyes and 50% sassy comebacks and trying not to fall in love with John Lennon, his university student.

The Consequences of Getting What You Want - deux_lunes

Why John Lennon really beat Bob Wooler up at Paul’s birthday party.

Queer - deux_lunes

Paul gives John what he desires

Discipline - deux_lunes

John has been an utter brat and Paul decides that he is in desperate need of discipline.

Skype sex.  - mickeymouse (Sgtmacca0)

day 8. john skypes paul in the middle of the night.

In the Back Seat of My Car - ImagineBeatles

Modern AU. After having met at Stuart's birthday party, John and Paul get down and dirty in the back of John's car.

It won’t be long - orphan_account

After some interesting scents were being left around everywhere the Beatles went, even without any women around, it became obvious that someone in the band is an omega and never told anyone. But no one seems to care, or even notice, but Paul. The only other alpha in the band, with John of course. And he sniffs out (literally and figuratively) who it is alone in the hotel.

James - JP (jpgr1963)

Paul helps John cope with stress while on tour in 1964.

Magical Mystery Tour Love - DemonDean10

Paul gets drunk one night during MMT filming and confesses his love for John. John had been in love for yrs and is elated. but when Paul wakes up he remembers very little of the night before, will he tell John or try to make the relationship work, even with all the moral conflicts it brings up?

Day 30: Who’s Your Daddy, Johnny Boy? - ImagineBeatles

John's been a naughty boy who needs his Daddy to punish him and make him learn his lesson. Or at least, that's what Paul thinks. Not that John isn't more than happy to indulge his lover.

Day 22: Over The Desk - ImagineBeatles

1968. John keeps bothering Paul while he's busy doing management stuff, which is highly irritating for the younger Beatle, especially seeing as John makes it abundantly clear he isn't going to leave until he gets what he came for. In the end, John gets a little more than he bargained for.

Day 18: Lazy Morning Sex - ImagineBeatles

John and Paul spend the morning in bed together.

Day 6: Clothed Getting-Off - ImagineBeatles

John had seen Paul watching him, eyes hot and determined, so he was not at all surprised when he was dragged into an alleyway and pushed up against a brick wall to have his lips positively snogged off.

 I Want You - sockittoem

“In which John gets really horny after doing coke, and needs Paul to fuck it out of him.”

The Night Before - andthemoondogs

[ Anon McLennon prompt: "The Night Before" ] John and Paul have a night of drunken sex, after which, John panics and gives Paul the cold shoulder until Paul finally confronts him about it.

Day 7: Naked/Dressed - ImagineBeatles

1964. On the set of A Hard Day's Night, John and Paul cannot get one particular scene right in which Paul has to drag John away from a couple of girl as they try to find Paul's grandfather on the train, so they sneak off to practise the scene together. Soon, however, the boys have other things on their minds than rehearsing a scene.

Kiss Me - orphan_account

Mimi is gone for a trip, and when John and Paul meet at John's house for practice, things don't go quite as planned.

masturbation. - mickeymouse(Sgt macca0)

day 4. paul masturbates at the thought of john.

bottoms up. - ffomixam

“Can we get some mclennon with a possessive, dominant paul and compliant john? (technically doesn’t have to be smut)”

breathe desperation. - ffomixam

 McLennon smut, something along the lines of a first time, unexpected, adrenaline fueled, thoughtless, desperate handsy-ness and making out backstage after a show with John as the more submissive and needy one?

love me harder. - ffomixam 

Could you write a fic about Paul fucking John in public while in Hamburg, being really rough and dominant and teasing John that someone’s going to hear them and see John taking it up the arse, and John just devolves into a cummy fucked-out mess.

Of Hot Chocolate and Rainy Nights - paulmcfartney

yall already know what's goin on ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I feel like I’m the worst, so I act like im the best - KiwiPillow

John, a young ravishing man, who is absolutely uninterested in anything but himself really, gets pursued by his roommate to try a dating website! What could go wrong? Well, maybe your "match" could turn out to be a bastard stalker mobster boss with a serious daddy kink, who wants to work on your attitude. Shocked and upset. In the mob bosses defence, John is annoying as hell in this.

[optimistic-violinist]

Lock and Key

Behold, my first JSE fic! Inspired by this post.

Thank you to all those involved: @happysingingturtles, @rogue-of-broken-time, @dapperjack-protection-blog, @kittican, @nightfuryobsessed, @a-septic-mind, and @nofacednerd ((I hope you don’t mind me tagging y’all, please let me know if you do and I’ll fix it)).

Jameson had a side that few people saw. He kept it under lock and key for good reason, but every now and then, there came a reason to let it out.

Jamie knew he probably shouldn’t have followed the others on this particular mission, but he was curious! And sick of being left behind with Schneep whenever anything was deemed “too dangerous.” Besides, he had a bad feeling about this and it turned out his bad feeling was right.

Marvin was passed out cold, floating ominously in the air, black and yellow electricity crawling over him; whatever counter spell had been used against him couldn’t have been a kind one. Jackieboy was slumped against the wall of the warehouse, the red of his suit turning an even darker red at an alarming rate. He was trying to apply pressure to it, but he needed help. And then Chase. Why had Chase come?! The vlogger had been shot in the knee and if he had to guess, he would say his arm was broken too. He was trying to help Jackie as much as he could, but his own wounds were making it difficult.

Jamie finally managed to pull his gaze away to turn and look at the person that had caused all of this.

“You dumb mute, whatcha gonna do?” the thug asked, flanked by three other cronies. “I just took down the city’s hero, greatest magician, and their deadbeat brother. What are you gonna do?”

Jamie figured it wasn’t worth explaining the irony to the man that “dumb” and “mute�� could mean the same things. After all, he was just a high level crime boss who had made the poor decision to mess with his family. So Jamie just smiled, held his hand out, and, in a puff of smoke, a rapier appeared.

The man took a startled step back. “What?”

“Have at thee!”

Jameson lunged across the floor, but the man managed to move out of the way. “Not for long!” Jamie thought, and continued his attack. The other thugs were just as surprised by the unexpected turn of events, but finally managed to get their wits together long enough for two of them to pull knives while the other fumbled to reload his gun. They danced around the empty warehouse, Jamie parrying each blow they tried to strike while managing to get in a few of his own. Three against one was hardly fair, but he made it work. After a deft dodge, he got in under one of their guards and ran the crony through.

“One down.”

At this point, the guard he had been keeping an eye on, the one reloading his gun, seemed to finally have got it.

“And that’s enough of that,” Jamie decided. He ducked, dodging the knife that went above his head, and then rolled out from in between the boss and thug, towards the third gang member. As he came up, the rapier in his hand disappeared and was replaced with a baseball bat. He smiled at the wide eyed gunman.

“Toodles.” A solid THWACK knocked the man out cold. He’d be fine. Probably.

JJ turned back to the others who were staring at him in mute horror. The mob boss’s face contorted in anger and he shoved his lackey forward. “Don’t just stand there! Get him!”

JJ smiled. “If you insist.” While rapiers held a certain refined quality, baseball bats had a finesse of their own. “Unwieldy at times though,” he thought as he swung and missed, throwing him off balance, and giving the man an opportunity to strike. The knife just grazed his arm thankfully, but still.

“Now, now. Can’t have that.” Another poof of smoke and this time the bat was replaced with a dragon-headed cane.

“What the hell?” the cronie muttered, looking equally as confused and wary as his boss. Jamie held up a finger and began to twist the dragon head. They all watched him until it popped off, revealing a sword. JJ grinned, holding the dragon head hilt in one hand and the cane in the other and attacked again.

“Now he’s got both!” the thug screeched, trying to retreat. JJ let him, hitting him on the butt firmly with the cane as he ran out of the warehouse, then turn towards the boss.

“Fine! I’ll deal with you myself.” He went to draw his own gun, but a quick rap of the cane on his knuckles made him drop it, and with a nudge from the sword, it went skittering across the floor. JJ let go of the sword and cane and they disappeared as before.

“Oh now what?” the boss moaned. “What is it this time, a bazooka? Or will you fight like a man?” he said, putting his fists up. Jamie pretended to consider this.

“A good show of fake bravado. I mean, why not?” Seeming to decide, he nodded, held up his fists, then made a show of brushing and blowing them off, when, as expected, there was a puff of smoke, and he was now wearing brass knuckles. The mob boss groaned while Jamie just grinned and started in with a mean jab.

“I forgot how much fun fisticuffs are.”  It was almost laughable how bad this guy was. Sure, against another untrained fellow he would be pretty good, but against someone like Jameson who actually knew how to box? No chance.

He knocked the guy in the jaw with a mean left hook and followed up with a solid uppercut that sent the man sailing. He landed with a hard thud on the ground and groaned. JJ walked over, watching him struggle to get up, and grabbed him by the collar and just let him dangle. The man struggled a bit, but his eyes were still rolling in his head from those last two punches. JJ smirked, and pulled his fist back, winding it up, before socking the guy in the stomach and letting him drop.

He knelt down next to him and took satisfactory note of the blood stain that was now spreading over the man’s abdomen. JJ blew off his knuckles and the poison ring that now protruded from the brass.

“Don’t you or your friends ever mess with my family again.”

Jameson stood and took a deep breath. Time to put all that under lock and key again. The brass knuckles vanished and he quickly jogged over to where Chase and Jackie were waiting.

“Jamie?” Chase asked incredulously. “What was that? Are you alright? I ju- agh!”

“Easy there, easy.”

“I called Schneeplestein,” Chase groaned. “You were… good distraction. How’d you… where’d you…”

“It doesn’t matter now. What matters is you three. Jackie? You with us?”

“Mmmm, hey Jay.” JJ quickly applied his own hands to the wound. “I’ll be fine. Had worse.”

“It’ll all be okay,” Jamie reassured them and tried to believe it himself.

Later that night, all of them were back home. Chase sat on the sofa, flipping through channels, one arm now in a sling and his leg in a cast after a successful surgery. Recovery wouldn’t be quick, but it would happen.

Jackie was asleep in Schneep’s lab with the doctor keeping a close eye on him. He had lost a lot of blood, but they got to him in time and Henrick assured them that he too would make a full recovery.

Marvin on the other hand was currently bobbing against the ceiling like a lost balloon. Jameson sat at the kitchen table, flipping through one of the magician’s spell books, trying to find a solution.

“Can’t you just do your magic thing?” Chase asked, leaning back, craning to see them.

“My magic thing?”

“Yeah, like you did today, just making things appear.” JJ smirked.

“Unfortunately I don’t think it would work in this case. That’s about the only magic I can do.”

Chase relaxed, looking back to the TV. “Fair enough. You have got to teach me how to swordfight sometime though.”

Jamie chuckled and went back to searching. Would verbal spells even work if he couldn’t speak? Who knew.

“This one looks promising.” He held up a hand and began to mentally chant the incantation, and nearly toppled his chair in surprise as Marvin came crashing down on the kitchen table. Chase jumped and Schneep burst out of the lab to see what was going on. Marvin groaned and sat up, barely managing to not fall off the table. Jamie couldn’t help it; he started to laugh and couldn’t seem to stop.

“What happened?” Marvin muttered, finding his way into a chair.

Jamie was in no position to answer, so Chase and the doctor filled him in. JJ finally stopped laughing just in time to hear Chase say,

“You should’ve seen Jamie though! Who knew he had so much fight in him! You might have a new magic apprentice there Marv.”

JJ coughed awkwardly and brushed himself off. “Twas nothing really. I can just get… a bit heated in the moment. See red, go off my rocker, that sort of thing.”

“He hit a guy with a baseball bat Marv,” Chase whispered, sounding far too excited.

“Where’d he get the baseball bat from?”

“Made it appear! Out of thin air!”

Marvin gave him an appraising, if dubious look. “Really?”

Sighing, knowing there was no way he would hear the end of it, JJ held out his hand and his baseball bat appeared. Marvin’s eyes grew wide.

“No way. You didn’t even say a spell or anything!”

JJ shrugged and the bat disappeared. “I had to mentally chant the incantation that fixed you, but it seemed to work just fine.”

“That is fascinating. I’m going to have to look more into this. We should practice together sometime! We sh-“

“Vhat you should do is go to bed!” Henrick interrupted. “It has been a long night and you were under a bad curse for who knows how long. Marvin, you sleep in lab. I need to check you over still. Come, come.”

Reluctantly, Marvin got to his feet and stumbled behind the doctor into his lab. JJ joined Chase on the sofa.

“You should go to bed too,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

“What do you think I’m doing my fine fellow?” He yawned and settled his head on his brother’s shoulder. “Good night Chase.”

“Heh. Night bro. Thanks for saving us today.”

But he was already asleep.

[sweetcreatnre]

I have soo missed rping and have decided to get back into it. I figured I’d go ahead and make a list of the things/people I’m wanting to play and see if anyone would be interested.

Faces I’d love to play (Bolded for who I’d also like to play against):

Ben Robson

Charlie Heaton

Paul Wesley

Bob Morley

Joe Keery

Finn Cole

Lennon Stella

Julia Garner

Alex Anderson

Timothee Chalamet

Kiernan Shipka

Harry Styles

Tyler Posey

Joe Dempsie

Madelaine Petsch

Jack O’Connell

Kaya Scodelario

Dacre Montgomery

Honestly I could go on and there are tons of other people I could add so if you don’t see someone you like we can definitely figure it out. I’m not super particular on who I play against. 

Plots I would like:

I’m open to most any plot but these are just a few that I’ve been really wanting.

THISSS!! (i’d be down to play either muse in this plot)

Priest + younger guy (i’d prefer to play the younger guy)

This plot.. (either muse would work for me)

All I want is the sons of two rival mob bosses from that fall for each other set in the 40′s or 50′s and they have to keep it hella under wraps and there’s lots of sneaking around and and pretending to hate each other whenever they come into contact in public. So lots of angst and fluff and lots of forbidden sex tbh.

Would love to play a female muse in this plot.

Literally anything age gap

And maybe something like this plot! (I’d like to play the girl but would be down to play the guy too.)

[thebatmarino]

The DCEU’s next Batman should be played by Dick Grayson

Batman and Robin.  Words that have gone together like Peanut Butter and Jelly for around 80 years.  Everybody in the world knows that Batman’s younger sidekick is Robin. Many know that Robin is Dick Grayson, fewer know that Dick grew up to become Nightwing, and even fewer still that he has spent time as Batman. With the recent activity in DC film, I want to talk about my favorite superhero, what makes him great, and most importantly, why I believe Dick Grayson is the answer to the DCEU’s Bat situation. To start, we’re going to rewind to 1940, when Robin was introduced to the world in Detective Comics #38.

Batman was created in 1939.  A grim figure of the night, Batman spoke very little, a trait that has held through to this day. At the time however, legend has it that Bill Finger and Bob Kane were tired of drawing thought bubbles for him, so they needed to give him someone to talk to.  But who? Well, Batman was a Sherlock Holmesian figure, it was Detective Comics after all, so they needed to give him a Watson.  A character who’s intelligent, capable, and a proxy for the readership so they can join Batman on his adventures. The readership at the time (target readership, we know girls love and read comics too, but this was 1940) was 12 year old boys, and who might they look up to? Robin Hood starring Errol Flynn came out in 1938, he seems pretty cool. And a Robin keeps up the motif of flying animal that Batman started.  And there you have it, Robin the Boy Wonder was born.

The creation of Robin is also the birth of the Teenage Sidekick. Since then, every teen sidekick from Bucky to Kid Flash owes a debt to the creation of Robin.  As more and more sidekick characters populated the comic scene, something happened at DC Comics in particular that is one of my favorite things about the brand: the idea of Legacy Characters.

Consider the Justice League for a moment. Let’s look at the big 6: Wonder Woman, Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Flash, and Aquaman.  These characters are the Greek Gods reborn.  They are iconic, they are mythological.  Each one of them proudly displays a symbol that they adhere to.  “I believe in love and equality”, “There is hope for everyone”, “I will drag myself through Hell for justice”, “by force of will, I will overcome all fear to save the world”, “I will always make time to help people”, “I will be the great uniter of disparate people”, or whatever you interpret the thesis of these characters to be. They are perfect embodiments.  The problem with perfection is that real people can’t attain that.  We can try.  We can stumble and fall. And that is exactly what the Legacy Characters attempt to be. These characters are absolute representations in ways that humans are generally not. They are aspirational.  That’s why there’s merchandise out the wazzu (do people still say that?), so you can see a person on the street with that Green Lantern symbol and know that person wants to overcome fear.

Dick Grayson was the first.  For many years Dick was happily Robin, going on strange adventures with Batman and friends, whupping ass in green short pants. He even formed a team of sidekicks, known as the Teen Titans along with Wonder Girl, Kid Flash, Aqualad, and Speedy.  All teenagers struggling to live up to their “parents”.  These perfect people who’s symbols they have taken as their own and sworn to uphold.  Then something interesting happened.  In 1984, in Tales of the Teen Titans #44, Dick Grayson debuted his Nightwing persona.

Dick Grayson had been growing up.  Which is a thing yet again, never done in comics before.  For some time now, a rift had been growing between the Dark Knight and his Squire. Dick had gone off to college, formed his own super-team, and was going through the typical growing pains of a young person trying to step out on their own. No longer feeling the identity of his 12 year old fancies were fitting, he picked an adult, darker name that still reflected and honored where where he came from (the origins of this name are toyed with and retconned, but the connections between Bats and Wings of the Night cannot be denied).

As Nightwing, Dick Grayson was his own man, ran his life and heroics how he saw fit, and most importantly, didn’t answer to Batman.  Until Knightfall happened.  In the events of this story, Bane broke Bruce’s spine, resulting in Bruce choosing a man named Jean-Paul Valley as the new Batman.  Jean-Paul went nutso and nearly killed Bane and begun a reign of hyper-vigilante terror in Gotham, so Bruce badassed his way back to walking because comic books, and whupped his ass.  Before restoring himself as the one true Batman, Bruce asked the one man qualified in all the world to take up the mantle to do so: Dick Grayson.  Yet again, we have a comic book first: a legacy character fulfilling their legacy. This didn’t last long however, Bruce did what he had to do, and Dick dutifully (and reluctantly) filled in as long as required.

Nightwing then got a brilliant solo series by Chuck Dixon and Scott McDaniel, which to this day is probably the most influential run on the character. Before we move on in his publication history though, I think it’s important to understand WHO Dick is, and WHY he is.  After all, what makes this 12 year old boy so special that he becomes Batman’s right hand man in a war on crime?

Richard John Grayson, aka Dick, was born to John and Mary Grayson of the legendary Flying Graysons of Haly’s Circus.  The reason they were legendary was because they flew without the safety of a net.  Dick grew up on the trapeze with no net.  No fear, no cares in the world, except being a child star performer. After a mob boss tries to unsuccessfully extort money from the circus, they murder the Graysons by tampering with the trapeze before Dick’s very eyes. The young orphan was observed by another orphan in the crowd, Bruce Wayne, who took him in.  It wasn’t really successfully explained why a 12 year old seemed okay to take out fighting crime until the two part episode of Batman: The Animated Series, Robin’s Reckoning. Like a young Bruce, Dick was consumed with his parents’ murder.  Each night, unfulfilled by the guardianship of an absentee Bruce Wayne, Dick would sneak out and try to track down leads on his parents’ killer.  Eventually he got in over his head and Batman bailed him out and returned him to the Batcave. This boy knew no fear.  He would return to the streets night after night.  He would get himself killed.  Unless he was trained how to not die by a certain… bat themed expert at not-getting-killed-by-criminal-scum.  Bruce revealed his identity to Dick, which also explained why he was busy so much of the time, and in the Batcave, Dick swore an oath by candlelight to uphold justice and everything Batman stood for. The training was gruelling. Probably inhumane. But eventually Dick was allowed to accompany Batman on the streets as his sidekick.

Dick Grayson was saved by Bruce Wayne. Where Bruce was in uncharted territory sorting his rage, vengeance, and pain, Dick Grayson had a guide.  A Mentor.  Someone who had been exactly where he was, and could keep him from being consumed by darkness.  And that’s reflected in their uniforms.  The bright boy and the dark man. Adding to that, the Wayne’s murderer got away. There will be no vengeance or justice for Batman, just a gaping wound.  Dick got justice for his parents. He saw that what they did worked, and that he could keep doing it for other people.  Whereas Batman is driven by a desire to hurt those who hurt others, Dick is here to help.  That’s something Tom King wrote into his character over and over during his run, the words “how can I help”.  And if you look at the jobs he’s held down since striking out on his own: Police Officer, Guidance Counselor, Personal trainer, even bartending at a cop bar where he could give these guys relief (as well as pick up some leads) are all acts of service towards others.  Which when the time came, made him a very different Batman.

The time eventually came.  Bruce Wayne was “dead” (as dead as anyone is in comics), and Gotham City was in chaos. Initially Bruce left instructions for Dick not to become Batman. Because Nightwing was strong enough.  He was his own man and Bruce believed in what he was doing.  However, Gotham needs Batman, the symbol.  And for the first time truly, not just putting on the cape and cowl, but deep in his bones, Dick Grayson became Batman. Fulfilling the legacy.  He is not Bruce Wayne, just like we cannot be Bruce Wayne, but he can do his best to live up to what the symbol of The Batman means to him, just like us.  Which brings me to where Dick Grayson is the future of the cinematic Batman franchise.

Over the last few years, we are experiencing a massive shift in how our male heroes are percieved.  In the 80s which gave birth to Dark Knight Returns, a huge influence on the DCEU Batman, we saw a trend of hypermasculinity in our heroes.  They were JACKED, strong, fearless, .50 Cal from the hip, Macho Men, stoic badasses that were too busy punching out teeth and blowing shit up to feel sissy-ass feelings.  And that is where Batman has lived for years in comic continuity. He doesn’t say I love you, he doesn’t hug, he doesn’t feel feelings, he’s a rage-powered badass dressed all in black that kicks in criminals’ kneecaps because he probably kind of likes it.  At the end of the day, you read enough of these comics and question whether or not Batman is actually a good man. Is he doing this to save the day, or inflict pain? Probably some of both.

As we survey the current landscape of masculinity, of heroism, of feminism, it’s important to question our heroes. It’s important to question, is this the ideal that we want people to strive for? In Batman V. Superman: Dawn of Justice, we saw that Frank Miller Dark Knight Returns in all his glory.  In my opinion, Ben Affleck’s portrayal of Batman was my favorite thing about that film. He was deliciously brutal, he was stubborn in his righteousness, he was extreme in his methodology, he was....murdering people? He was losing himself.  He was so caught up in his need for violence, his need for war that he attempted to murder superman with a freaking spear. I suspect Justice League was intended to have a more redemptive arc for the demon he had become, but in any case, he has still become a monster.  He has dwelled in hell so long that he has become the very type of devil he sought to destroy.

The best thing for Bruce Wayne would be to leave this life behind somehow. Pass the cowl on to the man who he trained for this very purpose. A hero that exemplifies modern healthy masculinity.  Who can say “I love you”, who wants to seek justice more than vengeance, who can maintain healthy friendships and relationships, who believes in kindness, friendship, and laughter.  I think it is time for Dick Grayson to take his place in cinematic history as Batman.

That doesn’t even touch upon the fact that the DCEU Batman is around 45 years old.  While incredible and imaginative, they’ve set him at a natural age to retire from jumping off rooftops and withstanding repeated head trauma. If you look at Batman as a pro athlete, you simply do not see them at his age and doing tremendously well.  Which when your sport is dodging gunfire and acting as bait for super aliens so other super aliens can clobber them, is not great.  I think DC Entertainment is looking for ways to have a more youthful Batman, and I believe Dick Grayson is part of that natural path.

And that doesn’t mean we won’t have Bruce Wayne stories.  As the news has just dropped, Matt Reeves is telling his own young Bruce tales.  But as far as the Batman that stands shoulder to shoulder with Wonder Woman, and Superman?  Here we have a young man in Dick Grayson coming into his own as a hero on the world’s stage, just like Diana and Clark.  A young man with the strategic mind of Batman, the physical training, the gadgets, resources, but without the blinding rage, pain, and cynicism.  A superhero that looks at the world and wants to genuinely help people. Not out of a deep psychological need to harm those who harmed him, but because he was broken and then saved, and he can do that for other people.  Being a good person is all the superpower you need. As a culture, I believe those are the heroes we need right now. And as for Dick Grayson, he’s a born showman, and I think it’s time for him to take the stage.

[thecomicsnexus]

Images

BATMAN: LEGENDS OF THE DARK KNIGHT #50 SEPTEMBER 1993 BY DENNY O’NEIL, BRET BLEVINS, DIGITAL CHAMELEON

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC FANDOM)

Joker is talking to some of the most prominent mob bosses in Gotham City about his latest plan to run an extortion racket. The plan consists in making a threat to a wealthy man, and then killing him, and so the next man they threaten would pay any amount of money to save his life. The mob bosses are not convinced by the plan, and just in that moment, Batman breaks into the place and knocks all the thugs down. However, he isn't sure who the clown is and when he asks him, the Joker tells him that he is just a clown that they kidnapped to provide them with entertainment. Batman is busy tying up the criminals, and he lets the Joker go on his way before one of the goons tells him the truth about the Joker.

(You can see the similarities between Blevins’ Joker and “The Man Who Laughs”)

Joker arrives at his hideout in a camp trailer park, where a man named Melvin Reipan is waiting for him. Melvin calls the Joker cousin, and he is preparing some chemical compound for Joker. When Melvin is done, Joker tells him to go outside while he stays in the camp to test the chemical on Melvin's cat. The compound works, and the cat dies with a smiling face, and so Joker sets his plan in motion by using a radio transmitter to make a threat to a man named Henry Haight.

Captain Gordon is leaving the GCPD Headquarters when he listens to the transmission. Another cop asks him for a lift, and when they're in Gordon's car, the officer reveals himself to be Batman. They discuss the threat made by Joker, and decide to try to keep Haight safe.

In the Batcave, Bruce tells Alfred that he will be attending the ceremony where Haight is supposed to be that night but he's going as Bruce Wayne. At the ceremony, there are police officers guarding the entrances and all the security measures that could have been taken were considered. However, when Haight is reading his speech, he begins to laugh, and starts going out of control. Bruce was next to him but couldn't do anything as the man died even before he hits the ground. The man died with a rictus grin, and Bruce manages to take the letter he was reading before dying. Back in the Batcave, Bruce is analyzing the letter when he finds that there is trace of some compund that is only activated by heat and its absorbed through the skin. Bruce remembers that Wayne Industries is making research on the same compounds, and decides to check there for more information. He also tells Alfred that the Joker's voice reminded him of someone but he couldn't recall exactly Who. He says that until he can make any progress in the investigation, he is staying alone in the Batcave to meditate. Alfred tells him to not blame himself for the Joker's actions.

Meanwhile, in the Joker's hideout, the mob bosses return to him after his first crime and now they are convinced that the plan may actually work, and so they join the Joker along with Melvin, who is looking for his cat, unaware that Joker killed it.

Batman visits James Gordon at the GCPD HQ, and Gordon tells him that Joker has made another threat. Gordon tells him that this time, the entire police department was going to protect the man and Batman tells him that he would investigate the whole case from another angle.

That night, the GCPD are protecting the second target in a building. The whole place is a fortress, and there is no way that Joker could get inside. However, at eight o'clock, the man begins to laugh uncontrollably, and the he dies in the same way as the first victim. Gordon and the police are shocked at the events, and a few moments later, Batman calls Gordon and tells him that the poison that killed the man might have been administrated earlier.

Later, Alfred drives Bruce home after retrieving information from Wayne Enterprises. Bruce learns that there is a man named Melvin Reipan who used to work at WE, but was recently fired. Reipan's area of expertise is chemistry, and the reason he was fired is because of his childish mentality. Bruce realizes that a man with such qualities would be easily manipulated. While looking through the window, Bruce watches as a pickup truck races in the opposite direction, and he is sure that Reipan was the man driving the vehicle. Bruce tells Alfred to turn around and follow the pickup. Reipan is indeed driving the truck, with Joker at his side. Joker tells him to lose the limo that is following them, but Bruce has already dressed up as Batman. He opens his car's door and leaps into the air, and lands inside the pickup. Batman then throws a punch through the window and smashes Joker's face. Joker takes control of the steering wheel and turns the pickup towards the edge of the bridge. The pickup falls off the bridge to the river and Batman is left hanging on the bridge as the truck sinks deeper into the river.

Back in the Batcave, Bruce analyzes his own glove searching for something that apparently isn't there. After calling Gordon, Batman is informed that the police have found the Joker's body downriver, and they wants Batman to check it out. Batman arrives at the morgue, and Gordon shows him the Joker's body. Gordon is glad to close the case, but when Batman takes the dead body's hand and scrapes the skin, he realizes that the body wasn't the Joker's.

Batman goes to Otto Drexel's place, another wealthy man that has been blackmailed for money, and asks him about the people who were extorting him. Batman realizes that the Joker used the body of someone else to throw Batman off his trail, and he decides to set a trap for Joker.

Later, when Joker and his goons take the payment from Drexel, Joker notices that there is a tracking device in the suitcase with the money. Joker tosses the tracker inside the helicopter that they were going to use to escape, and sends the pilot away. Joker is left with two of his goons on the rooftop. One of them talks to the Joker, and tells him that he knows now why his voice was familiar to him. The man told Joker that he knew that he was Red Hood, and that after he fell into the vat of acid, his appearance and voice changed. Joker is impressed but he doesn't know who the henchman really is. The crook takes off his coat and reveals to be Batman. Joker is enraged at the sight of him and he attacks the Dark Knight. His punch hardly harms Batman, and then Batman shows the clown how to deliver a knockout punch.

Some time later, Alfred takes Bruce to the Gotham Cemetery to pay his respects at the tomb of Melvin Reipan. Bruce made the man the tombstone ,and gave him a proper burial because he felt responsible for the death of the man, who was in fact the body the police found disguised as the Joker. In the end, Bruce is glad that Joker is not a threat to the city anymore.

ODD CREDITS

Still not being able to credit Bill Finger for the creation of Batman, they managed to give him credit for the first Joker story (as “suggest by the work of”), and he even got top billing. However, Joker was co-created between Finger and Jerry Robinson. Not sure about Bob Kane’s involvement though. In an issue about the Joker, Jerry Robinson should have received some kind of recognition.

To give DC some credit, in the 100th issue they re-did Dick Grayson’s origin, and then they gave credit to the three of them (as Robin was also co-created by Jerry Robinson). But in that particular case, Robinson inked the original story.

REVIEW

This is a very forgettable story. At simple sight is heavily inspired by the Joker’s first appearance, mixed with some other stories and adaptations like The Killing Joke and the Batman movie from 1989.

The most obvious reference is the Joker’s name that is pretty much Jack Napier (here, his cousin’s last name is Reipan, which is Napier backwards).

But I don’t feel like this story is worth revisiting. It’s a nice homage, but the Joker has plenty of good stories and this isn’t one of them.

Also, Batman has an impossible sense of humor here, and his scenes with Gordon feel embarrassing.

The issue includes pin-ups, I included some here done by Jim Lee, Kevin Maguire, Sandy Plunkett and Tim Bradstreet.

I give the issue a score of 6

[poutypanic]

Yes, My Love Chap 3

Chapter Summary: It’s the Readers turn to be in the hot seat :3 NSFW; Please read the tags. Just under 3k. 

Fic Summary: You’re the wife of a yakuza mob boss by the name of Hanzo Shimada (i mean you knew this already). You both work hard for the family, and on particularly hard, and frustrating days; the two of you like to get out your frustrations in a particular way.

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11166291/chapters/27806397

Now it’s your turn to submit, to be at Hanzo’s mercy. The terms and conditions have already been heavily discussed. Over dinner time, pillow talk after lovemaking. Much to Hanzo's insistence. You would have been happy to just get in here and be content with whatever happens. You do, in fact, trust him that much. But your husband would not allow it. There is a safe word and rules. As sparse as those rules are it makes him more comfortable to have them. Your hard limits that should never be breached and would never be breached.

Your husband has you straddling a Sybian. Thighs bound closely to your calfs. Hands bound behind your back. Every rope tight and snug, no mistakes in these knots. Connected to secured metal rings on the floor. Leaving you with hardly any wiggle room for any kind of reprieve. Hanzo looms over you, glides a finger across your cheekbone.

“It is about time I got a chance to break you.”

“Hmph. You’re welcome; for the privilege.”

A swift palm collides with your cheek. The smack echoing throughout the room. Your head snaps to the side, a few strands of your hair swings into your face. Sharp tingles migrate over your cheek, carrying little pinpricks and needles down into your neck. The sensation makes your body shiver and raises goosebumps all along your exposed flesh.

“I can’t believe you hit me…”

You look up at him and grin; a shit no matter what role you're supposed to be playing. Then chuckle through clenched teeth, trying to get more of a rise out of him. Hanzo grabs a hold of your neck and whispers into your ear, “Enjoy being cocky while it lasts.”

Hanzo gets down onto his knees, straddles the Sybian with you. Runs his hands over the expensive silver lingerie that still adorns your body.

“This is exquisite. Did I buy it for you?”

You wiggle back and forth, “You sure did, my love.”

Without any hesitation, he rips it down the middle. The noise carries across the room and sounds wonderful in your ears. Causes the muscles in your core to spasm and seize up. Then Hanzo shoves his hand down into your underwear so harshly that he rips more the of expensive lace. Wedges his fingers in between the machine and your crotch. Hanzo aggressively takes a hold of your throat and squeezes while he rubs vicious circles over your clit. Gathers slick and rubs it between the pads of his fingers. Brings his hand just in front of your face, spreads his fingers apart. Your clear slick strung there, pulling from finger to finger.

“So like a whore to be so wet already.”

You groan out of delight and nod in agreement. "Yes, a whore. Your whore, my love." Hanzo swiftly goes back into your underwear, slips his fingers inside of you. Sharing space with the moderately sized attachment that is housed there. He knows exactly what spot to stroke and finds it immediately. Your husband expertly able to undo you in mere moments. Your orgasm is damn near immediate and severe.

Your eyes are shut tight as your chest starts to quake. But you can hear the indignant huff of smugness from Hanzo and know exactly what his face looks like. This is only going to be the first of the many times he’ll be making you come tonight. By the time he’s done with you, you are going to be begging him to have mercy. That’s the only way he’ll have this night end.

“Are you coming already? Tsk. Tsk. No discipline.”

Hanzo moves off of the Sybian and down onto the floor. His cock bobs against the thin fabric of his pants, catching your wanton attention. You know what it looks like, but you still want to see it. The ruddy color, the bulging veins, and that glistening tip. Such a bratty sub you are. Even if talking back won’t get you exactly what you want, it will get you more of something else.

“Take your fucking pants off.”

Another harsh strike lands across the same cheek. You practically fall over at the sensation. The perfect sweet spot between painful and pleasurable. That one causing your walls to clench around the toy, and your breathing to come out shuddered through the shakes of your torso. Tingles continue to carry from your cheek to your toes as Hanzo threatens, “If you insist on mouthing off, I will be forced to gag you.”

“Oh, no,” You retort making sure to drag out the O sound, “How terrible.”

Hanzo switches the Sybian on to low before he leaves to make good on his promise. The machine whirs to life, causing your body to jolt. Already your stomach starts to clench and your back arches.  This is all a completely new experience. The machine having been bought just for the purposes of torturing you. The concentration of the low vibrations are already so intense it actually has you starting to sweat over what the higher modes must feel like.

Hanzo comes back with the same bit that you’ve shoved into his mouth time and time again. Lets it dangle in front of your face, swings it back and forth.

“Open up.”

You do as commanded and this time without any back talk. Maybe it’s in your best interest for you to start being a good girl, lest you end up having to endure more than you can handle. The thought of having to actually utter the safe word seeming like acid in your mouth. You will not be so weak; you're no coward you can take whatever he gives you. Your mouth opens up wide, (more than necessary really) allowing Hanzo to slip the metal bar between your teeth. As he fastening the strap around your head, the machine is still whirring. And you come for the second out of many, many more times. The contraption makes it feel as if it’s never going to stop. Continuously forcing your cunt to throb and clench over and over.

You certainly sound like you're being tortured. Wailing and crying every time the vibrations send a strong pang through your body. You shake your head, no, as Hanzo goes to turn up the dial. Your darling husband laughs cruelly at your desperation, having acclimated well into his unusual role.

“How does it feel not having a say in what happens to you?”

Hanzo doesn’t expect you to have an answer. Just wanted to watch your mouth snap shut, as he turns up the dial. Rubs the length of his cock through his pants to the sound of the scream that escapes through the confines of the bit. You desperately try to lift your hips to try to get away from it, knowing full well that you’re secured in place and won’t be finding any kind of relief. In fact, moving your hips proves to be a mistake as it only helps heighten the sensations even further.

The muscles in your thighs seize up and shake. You cling and claw at your own wrists for purchase. Curse, moan, and cry; until finally you give in and start begging. Hanzo looks so smug as you look him in the eyes and plead. He feigns as if he doesn't understand what you are trying to say, with a quizzical look and a turned ear.

Oh, that is infuriating. You nearly tell him to fucking shove it, but know full well he’ll understand that one, so you keep it to yourself. You batten down your anger through several deep inhales through your nose and try your hand at pleading once more. Hanzo responds by turning the speed up to full force. You scream and fall forward, biting the bit with full force. Having lost count of just how many orgasms you’ve had, but this one is by far the most intense. The oversensitivity both making your orgasms feel euphoric and awful at the same time.

Hanzo calmly gets up and wraps an arm around your waist. Sits you back up and presses his mouth against your ear.

“Do you know how it’s going to stop?”

You know, of course, you know. But your mind is so damn clouded by the intense sensations that you just can’t muster up the answer. You can’t even talk so you just grit your teeth against the bit and wave your head back and forth. Hoping that he’ll find the pitifulness and desperation in your motions to be sufficient.

It’s not. “You have to beg.”

You groan, “Please… Hanzo— No more!”

“Don’t you like coming?”

You vigorously nod, yes.

“Then why do you want it to stop?”

Your body jerks with every word, “It’s- so-o much…”

Hanzo lifts up the remote and holds it in front of your face. Hovers his thumb over the red button that promises you relief. He kisses your shaking shoulder and then your taut neck. Breaths against your ear and coos,

“Are you ready to please me?”

Hanzo isn't even done speaking before you start chanting, yes, over and over. God, yes. He brings his thumb down on the button and all the vibrations come to a complete and abrupt halt. But your pussy continues to tingle and clench. If it wasn’t for his arm around your waist you would collapse all over again. Hanzo removes the bit, throws it off to the side, the metal clanging loudly against the floor.

“Stay on just like that,” He drops his pants down to the ground. That cock that you had been so desperate for earlier bobs in front of your face. You’re praying he’ll use your mouth to come to his own end. Though you already know he’ll be using both. “How kind have I been to you?”

“So kind, my love.”

Hanzo snatches up your chin, forces you to look at him. His foot hovering over the remote on the floor.

“Was that sarcasm?”

Your torso tenses up and your hips lift up off the machine.

“No; no, no. Not sarcasm, my love.” It was absolutely sarcasm.

Hanzo hums contently, either choosing to show you some mercy, or actually believing you. Either way, his foot shies away from the remote. Instead, he pushes his thumb into your mouth, hooking it over your bottom teeth and tugs it open.

“You only have yourself to blame for your prolonged torture. This is lasting so long because you trained me so well.”

Hanzo takes ahold of your chin and shoves your mouth onto his cock. Presses his hips up, his cock hitting the back of your throat. Your back arches violently with the gag. He uses your mouth just as harshly as he’d use your cunt. Rutting in and out in quick succession, with no regard to your discomfort, or the drool running down your chin. The mess of your face gives him pause. Hanzo holds you fast against the base of his cock, your nose nuzzling into the neatly trimmed pubs there. Admires your struggle to breathe; the glassy sheen over your eyes, and the lewd stretch of your lips. You're so exhausted, so flushed, and absolutely stunning. Desire runs through his stomach; it is time to fuck you now.

Hanzo takes his time freeing you from the binds that keep you secured to the Sybian. Lifts you up and off, keeps your ass pressed against his crotch as he places you down onto the ground. He lets his fingers flutter over your clit. Briefly stroking the abused nub. You whine and whine and whine at the overstimulation and he finds it all to be so satisfying.

“Do you think if you cry enough, I will have sympathy for you?”

You are beyond words, so you just shake your head from side to side. Hanzo smacks your ass harshly, “I asked you a question.”

You whine out, “No, my love.”

Hanzo hums as the red flowers across your ass. Makes him think, “You are looking a little too pristine for my liking.”

Hanzo spreads your knees. Makes sure your grounded and ready for what he’s about to give you. Takes your plump fatty flesh into his hands, massages and kneads, before he rears one hand back and plants it down firmly onto one cheek. The first yelp isn’t nearly gratifying so he ups the ante by bringing his hand down faster and harsher. This time giving you two quick spanks. And, still, you merely give him a couple of meager grunts.

After all of that noise you were just giving him, this simply will not do. Hanzo secures a hip in one hand, and gets ready to turn up his assault to a point that would leave you no choice but to scream. Gives you no mercy, spanks you ’til you're swollen, shaking, and ruddy. Until each smack elicits a choked out scream and a musical sob. Only when it feels as if your skin is aflame and there is a brand new heartbeat in each cheek does he let up. Hanzo hovers his hands over your ass, feeling the heat that comes off. He lets his mind wander ahead, pondering over how many of these welts will bruise. How long will he get to admire his handy work once this is over?

“You have done exceptionally well. A little too cheeky for your position but… a good girl none the less.” Hanzo lines his cock up with your entrance. Savors the clenches and the twitches that happen before he’s even pressed the tip inside. “I suppose you have earned this.”

For the first time in this session, he does something with ease. Slowly pushes inside of you. Grips your hips, his thumbs pressing into the swelling on your swollen skin sending needles through your hips and up into your spine. Gradually works his way up to fucking you. It’s all just shy of unbearable, your cunt not nearly having had enough time to recover from the over stimulation. You bite your lips as the steady strokes turn into harsh and fast ones. His hips slamming into your mistreated ass.

This is too reminiscent of your regular lovemaking for Hanzo. Pulls him out of his mindset and gives him the urge to flip you over so he can wrap your legs around his waist and kiss your messy lips. Nuzzle your neck and groan into your ear. So he does. Hanzo frees your arms from the last of your binds. Flips you over and pulls your spread legs around his hips. Lays down on top of you and kisses your tear stained cheeks as he slips back inside of you. You throw your arms around his neck, and press your forehead against his shoulder. Hanzo finishes there as you come on his cock, one more time. Squeezing him with your velvet hot walls, welcoming every bit of his seed into you.  

Hanzo whispers in your ear, “Would you like me to take care of you, my love?”

You nod against his shoulder, not being required to speak anymore. Hanzo takes time to shower you with praises. Kisses you across your jawline and down into your neck. Caresses your messy hair, and nuzzles your face with his own. Your husband lifts you up into his arms, only when he feels the tension in your muscles starting to relax. It would be amusing to see you try and walk right now, (assuming that you could even get onto your own two feet) but humiliation can be saved for another time.

Hanzo carries you into the bathroom, starts up a bath. Laces it with oils and salts, good for soothing inflamed skin and tired muscles. When the temperature is just right he gets in first and helps guide you down between his legs to be laid back against his chest. You melt against his body. Become completely relaxed, the warm water and oils doing immediate wonders for your body. You hum as he caresses your arms, already on the verge of falling asleep. You tease, “That was decent for your first time, my dear.”

“I much prefer the former, my love.”  

“Don’t worry, I’ll never tire of the former.”

[disappointingyet]

The Irishman (I Heard You Paint Houses)

Director Martin Scorsese Stars Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Joe Pesci, Stephen Graham USA 2019 Language English, a little Italian (with English subtitles) 3hrs 29mins (!) Colour

No one gets out of here alive

There were a number of reasons why I was wary of this movie. In no particular order: 

a) It’s three and a half bloody hours long! 

b) The gangster genre has become such an overworn groove, an ever-wearier ritual.

c) And a prime example of that was Martin Scorsese’s most recent gangster picture, The Departed, which I think is tired and mediocre even without taking into account how pisspoor it is in comparison to Infernal Affairs, the Hong Kong trilogy from which it was hamfistedly adapted. 

d) The stills released showing the horrible Polar Express-looking FX used to make Robert De Niro look younger. 

e) De Niro even without the computer-tweaking: I’ve leant increasingly towards the notion that not only has he been terrible for years, but maybe that badness extends all the way through his career. Sure, he’s been in some terrific films, but apart from say, Raging Bull, King Of Comedy and Midnight Run, was he actually an asset to those films, or was it more than he just didn’t manage to ruin them?

f) And beyond Bob, I wasn’t sold on the idea of gathering Marty’s gang – Harvey and Joe – together, plus adding Al Pacino to the mix for the full 1970s Method madness.

The film opens with a classic bit of Scorsese floating camera through a corridor. But crucially we’re not in a New York nightspot, we’re in a care home. We’re here to meet Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro), former truck driver, union official and ‘house painter’ or hitman for the Italian mob, despite – as his nickname suggests – his lack of Sicilian heritage (at least he’s still a Catholic, though). Sheeran was a real man, as were most of the people we see in the film, and this is his almost certainly unreliable account of events.

We get at least two layers of interwoven flashback: one starting with how Sheeran first met Pennsylvania boss Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci) and from there his deepening involvement in organised crime. The second, which we come back to repeatedly, is a long drive to Detroit in the 1970s taken by Frank, Russell and their wives. It’s that first strand that has De Niro’s face tweaked by CGI: it’s every bit as awful as the first pictures suggested. It never looks remotely like any human being ever – and it also fails in its task of making De Niro look young enough to play the character. He’s meant to be in his thirties at this point, and people refer to him as ‘kid’ but his semi-animated face seems south of 50 at best. What’s been done to others in the film is less drastic, and so works better in that you don’t notice so much, although they all look like old men rather than the middle-age ones they are meant to be playing.

Along the way, Sheeran becomes the liaison between the mob and Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino), the infamous union boss who – as the film correctly informs us – was a huge figure in American public life from the 1950s through to the ’70s. Although a violent man and a largely unrepentant killer, Sheeran is instinctively loyal, and struggles with his need to be dutiful to Hoffa and his Italian mentors, who often have conflicting interests. 

I’m guessing the reason Scorsese insisted on the gargantuan running time is to get in the detail: all the names – so many names – and all the talking – so much talking, often that the thing in which two characters bounce back the same phrases to each other multiple times (something like – this is a paraphrase: ’I’m saying, “It’s what it is’/‘It’s what it is?’/‘That’s what they told me, ‘It’s what it is’/‘I can’t believe you’re telling me “It’s what it is”’).

The Irishman is a downbeat movie. All though it’s told first-person style, like both GoodFellas and its many imitators, what it is pointedly missing is the now familiar moment-of-glory section, when our anti-hero has too much cash to know what to do with. Sheeran’s triumphs are much more low-key: about being able to sit at the same table as the big boys, essentially – things that are clearly meaningful to him but not designed to seduce the audience in the way that certain parts of GoodFellas were. This is not a glamorous film. 

(Sheeran, for instance, tells us about his method for hits: he puts a lot of thought and preparation into it, but there’s none of the stealth or elegance implied in Le Samourai or Ghost Dog or Killing Eve – it’s all about being quick and making sure you chuck the gun in the river).

Mortality looms large: minor characters are introduced with captions that tell us the details and date of their deaths. These are often violent, but not always – cancer will get you just as surely (and more painfully) as two bullets in the back of the head. What awaits the survivors, the film suggests, is death later on when the world you knew and understood has disappeared. 

In some ways, the performance that holds the film together is Joe Pesci’s. He’s been mostly retired for a while – and the volcanic energy I associate with him has disappeared. He’s so quiet here, and that’s great. They’re all low-key – Bob, too, and Harvey Keitel (who only has a few lines), apart from Al. Pacino* is in full shouty mode as Hoffa, which is effective, if not how Hoffa actually expressed himself. A mention too of Ray Romano, who a) really is like the guy he plays, Bill Bufalino (there’s an interview online) and b) I should really get over the fact that he’s a reliable character actor and stopped blaming him for how atrocious his sitcom was.

The Irishman is unnecessarily long as movie. That won’t matter to most people who see it, because they will be watching on Netflix and will be able to break it into more digestible chunks, or at least have a running supply of snacks – when I was watching it I spent a fair amount of time thinking about what I was going to have for dinner and where I was going to buy ingredients on the way home. And the computer de-aging is laughable. 

But Scorsese bringing in the old guys for one final, mournful look at the history of organised crime and the history of the US in the second half of the 20th century? All that turns out to be surprisingly worthwhile – as with the Wolf Of Wall Street, I was sceptical about what Scorsese was up to, and as with that film, I’m happy to have been wrong. 

*Pacino (b1940) and Stephen Graham** (b1973) play long-time rivals more or less the same age as each other.

**The presence of Graham and De Niro in the same gangster film reminds me of how much better – in my opinion, obv – Graham’s Al Capone in Boardwalk Empire is to De Niro’s in The Untouchables. 

[oingoz]

so i totally made a frerard reclist. i enjoyed reading every single fic on here, it was just a matter of putting them all together in one place, which i’ve finally done! what to heck! so real quick, here’s a few notes:

- i am a gigantic bottom frank stan and therefore there is NO exclusively top frank fic on this list. actually, there’s only four that have frank topping at all, but even then gerard’s definitely the Main Top - long fics and oneshots combined, there’s a total of 87 recs on here, woo wee - the long fics have essentially been ordered from most favorite to least - the oneshots, listed below the long fics, have been sorted into categories rather than ordered based on how much i liked them. also i didn’t put descriptions on them as i did for the long fics

aaand that said, here’s the recs:

LONG FICS

✰ The Anatomy of a Fall [ 107k ] The unholy union of a high school AU and a ghost story. Gerard’s the new kid in town and he meets Frank, the strange kid who lives in the woods. This has gotta be my favorite fic ever… my love.

✰ Unholyverse series [ 177k ] Religion! Horror! Exorcisms! Piercings! And Gerard is a priest. SO brilliant, it is an actual masterpiece.

✰ Between The Wish And The Thing [ 23k ] Gerard has been in love with his best friend and bandmate for years. It’s basically nonstop domestic cuteness??? Your heart will melt???

✰ King and Country [ 52k ] Frank hasn’t really been a stable boy since he ended up in the archduke’s bed, but now Gerard’s exile is over and he’s king. Listen it’s an established relationship BUT don’t let this deter you as the author does tell how they got together- what I’m trying to say is, it’s a complete love story and they absolutely adore each other. Read it.

✰ Paris!Verse [ 43k ] They meet at Mikey and Alicia’s wedding and then fall in love in Paris. I really, really, really loved this fic.

✰ Promises, Promises [ 26k ] Gerard kidnaps Frank. A Stockholm syndrome fic with a fair amount of violence and dubious consent. If this doesn’t bother you though, I’d highly recommend it.

✰ Ain’t Nobody Gonna Love You Like The Devil Do [ 40k ] Frank is a good, God-fearing Catholic boy, and then Gerard happens. Essentially, Frank falls in love with a rebellious Gerard and it’s absolutely fantastic.

✰ To Cast Turpentine Kisses [ 22k ] (must be logged in to read!) And the subbiest Frank fic of them all is a not!fic. Frank is a student and Gerard is his teacher. What a blast, oh my GOD.

✰ Can Never Wrong This Right [ 23k ] It’s 1949 and Dr. Way is a professor of Archeology and Frank is his constantly exasperated (and secretly pining) assistant. Two words: soul bonding. Read it.

✰ Strange Steps [ 33k ] Gerard likes: A) popular Frank, and B) dancing. Everything’s chill until those two things are brought together when Frank suddenly needs dance lessons. Everyone loves a nice high school AU, right??

✰ In Repair [ 33k ] In which Frank has the hots for Gerard The Robot. This fic is chock full of things that are guaranteed to make your heart happy, I promise you that Gerard being a robot isn’t a burden in the slightest.

✰ Conclusions [ 49k ] Gerard moves in with Frank, and cozy domesticity and pining blossoms. Bexless never fails to please.

✰ He Was A Teenage Werewolf [ 45k ] Gerard is transfered to Queen Of Peace, a Catholic school, where he meets a weird kid named Frank. Another great high school AU except one of them’s a werewolf. (Don’t get deterred if werewolves aren’t your thing, it’s not even confronted until halfway through the fic.)

✰ Hearts Warmer than the Ice Keeping the Spinach Lasagna Cold [ 19k ] Gerard is in love with the punk boy who works in the deli department ♥️

✰ Becoming Joan [ 35k ] A complicated situation leads to Frank having to dress up as a girl. It would be bothersome except, he’s kinda totally alright with it…. Totally not what I was expecting based off of the fic’s original summary, it’s so good!!! Read it!!!

✰ Variations on a Fugue [ 36k ] An Early Edwardian AU. Frank Iero is a young nobleman currently living with his parents in the Lake District, where he plans on leading a quiet life away from London and its temptations. However, temptation moves into his neighbourhood in the face of one Gerard Way. Involves old-timey dialogue, soul melting intimacy, and a line that I’ve thought about everyday since I’ve read it.

✰ On the Midtown Direct [ 22k ] A love story, one train ride at a time. Just thinking about it makes me want to go read it again, it’s so precious.

✰ Buy Handmade [ 18k ] Gerard has an Etsy page and Frank works in a bakery. Mega cute.

✰ When We’re Both Thirty [ 84k ] They had agreed to use each other as a backup plan. If, by the time they both reached their thirtieth year, they hadn’t found someone to marry, they’d marry each other. They had thirty days left……. So maybe the concept is unrealistic and the fic is a bit long-winded BUT I think it’s completely worth it, there’s several scenes that are just Too Good, trust me.

✰ Moth to Flame (or whatever) [ 31k ] Frank owns a flower shop and Gerard likes to frequent it. Frank’s so soft in this fic, he loves his flowers and does yoga and !!!!!! you will love him.

✰ Catholic!Frank and Artist!Gerard Not!Fic [ 21k ] Frank starts to like Gerard a little too much and his faith is challenged because of it. Also he owns a vegan restaurant and Gabe takes a fancy to Mikey. A fun read!!!

✰ Professional Healers [ 34k ] In which Frank is a pediatrician and Gerard is his patient’s father. This is such a feel good fic, I love it so much.

✰ 24 Frames Per Second [ 79k ] The 1984-Movie!AU: everyone works at the Belleville Film Palace. This fic is angsty but I- normally not fond of angst- really enjoyed this because it’s so unique and realistic and, most importantly, they love each other a whole lot! It’s really good, I promise.

✰ Companion [ 33k ] A workplace AU full of cutesy domestic fluff!!!

✰ We Each Play The Part Written For Us [ 27k ] Gerard’s had a crush on Frank since forever and Frank’s only just now getting around to returning those feelings….. That’s the gist of it but it’s not as angsty as it sounds, it’s actually super sweet.

✰ Black Market Blood [ 16k ] Frank has a crush on Gerard The Vampire. They’re both sweethearts in this omg.

✰ Distance in the Afterlife [ 15k ] Gerard comes out during Projekt Revolution and drama ensues.

✰ Public Enemy [ 21k ] In 1932, Gerard Way has been making a name for himself robbing banks up and down New Jersey. Frank Iero, analyst for J. Edgar Hoover’s Division of Investigation, is determined to catch him. Good good stuff.

✰ sing it for the n00bs [ 17k ] Gamer AU, wherein the Danger Days universe is an MMORPG. Frank has a strange way of going about winning Gerard’s affections.

✰ A World So Small [ 31k ] Victorian AU. When Frank is advised by his doctors to leave London for the country, he makes arrangements to stay with his friend, Michael. What Frank has no idea of at the time is that Michael has an older brother, whose presence in the house he conceals. So so intimate and sweet. I really do have a soft spot for historical AUs.

✰ Under the Hide of Me [ 18k ] Prohibition in New Jersey means mob bosses and bootleggers running hooch up and down the shore and into the city. Gerard, Mikey, and Ray are running an operation for the Capo Maranzano, but when rival factions are trying to take over the business, Frank Iero, from a prominent Mob family, is sent to them as their new driver. Also the Ways and Ray are werewolves. This was a good read, Gerard’s a major alpha.

✰ Five Times Gerard Pays for it and One Time He Doesn’t [ 22k ] A rentboy fic wherein Gerard (the customer) falls for Frank (the service-provider) and can’t figure out how to go from paying-for-sex to “dating” or if that’s even possible. A great read.

✰ Cover To Cover [ 32k ] Frank is fine until Gerard opens his large branch of Way Books & Café down the street, putting his small bookshop in danger. He basically hates Gerard because of it. Except, Frank doesn’t know that coffeeaddict, the anonymous guy he’s falling in love with over the internet, is actually Gerard himself. I was hesitant, at first, going into this one because they’re both in relationships at the start of the story, but reading this totally paid off because it’s so good. There’s a scene in particular that was so precious, I got emotional..,.,.. good stuff!

✰ What Ships Are For [ 22k ] Gerard is most concerned when he finds that, while away at university, his father has taken in a new ward of his own brother’s age. But upon his return home, he finds the young man to be particularly enchanting. Includes old-timey dialogue and a whole bunch of pining.

✰ Break The Walls (And Kill Us All) [ 27k ] Frank owns an antique store, but he’s not very good at it. About the only thing he IS good at is having a crush on his best customer. And housing ghosts in his shop, apparently.

✰ Thing-Thing [ 43k ] When Gerard signed the admissions paperwork for the Fordhaven School for Boys, he knew he was signing up for four years of sexual frustration. No one was gay at Fordhaven. In his senior year, though, this stupid gay freshman disproves Fordhaven’s straightness, and throws Gerard’s entire world off-kilter. (Includes a fair amount of underage drinking/drug usage.)

✰ Chimerical Romantics [ 22k ] A 19th century love story. If you're into beautifully written historical AUs, then this is for you ;)

✰ I’m Not On Desolation Row series [ 21k ] Desolation Row!Gerard meets I’m Not Okay!Frank at an illegal show in New York on Halloween. Frank’s such a twink in this, not even in a smutty way, he just has a twinky personality and it’s great.

✰ Love and Other Cliches [ 28k ] Bob Bryar is Gerard’s guardian; he is also a witch. When it becomes obvious that Gerard and Frank are hopelessly, silently in love with each other, Bob finds himself on a mission to get them together. But when nothing seems to be working, he resorts to real spellwork, and now Frank and Gerard are stuck in a romance novel with only one way out.

✰ Is It Enough to Have Some Love? [ 15k ] Frank and Gerard used to be best friends before Gerard decided to leave the little town they lived in and study art in New York. Four years later, he comes back to live at his parents’ house. He’s not Frank’s friend now, he’s not even the old Gerard anymore - he’s someone new and strange and when Frank gives in and starts spending time with him again, he realizes they might never be friends again. But they might be something else… This is kind of like friends to enemies to friends to lovers?? It’s cute.

~

ONESHOTS *(note: fics marked with a heart emoji are Big Faves)

~

bottomy bottom frank!

✰ Showers and Sexts [ 9.3k ] (alright i’ve just gotta say, this is probably my favorite oneshot Ever??? they love each other so much,) 💕

✰ In The Music Of Time [ 12.9k ] (okay and one more comment, this one’s a TRIP omg) 💕

✰ Curriculum [ 7.6k ]

✰ Kings Harlot [ 8k ] 💕

✰ As Mine See It [ 2.4k ]

✰ a story about two boys (hope is all we’ve got) [ 4.4k ]

✰ Only for You [ 3k ]

✰ I’m Yours (the Valentine’s Day fic) [ 4.8k ] 💕

✰ Cross My Heart [ 2.2k ]

✰ Veins Are Red, Veins Are Blue [ 8.4k ]

✰ Full Moon [ 4.8k ]

✰ The Neighbor [ 4k? ] 💕

✰ Even a Father Has Sins to Confess [ 9.2k ] 💕

✰ You Want A Ride, Cowboy? [ 5.4k ]

✰ forgiveness [ 2.6k ]

✰ the penitence ball [ 4.6k ]

regular get-together AUs (aka everything’s basically normal except mcr doesn’t exist)

✰ Falling For You [ 6k ]

✰ Crazy Mad For Him [ 7.3k ]

✰ Static [ 8.5k ] 💕

✰ Breathe on your neck, make knots with our fingers [ 8k ]




✰ I Know What It Means To Me [ 9.1k ]

✰ By the Book [ 10.5k ]

✰ Food For Thought [ 8.6k ]

✰ Pulse [ 9k ]

✰ Life as a Symptom [ 10.8k ]

teen AUs

✰ Difficulty to Concentrate [ 6.8k ] 💕

✰ Not Friends [ 671 ] 💕

✰ And the wonders you can do [ 2.8k ]

✰ When You’re a Boy [ 3.9k ]

✰ Kerplunk! [ 4.2k ]

✰ This Is Us [ 3k? ] 💕

✰ I’ve got the cure you’re thinkin’ [ 3k ]

✰ Crayon Hearts and Trembling Hands [ 1.7k ]

✰ Cigarette Smoke and Strawberries [ 5k? ]

bandfics (aka mcr does exist)

✰ I’ve Got Friends in Closed Spaces [ 4.2k ]

✰ Sucker Bet [ 2.7k ]

✰ Mind The Gap Between The Train And The Platform [ 8k ]

✰ Sunday Best [ 6.9k ]

✰ A Necessary Requirement [ 3.8k ]

fluffy PWPs

✰ Then Came You [ 1k ]

✰ A Soft Radiance [ 2.6k ] 💕

✰ The Dazzling Lances of Our Love [ 1.6k ]

misc. AUs

✰ Mixed Bathing At Home [ 7.1k ]

✰ Roses Are See-Through [ 6.7k ]

✰ you probably couldn’t see for the lights [ 3.2k ]

✰ And The Autumn Moon Is Bright [ 10k ]

the end :)