#soap would 100% bully him for this when he finds out

[death-does-grip]

hc that simon has the white people curse and his face gets red sooo easily.

two minutes exercising or in the cold? his face is already completely flushed pink. he hates it.

[the-californicationist]

Let's get you to 100, new gif addition and prompt ask!

Reader likes being controlled, even as she chafes against it, but there's only 1 person she wants to have that privilege.

You decide who, have fun writing lovely 😏

heyyy!! im backkkkkkk 😘 sorry for the wait! had to go on a bit of a hiatus, so thanks for being patient. and thank you so much for the ask!! sexy as hell babes omg. hope you like it. i went a little overboard on the word count sorry 🫣

TW: light bdsm and contol themes, rough sex

Soft Reins

His voice followed you down the wet sidewalk as you made your escape, striding in long reaching steps to put more distance between yourself and your apartment. 

“C’mon, bonnie! Ye cannae walk in this shite. It’s pissin’ down. Bonnie!”

You waved and smiled up at Soap as he hung over the balcony of your shared space, a deep frown pasted across his mouth as he tried to dodge the raindrops. 

Living with the boys, as you lovingly called them, was full of challenges. For one, they seemed to be oblivious to deep cleaning of any kind, and if you didn’t have the primary school style chore chart hanging on the fridge, your whole house would descend into chaos. The only exception was their captain, and his standards were thankfully on par with your own. 

But, even worse, they were nosey. They seemed to love to be in your business, always making excuses to join you on nights out, standing in an all-too-intimidating pack when you brought home dates from said outings. Even Price was not above casually bullying an unsuspecting potential someone. It was enough to drive a girl mad.

You never got a call back. Any bloke brave enough to follow you back to your place, flanked by your surly entourage, was only as courageous as he needed to be to get his dick wet. After that, he’d ghost you. There were plenty of eligible partners who had much less intimidating roommates. 

In the past year, the longest relationship you had was with a man who didn’t make it over to your house for nearly four months. You had gone through all sorts of trouble to keep the boys from finding out about him, and you guarded his address like it was the nuclear launch codes. You thought you were in the clear when the team had to leave for another deployment, but one morning — when you were wearing only your boyfriend’s tee shirt — they decided to come tromping back in, totally unannounced. 

It was all over, then. Back to the drawing board. 

Gaz was the worst offender by far. Once, when you had planned a spa date for yourself, you’d been treated to all sorts of services that you didn’t order. The staff kept insisting that it was complimentary, but you knew in your heart that it wasn’t. By the end of the visit, you were left fretting about the bill. But, when you walked up to the counter, you discovered that it had already been paid. 

 “Oh! Your mister called it in. Already paid.” The clerk’s smile was blinding in only the way a clerk’s smile could be.

“And who is the mister?” You smiled to yourself, not with much joy, shoving your credit card back into your wallet.

“Well, he said he was your mister. A Mr. Garrick?”

Of course. 

You had only to turn around to see his shining red Beamer revved and waiting to take you to lunch. Gaz’s sunglasses gleamed in the daylight as he grinned down at you, standing over his car, his elbows resting on the roof, smug as could be.

You met him in the parking lot, bags and bags of essential oils and spa creams, heavy in your hands.

“Kyle,” you said curtly, “What did you do?”

“Nothin’, babes. Get in. We’ve got a table at that sushi joint you like.”

You complained that Gaz was overstepping. You moaned about Soap being heavy-handed. You lost your temper when you found the fourteenth Air Tag that Ghost had sewn into the bottom of your trainers. It was too much. You hated feeling trapped, and you thrived in your independence. But, living with these men meant that your desire for freedom was directly at odds with their desire for control. 

It wasn’t their fault, really. That was who they were. They were good at their high-profile special operation world-saving careers because they were good at control. It was what made them great soldiers. 

But, one of them was far better at it than the others. 

Captain John Price didn’t follow you down the street. He didn’t chase you in his shadowy, blacked-out Evija. And he certainly didn’t need to hide trackers in your clothes. No; his control was insidious. It made your blood boil, and it had you questioning your every move. He had a way of making you think that what he wanted was what you wanted, and when you ultimately discovered his plans, you could only blame yourself. Price was the king of control, but that wasn’t the worst part. 

The worst part was that you liked it. 

You hadn’t been home for the holidays in years. Ever since lockdown, and your huge workload at your office, you just couldn’t find the time to make it back. International flights were hard to plan, expensive, and it seemed like something always came up. When you mentioned it off-handedly to Price, he’d comforted you, 

“Tha’s alright, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ll find the time this year.”

That was in June. By December, your boss had mysteriously found out that you had a full week of extra paid time off that you needed to take, and your credit card called you to let you know that your airline mileage points had doubled. It was as if everything in the universe had aligned so that you could make it back to your family. 

You’d told the boys over dinner one night, and they celebrated with you, happy for you to be able to finally live your dream. Then, Price had grabbed your phone, reading the email and going over the fine print. 

It grated on you, but you needed to learn how to pick your battles in this house. So, you waited for his approval, tight-lipped. 

“Double miles… ah, there’s a catch,” his voice rumbled in his chest, low and even. 

“What catch?” You panicked. Nothing could upset this perfect balance you’d achieved.

He pointed down to the conditions, and you read it for yourself as he told you,

“Says here they granted double miles for two tickets purchased.”

“Two? Who the fuck am I going to get to come to Saskatoon in December?” You sighed, head in your hands, trying to figure out how you were going to make it work.

“Well, the boys are heading up to check on MacTavish’s mum, but Kate’s got me on a leash. I can ask her to make me remote on this project, if you want.”

His tone wasn’t sly. It didn’t sound like he was hiding something. If anything, he sounded earnest, and it was such a kind gesture of friendship that he would be willing to join you in order to help you see your folks. 

But, that’s what wormed its way under your skin. You knew it was him. You just couldn’t prove it. Months of God knows what kind of backdoor, black-market dealing and manipulation, all orchestrated just to…

Just to what? Make you happy?

Inwardly, you struggled against your bindings, the invisible ropes he’d so carefully weaved just to have you come to him of your own free will, bent on your hands and knees, obedient and eager for your reward.

“Jonathan…” You started to resist, to rebel. Every time you started your sentence, you were stopped in your tracks by the cold, hard truth: He didn’t force you to do anything. You’d done it all of your own free will. 

That was how it had started. But, holy fuck had it escalated. 

Price was the perfect gentleman on your flight over, mysteriously charming his way into business class seats. He downloaded some of your favorite movies onto his iPad, even though you didn’t remember ever telling him that they were your favorites. He even snuck his way back to the flight attendants’ galley, laughing and joking with them, procuring you two extra desserts from the carts since you were such a fan. 

Then, he met your family, and he fit in perfectly. It was as if he was the missing member, a long lost kin, just waiting to be reunited into the fold. Your mother couldn’t figure out what had you so bothered. 

“About time you brought a good one home. Even your Uncle Billy likes him, and Billy —”

You rolled your eyes, 

“And Billy doesn’t like anyone, I know. I know.”

“Honey,” your mother looked at you with a sternness that she didn’t often muster, peering at you over her rose-rimmed glasses, “Why can’t you just let someone take care of you for a change? He’s a good man.”

A good man. 

John Price was a killer. No, he was worse. He was a CIA-funded, black ops, government-overthrowing war machine, capable of literal atrocities. You hadn’t heard much, but you’d heard enough. If any of these people knew how quickly he could turn a crowded room into an empty one, none of them would be looking so fondly at the way he snuggled with the dog or complimented your dad’s knife collection. 

But, that wasn’t why you protested, was it? If you were really being honest with yourself, the reason why you were so against letting Jonathan War Machine Price run your life was that it was yours to run. You didn’t need anyone’s help.

You didn’t need it.  

You could handle things on your own. 

You liked being able to spread your wings, fly your own path…

You were nobody’s puppet.

But, you were starting to like the way he was pulling your strings. When he would take the pressure of choice away from you, after you’d already been making a million other decisions at the end of a long day, it eased something inside of you in a way that nothing else could. It was like he was using those huge, rough palms to massage the hurt out of your head, to show you that it didn’t need to be such a battle, you didn’t need to keep fighting. He would do the fighting for you, and he was determined to show you that he was good at it. 

Even now, as you stomped through the rain, you knew what you were running from. You told yourself you were avoiding John, that you wouldn’t let him see you struggling to hold yourself together. After a much needed switch into a different position at work, the stress of your own expectations weighed heavy on you. But, you wanted them to. You wanted to know that you could still make it alone. You didn’t need John Price. 

But, you’re wearing the slicker he bought for you when yours got left in a cab.

So?

But, you smell like oud, saffron, and bergamot; the perfume oils he found for you at that local boutique you love. The same one he always compliments when he smells you wearing it. 

So?

But, you’re tired and wet and cold, and all you want is for him to tell you what you want.

So?! 

The soft, amber glow of a cigar stopped you in your tracks. A man was sitting on your bus stop bench, his arm slung over the back of the seat, his legs spread wide, taking up as much space as he liked. He was smoking slowly, enjoying every breath, savoring the flavors. Flavors you knew all too well: vanilla, licorice, sweet cedar, and whiskey. 

His sharp, blue eyes only met yours when you let out a labored sigh.

“What are you doing here, John?”

He took another drag, letting the ashes smolder, their warm glow making him look more and more like the Devil, a fallen man bathed in the light of a fire he lit all by himself. And damn proud of the blaze, too. 

“Just waitin’ for my ride,” he smiled in the way that a cat must smile at a mouse under its paw, “Do you wanna sit down, sweetheart?”

“No! I don’t wanna sit down,” you threw up your hands, “I want you to stop meddling in my life. You’re not allowed to keep making me feel like… like I need someone… some — Like I need someone’s fucking help. I don’t need anyone but me.”

His tone shifted in a sudden heat, like a flash in the pan, unexpected,

“Do you think I have any bloody help?”

Price let the question sink in before standing in front of you, his gaze never leaving your eyes. His voice was soft and gravelly, thick with smoke, and yet each and every word cut into you as sharp as a blade,

“Do you think anyone comes to help me when I’m deep in some bullshit, fuckin’ around in Rammaza? Just me, is it? By myself?”

“I don’t… no, I don’t know…” You hated how small your voice sounded in this tiny bus stop hut, the pounding rain drowning out your words. 

John looked at you as if he was waiting on you to find another answer, and then his face softened. He flung the cigar onto the pavement and crushed it out under his boot, smashing the tobacco into the cement without mercy. The object of his affection, once consumed, now snuffed out under his own power. 

His hands wrapped around your shoulders, caging you in, warm and safe from the wind blocked by his broad back. He sighed, his mouth drawing a tight line across his face, 

“Of course I need fuckin’ help. I have my men, and they have me. And I keep you here,” he jammed a finger hard into his chest, “Deep inside me, remindin’ me what I need to come home to. I’m not… meddling in your life, love. I’m trying to put you in mine. I thought…” 

He pulled away, sitting back down, looking up at you with a unique look on his face, 

“I thought that’s what you wanted. If I’m wrong,” he let out a dark, bitter chuff, “You need to tell me right now. ‘Cause all my plans have you in them.”

The rain made the plexiglass roof sound like it was shattering, over and over, the concussive slam of the storm created an oppressive din. He was waiting there, looking at you, asking for your next move. What was your plan?

“Am I wrong, sweetheart?”

You waited, trying to see how many steps ahead he was in front of you. If you said yes, if you said no; what decisions had already been made for you? Did he know what you were going to say before you did? And the real question: Why were you fighting so hard against something you wanted so badly?

You shook your head back and forth, just enough for him to see. HIs eyes lit up with hope and energy, a renewed flame.

“Then, come home with me. Quit bein’ so bloody hard on yourself. Let’s get you dry, love. C’mon.”

So, you obeyed. 

Nothing was more humbling than climbing into a squat little sports car when you were drenched to the bone. You curled yourself right into his cage, feeling silly for ever wanting to escape from it. Why were you pulling so hard against such soft reins? Couldn’t you see that he wanted to take care of you? To remove all of your barriers, to clear your path? You would be more powerful under his wing, soaring far beyond what you were capable of on your own. Why deny yourself a bite of the apple? It was ripe, the snake had promised, and sweet. 

He helped you up the stairs to your flat, walking you past his men as they gathered together in the kitchen, speechless, for once. None of them dared question their captain’s choices, and he had chosen you. More than that, it was clear that you had chosen him. 

Once you were in his room, behind a locked door, he held up a hand and stopped you in the entryway, shivering and dripping by the door. 

“Wait here.”

You waited. 

You waited some more. 

Just when you thought you would turn around and take yourself to bed, he returned dressed in a dry tee and a pair of running shorts. He carried two large, fluffy towels, and his face was set into a serious mask. All business. 

“Take off your clothes.”

You hesitated, looking at him to make sure you heard him correctly. 

He met your gaze, standing so close to you that you could feel his breath against your cheek. His chest was inches from your face, and you had to look up in order to meet his eyes.

“Take.”

He grabbed your phone out of your hand and dropped it on his entry table.

“Off.”

He rucked the jacket off of your back, peeling it down your arms and letting it fall to the ground with a wet slap.

“Your.” 

His fingers pulled the tie out of your ruined braid, letting the elastic roll onto his wrist. 

“Clothes.”

His hands went back to his side. It was up to you to do the rest. He wasn’t here to do everything for you. You were not his plaything. You had to choose to obey him. He wanted to watch you choose to follow his orders, not because you needed to, but because you wanted to.

Slowly, and a bit unsure, you began to shed your layers. You started with your shirt, almost knocking into him with your elbows since he was towering over you, standing in your space. Then, you writhed out of your jeans, peeling them off of your legs, kicking away your shoes in the process, stepping gingerly out of your socks, needing to hold onto his thick trunk for balance. 

Now, in just your bra and panties, you waited, hoping he’d hand you a towel. 

“What did I say?” He asked in a hushed tone, the timbre containing just enough warning to make your cheeks hot. 

“No, John. The boys are here in the kitchen!” You protested, whispering in a low hiss. 

This was beyond what you expected from him. You’d been keeping him at arm’s length, despite his constant pressure to be in your life. Sure, there had been moments of weakness. You’d shared a kiss, and you had let his hands wander when you watched a movie together on the sofa last weekend, but that was as far as things had gone. Stripping naked in the bright light of his apartment suite was something else entirely. Not to mention what sort of noises would seep out under his doorway if things got out of hand. 

“Stop,” he grabbed you by your face with both hands, making you look at him, “Stop fighting me. I am in this. All the way. The only time I wanna hear you tell me no is when you really mean it. If you say stop, I will immediately stop. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded. He released you and put his hands on his hips, impatient. 

So, you slid out of your bra, slowly letting the cups pull away from your breasts, the lace cold and damp on your skin as it joined your outfit on the floor. As you rolled your panties off of your hips, stepping out of them and shoving them under your jacket with your toe, you felt more than just naked. You felt vulnerable and a little scared. 

What would he say? What did he plan to do? You realized, with a chilly shudder, that you didn’t even know his personal preferences. He’d never even given you a cursory glance into his mind, and reading his thoughts was impossible with that serious poker face. Most men wore their thoughts right across their eyes, or some (like Soap) even muttered them aloud, unconcerned about any judgment or scrutiny. If a man wanted you, you’d know. They were an open book. 

But the captain was very hard to read. 

Suddenly, as you stood back up, warring with your own mind, you were surrounded in fuzzy, comforting warmth. He was drying you off, wiping your arms and legs with reverent care, squeezing the rain out of your hair, using the corner of the cloth to wipe your face, holding you in his arms when you felt weak, off-balance, exhausted. 

It seemed as if the more you relaxed into him, the more power you gave up, the more it began to stoke his fire. While you became soft and pliant, he shifted into a fierce protector, covering you with his hands, bracing you with his heavy bones.

Price wrapped your hair into a high bun with an unexpected level of skill, and he carefully stretched your hair tie around it. When he turned to face you, you caught him staring at your body, raking his eyes over your breasts and studying the curve of your mons. It was as if he was groping you with his eyes, and each swipe of his gaze felt like a lick from his warm tongue. It was enough of an invasion that you wanted to put your hands in front of yourself, to hide out of some sort of shame.  

But when you made a move to cover yourself, the look in his eyes was enough to make you stand with your hands at your sides, allowing yourself to be on full display for him and that ravenous glare. He hadn’t even needed to chastise you. His mere desire was enough of a correction. 

Then, almost like a reward, he wrapped the towel around you, letting you hold it tight to your chest. 

“Tell me what’s goin’ on inside that pretty head,” he commanded you, his voice quiet but firm. It was just a simple question, but you knew it was loaded. So, you brushed him off, tossing out cheap bait, wrapping the towel a little tighter around yourself, hoping he’d drop it. You shrugged,

“Just cold.”

His jaw set with a click, and that soft purr became a warning growl,

“That’s one,” he held up his finger, “The next lie will cost you that towel, pretty girl.”

You stared at him blankly, trying to find a way through this labyrinth he had — apparently — custom built for you, sending you down twists and turns and dead ends as if he knew exactly how you’d try to steal back some control. But every way out seemed like a worse fate than simply allowing yourself to trust him. Nevertheless, you tried again. 

“I am cold, and I’m tired. It’s been a long day, John,” you sighed, shifting towards him, trying your best to take back the lead to his strange dance, “C’mon, don’t you wanna take me to bed?”

You reached out a hand and snaked it under the hem of his shirt, exploring untouched skin, letting your nails scrape through a dark patch of thick hair, right above his waistband. Your fingers got as far as his navel before he snapped. 

The cold absence of him ripping the towel away from you felt worse than you expected it to. In fact, you hadn’t actually taken him seriously. You protested, indignant,

“Hey! What —-“

“You think this is the same game you’ve always played,” he snarled, throwing the towel away and shoving you to your knees, his hold crushing and cruel on the nape of your neck, “You think, because those lads will eat any scraps you throw to them,” he nodded behind you, gesturing toward his men only a thin wall away, “That I’ll be satisfied with a taste, hm?”

His tone was mocking, and there was an undercurrent of darkness that lingered between each word like a warning, like the red of a poisonous berry that shouldn’t be picked and yet sagged ripe and ready on its stem. 

“You always get your way with them, don’cha? You know that a bit of skin and a little attention will keep them on you for days. And they reward you for it. They text you at all hours of the fuckin’ night, beggin’ you for just one more look, one more bite,” his mouth was right next to your ear, bending over you, casting his shadows across your face, and all you could do was kneel there, fully under his control, unable to move against his immense strength, “But, that’s not what I want.”

Your eyes dared to slant over to the growing monster that pressed its warm body against his shorts, hanging heavy and stretching the fabric, and you dared to hiss at him, even in your compromised position, using his title like a knife, aiming to scrape him with it,

“Seems like you do, Captain.”

He smirked, you could feel his smile against the sensitive skin of your earlobe, and you could see his almost infernal expression out of the corner of your eye. Even though you were trying to get under his skin, it made you feel like you were playing right into his hand yet again, helpless to his will. 

He stood up, never letting go of his grip on your neck, pinching the muscle like you were a caught rabbit, his writhing prey. Then, with a force that made your stomach drop, Price shoved your cheek into the crotch of his shorts, bringing you face to face with the outline his swelling shaft. Your nose was buried in the fabric, and you could smell the soap of his detergent as well as the musk of his sex that throbbed underneath. 

Then, he rucked down his waistband to show himself to you, pressing his length along your cheek, the softness of his skin surprising you just as much as the size of his thick, hefty prick. 

He held your neck in one hand and his cock in the other as he began to stroke himself up and down, letting your temple  and cheekbone feel the slip of his velvet foreskin. You could hear soft, wet clicking sounds as he coated himself in his own fluid, using the clear, dripping pearls as lube. 

You tried to move your jaw to taste him, eager to know if the heady, intoxicating smell of his skin matched his precome, hungry for his reaction to your mouth. But he stopped you, tightening his grip and scolding you like a naughty pet,

“My body wants your body, love. I’ll admit that,” he chuckled, not halting his lurid, jerking pulls, using your cheek for friction, “But I want more. I don’t want a taste. Or a bite. I won’t be satisfied.”

He frowned a bit, shrugging off his confession before he continued, 

“I want you to trust me. Trust that I’ll be here for you, that I’ll always be here. So,” he tugged on your flesh, forcing you to meet his fiery gaze, “Tell me what you thought.”

What were you supposed to say? That you were insecure about your looks? That you weren’t sure if he’d approve? That you were either too much or not enough and you weren’t sure which?

You turned your mouth as much as you could, trying to at least lick along the warm underbelly of his rod, aching to taste him, but he jerked you back into place, laughing at the disappointment on your face,

“Lips to yourself, love. Only good girls get fed.”

You rolled your eyes up to him, and you knew you had to make a choice. He was joking, but it was a façade. He was using it like a shield, waiting to see if you would actually relinquish your control or if you’d cut and run like you did with everyone else. 

So, you decided to trust him, giving him what he wanted, a full confessional on burning, bent knees, eyes cast up at your new master, praying for his communion, your tongue eager for his body and his blood and his love.

You made sure his eyes were locked on yours as you spoke softly, unflinching in your resolve,

“I was worried you wouldn’t like what you saw. I needed you to want me. I was afraid.”

The relief that washed over him was nearly palpable. His whole body responded to your admission, all of that tightly-wound uncertainty melting away in the heat of your submission to him. 

“That’s it. Good,” his voice was heavy with his relief, and he almost seemed like he was slipping into a trance, rubbing himself in steady, long strokes, shuddering against your cheek, “And what now, hm? You want me to let you go? Let you free? Or are you gonna let me in?”

You didn’t break your eye contact with him, but you wavered, sure of your decision but overwhelmed when you had to say it out loud. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the slick mess he was forging between them, trying to find some comfort. You took a breath and told him,

“I’ll let you in, John.”

His throat held back a long, low groan, the pleasure of your surrender or the pleasure of his hand forcing it from his chest. You weren’t sure which. 

His grip loosened on your neck, but he didn’t let go. His voice was barely above a whisper as he told you his rules in hushed, broken phrases, holding himself back from the edge,

“You belong to me, now, sweetheart. You might be in charge at your bloody job, but everything else is mine. Do you hear me?”

You were going to answer him, you’d even planned to tack on a cheeky little yes, sir, just to show him you were playing along, but he had other plans. Always a step ahead. Before you could even breathe to speak, he pressed the tender head of his cock between your lips and deep into the warm hollow of your mouth, his wide form forcing your jaw to fall open to let him inside of you. It shocked you to be taken that way, not roughly but so certainly, with such surety, as if there was no other choice but for him to take you. You shifted, but with his knuckles tight against the base of your skull, you couldn’t retreat. Other than lolling your tongue along the body of his shaft, or swallowing against its drooling tip, you were powerless. 

His face twisted into a hungry sort of smear full of teeth and lips, grimacing at the feeling of being surrounded by you. Every inch that he drove himself deeper, his breathing would halt until at last, as he buried himself into your clenching throat, his lungs had emptied, and he was sighing with a ragged, guttural cry. 

“When you’re with me…” He continued his dark promises to you, the words choppy and broken, only threaded loosely together between panting gasps, “Even when I’m a fuckin’ world away, I promise that I will take care of you,” he pet your cheek with the softest affection, admiring you like a work of art, “All of you. You will sleep when I say. You will eat when I say. You will come when I say,” he smiled a little more cruelly at that, watching your eyes widen. And, as you began to wish for air, planting your palms against his firm, muscular thighs, ready to push away, he looked down at you with a lurid satisfaction, “You will breathe when I say.”

You were choking. You could hear yourself in the quiet of his room, your throat gurgling, full of your own viscous drool, escaping where it could along the stretched line of your mouth, running down your chin and neck. You felt the flare of panic rise up within you, and you tried to pull away in earnest, writhing against his grip, trying to escape from him and failing, turning your body in shameful futility. 

Price bent his face toward you, folding himself to whisper his lustful words, making sure your eyes met his, pressing your nose into his soft pubic hair,

“You. Breathe. When. I. Say.”

He kept himself contorted like that, keeping his face low to watch your eyes, to witness your struggle, and you felt hot tears burn down your face, the effort overcoming you. But, you wanted to show him that you could obey. You wanted to trust him, to show him that you were willing to give him your freedom, knowing that only he was worthy of such a gift. So, you swallowed deeply, watching as it made his eyes flutter, and again, and again. Over and over, you closed your throat around his steel-hard length, choking when it became too much. 

Still, he kept you there. As brave as you’d been with partners in the past, even those moments were fully eclipsed by this one. You had never even thought that you might be capable of holding your breath for so long. 

You were sobbing wholeheartedly now, your eyes reflecting your desperation, tears pooling and spilling across your face. He was watching you cry, whispering breathless nothings, soft words of encouragement,

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You’re so fuckin’ good. My good girl.”

Just as purple and blue spots began to obscure your vision, he pulled himself out of you in a terrible, wet departure, leaving you clutching his hips, sobbing into his belly, watching his hard cock pounding, swaying at full height, swollen with blood and eager for its finish. You could feel those same soft, dark hairs matting down as your tears soaked into them. He ran his fingers through your hair, keeping the fallen strands out of your face, still holding you at your nape, but just to comfort you. 

You imagined him letting go, and you felt… sad, somehow. He would have to release you at some point, but you were in such a submissive state, just the idea of him leaving you without his guiding hand was too much to bear. 

Your cries turned to a twisted kind of grief, and when he heard your tone change, he dropped to the floor with you, holding you to his chest, rocking you back and forth, shushing you and talking to you in a hushed voice,

“Shh, baby. Tell me to stop. Tell me…”

You grasped at him wildly, uncontrolled, holding onto whatever part of him you could, shaking your head,

“No, no. Don’t — don’t let me go. Please, I can’t… I need… I need you to touch me.”

You planted one of your hands across his, covering the one that gripped your neck, pressing it like a plaster, like it was keeping a wound healed, like it was a dam in front of your frothing, vengeful river; it was a lifeline and you were adrift. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, “I’m not gonna let you go. I’m right here. Shh. Shh. It’s alright. I’m here. C’mon. Come with me.”

He lifted you, helping you walk on sore, shaking legs, your nerves sparking across your skin. Then, with his hand still firmly planted against your neck, he led you like a shepherd with his lamb, marching you to his bedroom. As you approached the bedframe, your thighs hit the mattress, and Price guided you forward until your body lay flat against it. The duvet was cool and smooth against your belly and breasts, and you tucked your arms into yourself, looking for warmth. 

You felt John plant gentle kisses across your back, trailing them down your spine, and after the overstimulation you had just gone through, even his lightest touch was electric. 

Your tears had stopped, but still you panted, sniffling, trembling from the shock of his careful kisses, waiting for whatever would come next. 

You felt his hips press against your exposed ass cheeks, his shorts now missing, and all you could sense was his warm, furry skin. You sighed into it, happy for the connection. 

“Spread your legs,” he commanded.

You complied immediately, all of your tortured resistance gone from you now, ready to trust him to take care of you. 

The unknown was what made your belly swarm with butterflies, and as you waited for his next move, your mind raced with possibilities. 

Would he be cruel? Would he punish you for your lying when he had first taken you in? His hand might strike your tender flesh, slapping your ass and leaving red, angry marks. 

Would he be lustful? Your mind fed you imaginary moments where he would press his cock into your pussy, skipping any foreplay, simply using you like his warm, wet toy. You thought that he wanted more, something more intimate, but if not, you would let him. You were his to use. At this point, you were so pliant, so open to his will, he could use you over and over and you would take him. It was a dark confidence you had never known until now. 

Perhaps he would simply stop. Maybe he perceived you as weak, as if you couldn’t take what he wanted to give you. He would simply comfort you, pitying you for your wrecked state. It was this thought that turned your stomach. Surely, he knew you better than that. John Price was not the pitying type. 

As the base of his cock lay nestled in the cleft of your ass, still as hard as a stone, his long shaft was shoved up against his lower abdomen, pulsing with unslaked desire. Then, as he settled himself, pleased with your spread display, John began to slip the very tips of his fingers into your pussy. He was just feeling your softness, plucking at your petals, laying them open with his hand, using your own wetness to paint your lips and the tight muscle of your hole, preparing you for more. 

His voice broke the trance that his touch had put you in, 

“It kills me when I have watch you putting yourself through hell. You are so strong, but you deserve to have everything you want. Everything you need, I’ll make sure you have it. I promise.”

He was so sincere, and his voice sounded so sure. It was like he was sharing an old memory, something he knew by heart. 

“John, please…” You whispered, feeling yourself slipping, slowly becoming untangled by his touch. You needed more, but you had no words. You could barely concentrate, and your mind was swimming in a liminal space, trapped in a loop of mounting bliss. 

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you felt your tears return, and although you were desperate for something, you couldn’t find the answer. 

“Shh, shh, shh. You’re alright,” John rubbed your back with his free hand, smoothing your skin with his warm touch, “Does my pretty girl need to come?”

You nodded, daring to glance over your shoulder at him as he worked on you, his finger now sinking deeper into you, gently prodding your walls in long, aching circles. His other fingers were cradling your folds, slipping between them with each undulating thrust, brushing beside the swelling body of your clit and making you throb with need. 

He felt it, and you saw a warm smile spread across his face,

“I can feel you needin’ me. So wet for me. Fightin’ me so bloody hard. Thought I’d be wantin’ you forever. Do you know how many nights I’ve dreamed of havin’ you under me like this? Fuck, I need you so badly, baby.”

You felt his grip tighten on your neck again as he pressed you deeper into the soft mattress, his prying hand picking up the pace. His thick finger finally slipped down to the knuckle of his fist. As he fucked you on his hand, you could hear your body’s slick as it softened for him, submitting to his power just as you had done, your body at peace with your mind. 

He pressed a second finger beside his first, twisting them together, curling the tips to rub you from the inside, making you feel the deep ache of your orgasm building within your belly. 

You tried to find more friction, rocking your hips against the bed, squeezing your legs together, needing more but completely helpless to his pace and pressure. 

Price stopped, pushing his fingers right into the tender flesh of your neck as a warning,

“Open,” he shoved your foot away, spreading them for you, “You keep fighting and fighting… fine. I’ll give you something to fight for, hm?”

You tried to twist your knees together again, but his legs stood apart, holding you open. Then, you felt his threat. He put the head of his heavy prick against your greedy hole, dipping it into your wetness like a seal into warm, melting wax.

“C’mon,” he squeezed your nape hard, once, just enough to get your attention, “You wanna drive? Fuckin’ drive, love. You think you can fuck yourself better than I can fuck you? Prove it.”

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at him, watching the muscles ripple and pop in his forearm that held you down, unwilling to give you full control, and yet allowing you to set the pace. You saw his other hand rub the curve of your hip, dropping lower to grope your ass, egging you on. 

Unwilling to beg, you thrust yourself down onto his shaft, gasping from his girth, only managing to fit half of him inside of you, physically unable to go any deeper on your own. But, you tried again, lifting away, sinking back, repeating your movements and reaching between your legs to rub your clit as you fucked him.

But, it wasn’t enough. You felt so close to the edge, and yet you couldn’t tumble over it, losing your rhythm, chasing it down, too weak to reach the peak you knew was right within your grasp. 

You grunted in frustration, and his cruel laugh made you turn back towards him again. 

He shrugged,

“I thought you wanted to be in charge. Does it feel good, sweetheart?”

“Fuck!” You gasped, trying to catch your pleasure and feeling it slip from you yet again, humping your hips against the bed shameless and desperate. 

“Tch,” Price gripped the inside of your ass cheek, shaking it and rolling your soft flesh in his hand, “Too bad, love. I wanted to give it to you. Shame, really.”

“John! Please,” you caved, sobbing out a short moan, begging him impatiently. 

“Please, what?” His question came just as he decided to press himself deeper into your body than you had been able to go, sinking into you like a hand into a glove, a tight, all-encompassing fit. 

You whined, rolling your fingers over your clit faster, feverish, ready for relief, 

“Please make me come.”

“You will come…” He stretched you, giving you no warning, the sharp feeling of his invasion making you catch your breath, “When I bloody tell you to.”

Then, as if to prove it to you, he stuffed his length into your pussy, never pulling back very far, choosing instead to massage you with his cock, using his base to stretch you wide before rolling away. The sensation overwhelmed you, and his size made your mind go blank. Any words that formed in your mind turned to whining cries of pleasure on your tongue.

There were no sounds of lewd pounding of flesh on flesh. All of Price’s work was deep and wet, churning inside of you like a volcanic sea, hot and untamed. He, however, made plenty of noise, praising you in every way he knew how, speaking in half-clipped phrases, losing his sentence to a groan of relief as he fed himself to you, filling your pussy like a hungry mouth. 

You felt yourself getting closer by the moment. Each grinding thrust was pushing you ever nearer to that gleaming, crackling fuse. He had lifted you, unintentionally, unable to understand the effect of his strength, and your toes could barely scrape the floor. You could feel your sacral core clenching around him like a delicate vice, grabbing for his cock, trying to hold him within your belly, some twisting grip of nature used to ensure that his creamy come ended up where it belonged, soaking into your womb.

Your clenching made him pause, which, in turn, caused you to cry out to him, wordlessly babbling, begging for him to return, to keep his pace. 

“Don’t you dare, sweetheart. Don’t you dare come,” his voice was like rattling brimstone, smoky and burning within his throat. 

“Please…” You whispered, unable to lift your raspy, keening voice. 

With shallow, teasing thrusts, Price used his cockhead to softly pop in and out of your soaked hole, swollen from being well-fucked. Just hearing a vibrator would have sent you over the edge at that point, and you fought him, trying to get any sort of power at all, rolling your body like a caught snake. 

“Stop,” he said curtly, “Stop fighting. Be still.”

You quieted yourself down, breathing heavy, sweating into his sheets, shivering like you had a fever, burning up from the inside out. 

For the first time, you felt his hand leave your neck, and his fingers twisted themselves into your hair at the base of your skull. Slowly, carefully, he lifted you by your head, forcing your back into a vicious arch, letting your breasts hang freely, your arms trying to balance you, mostly worthless since Price had full control of your torso in this position. 

His free hand slid around your front, groping you wildly, plucking your nipples and filling his palms with the meat of your breast. Then, he replaced your fingers with his own, pressing beside your sensitive clit, rolling it softly in long, firm strokes. 

You heard yourself make a new sound, one you’d never made, an animal’s grunting, something reckless and feral. 

Then, Price took up his stretching rhythm again, fully in charge of everything you were sensing. To you, he may as well have been in control of your mind. It was no use to you; you were at his mercy and it was everything you’d ever wanted. 

“Do you trust me?”

Your thoughts swam, unable to even consider anything but the truth, and amongst all of your vocalized ecstasy, you managed to reply,

“Yes.”

“Don’t come. Keep it. Just like that.”

“J-John!”

“Wait, wait, wait… good girl. Good.”

“Ohhh, fuck…”

His next words seemed barely human, snarled at you through bared teeth,

“Now. Come for me. Come f— fuck! Holy fuck.”

When you felt him spill into you, you had almost no control left over your own orgasm. Your heart felt like it had leapt into your throat, and all you could experience was your shining, explosive finish. You heard no sound, and your eyes went white, rolling back into your head. You couldn’t breathe, or scream, and if it wasn’t for John’s immense body holding you tight, you would have crashed into his bed, all used up.

His orgasm was as long as yours was, and he finished in slow, fearsome thrusts, burying his head into you as deep as he could reach, smearing your lips with your mixed fluids, caring nothing for the mess. 

“C’mere, love. Come to me,” Price held you to his chest, finally pulling himself from you, holding you as close as he could, laying beside you in a sweaty, spent tangle of arms and legs. 

You lay your head on his chest, catching your breath, only to tumble into a dreamless sleep with him, your body exhausted from your effort. 

When you woke up the next day, you could feel him all over you. He had left you alone in the bed, and yet your skin and bones kept his imprints. You could feel the ghost of his fingertips on your neck, and you were sore in places you weren’t sure how you could be. Everything was a wet mess, and just when you worried about how you’d cross the apartment without yesterday’s outfit, you saw that John had left you a note. 

Training day on base. I'll be back tonight. Dinner on me. Wear this. xx

Under the note, Price had laid out his favorite dress of yours, a blue satin slip of a thing, and (with the tags still on) you found a matching lace set of bra and panties in the same pretty color, just your size. You couldn’t see the price, but when you searched for the brand online, you couldn’t help but blush. He'd spent more than just a pretty penny on this outfit. You couldn't help but notice that the delicate lace would show through the thin fabric of the dress, making little raised ridges where your nipples would be.

Whatever you’d just agreed to when you said you’d let John Price into your life was about to get very, very interesting. 

AO3 Link

[starsofang]

Hi there. I wanted to make a request for something a bit personal. All this week, my family has been criticizing my weight (which I have struggled with my whole life) and told me point-blank that no one would ever love me because of it. That being said, I would like to request a writing with Soap. Let's say the reader has been avoiding sex with him for a while. They'll kiss and stuff, but as soon as he starts pulling her shirt up, she pulls it back down and makes some sort of excuse. This goes on for a while until Soap confronts her about it. She basically then goes off, pointing out all her bodily flaws and how fat and hideous she thinks she is and asks him how he could ever think she was sexy. And all he says is, “How can I NOT?” And he makes love to her and every time she makes a complaint about her body or calls herself ugly, she shushes her, ultimately taking her in front of a mirror and making her look at herself and how sexy she looks taking him. And when they're done, Soap should talk about how she's not fat, she's cute and squishy.

i just want you to know that you’re not defined by your weight, and you will absolutely find somebody who will love you no matter your appearance <3 i’m a big girl dating a fit man and he treats me wonderfully, despite many people bullying me for my weight and thinking he’s silly for dating a big girl. you will 100% find somebody like that who will love you for you, and your family is wrong about that <3 i’m sending you all my love anon!!!

i hope this is to your liking!!

tw: NSFW, MDNI, brief angst with fluffy smut :3

Johnny was the love of your life. There wasn’t a doubt about it in your mind that he was the one you’d spend the rest of your days with, growing old together, showered in each other’s unconditional love.

Lately, though, you were wondering if you were the love of his.

The reflection in the mirror every time you snuck a glance whispered nasty things to you. Hurtful and cruel, dousing you in doubtful insecurity, all geared towards the way you looked. It pointed out all of your soft rolls, the pudge of your stomach, the cellulite on your thighs.

Every time you came face to face with your reflection, it was a constant thought that plagued your mind of why Johnny wanted to be with somebody like you. Why he chose you.

Blinded by your own criticism, it began to take a toll on your relationship.

It started off small, like gently pushing him away with a forced laugh every time he’d come up behind you and rest his hands on your hips, kneading the flesh. Or, when he’d lay in bed at night with you, arm slung over your stomach, seeking out your touch in order to fall asleep, you’d roll to face away from him, fearful of Johnny feeling the softness of your body.

It was a bigger issue when sex became less frequent — not that Johnny minded if you weren’t in the mood. He respected you. But Johnny knew you far more than you thought he did, and he could see the tell-tale signs of you distancing yourself.

He noticed the way you shied away from him, brushing his hands off like you were scorched from his touch. Hiding away in oversized clothing, concealing any sliver of your body.

At first, Johnny didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to approach it, and he didn’t want to assume anything was wrong. Maybe you were having an off time!

It wasn’t until tonight, where he had you gracefully laid out in your bed, that he knew something was truly wrong.

The rough pads of his fingers slowly slid down to the hem of your shirt while his lips remained occupied against yours, carefully slipping the fabric up across your stomach. Almost instantly, your body tensed up, your own hands grasping hold of the end of your shirt to roughly tug it down, successfully covering yourself back up.

Johnny paused, pulling away from your kiss to peer down at you with a worried furrow in his brow.

“Bonnie,” he frowned. “What’s all this about?”

You busied your lip between your teeth, turning your head away in order to avoid seeing the ache in his eyes. You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to confirm your insecurities by telling you he saw what you saw in the mirror.

“Talk t’me,” he encouraged, gently guiding your head to look at him, thumb stroking along your cheek.

“I just—“ You sucked in a breath, before everything came spilling out at once. “I don’t want you to see me. I know I’m chubby, I know I’m not small. I don’t understand what you see in me.”

“Bonnie—“

“I don’t see why you love me when I look like this,” you finished, cutting him off. By the time you finished rambling, you had to catch your breath. A frown settled on your lips, and the sight of it caused Johnny to ache.

“How could I not?” Johnny breathed, voice so tender yet serious. He stared down at you, eyes flickering over your face, wanting so badly to smooth away the downward pull on your lips and furrow in your own eyebrows.

You said nothing, darting your eyes away to look at the ceiling instead of him.

“I love everythin’ about ye,” he continued, leaning down to press a subtle kiss to your cheek, moving down to your jaw, then your neck. “And I certainly love yer body. Do I have t’show ye myself?”

You finally glanced back to meet his gaze. He had a smile on his lips and a gleam in his eyes, one only reserved for you.

“C’mon,” he urged, pulling himself off of you and guiding you to sit up.

Once the two of you were standing, he quietly asked for permission to undress you. He noticed your hesitance so he waited patiently for you to answer, but once you told him yes, he happily obliged.

Johnny worked slowly to peel off every layer of your clothing until they were a heap on the floor at your feet. He took in the sight of you bare, smiling bashfully at the vision, burning it into memory.

He made quick work to undress himself to match your nudity, before sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging you to sit on his lap with your back pressed to his chest. His skin was warm against yours, but his hands were like a burning fire when he slipped them down your sides and to your thighs.

“I want ye t’look in the mirror, bonnie,” he said, nodding his head to the floor length mirror that sat perched up against the wall. When you looked into it, you had a perfect view of yourself in his lap. “How could I not love that?”

You squirmed awkwardly, unable to see what he was seeing. That little voice in the back of your mind still had control, and Johnny could tell. He was determined to rid yourself of it once and for all.

Despite wanting to resist, you continued looking in the mirror, taking in the sight of you on his lap, your thighs resting snugly over his own. Your eyes followed the way his hand slid from your thigh, going up and up until it reached between, lightly dragging through your cunt. His fingers shined almost instantly from your slick, and he took pleasure in coating himself in it further.

A shaky breath left your lips, warmth of arousal pooling in your abdomen. You’d never been able to see him touch you before, but now you have a full view of it. His fingers began circling your clit, while his free arm wrapped around your stomach, keeping you pressed up against him.

“Beautiful,” he murmured next to your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched with you.

Johnny began indulging himself in the wetness of your cunt, unable to look away from the sight of his fingers sliding between your clit and your hole. He always thought you were stunning, but seeing you like this was heavenly.

Two fingers slipped into you, and your mouth parted, throat catching on to a surprised gasp. He grinned at you in the reflection, taking in the way you wiggled at the intrusion.

“Look at ye,” he hummed, fucking into you at a gentle pace with his fingers. “Bloody gorgeous.”

Your gasps turned into whines, eyes glossing over with a clouded need. You watched hazily as his fingers slipped in and out of you, and for a brief moment, you agreed with him. The sight of you falling apart from his fingers was new, almost thrilling.

As much as Johnny wanted to see you come from just his hand, he needed you to see yourself in the way he saw you. Slipping his fingers out earned a whine of protest from you, but he quickly shushed you by lifting you off of his lap so he could line his hardened cock up to your sopping hole, sinking you down on it.

“Fuckin’ look at ye, bonnie,” he sighed, fingers digging into the fat of your hips, indenting into your softness. He guided you up, slowly dragging his cock along your gummy walls, before pulling you back down, your ass flush against his lap. “Ye look fuckin’ sexy like this. My pretty girl.”

Seeing the way your cunt greedily clenched around his cock, glistening prettily in the reflection of the mirror, you felt surprisingly attractive. The voice in your head was quieting down, instead being replaced with Johnny’s loving praises as he took you.

Your stomach and thighs jiggled with every bounce he made from his hands on your hips, but the look in his eyes was undoubtedly burning with intense desire, clouded over with admiration. You could see how enthralled he was from the sight of you and how much it turned him on.

“This is all mine,” he groaned, squeezing your hips before bringing one hand around to grab hold of your stomach. He did it in such a loving way that you no longer felt insecure, you no longer had the urge to push him away so you could hide your body from him.

Johnny was proving just how beautiful he thought you were while simultaneously making you see it for yourself. He wanted you to feel good about yourself, and it was working.

When he saw the doubtful look in your eyes dissipate into a more confident one, he picked up the pace, eager to bounce you on his cock and make a mess of you. He was determined to make you feel so good that you wouldn’t even remember why you were insecure in the first place.

“So fuckin’ good t’me, don’t even know how I got ye,” he grunted. The words showered you with warmth, filling you up and teetering you near the edge. “I’m a lucky bastard.”

You could feel the build up grow more intense, your moans uncontrollably slipping out. He continued to praise you, engulf you in his compliments, dripping with nothing but love and want.

It sent you over that edge, clenching around him and your breath getting caught in your throat. Just from that sight alone, reflecting back at Johnny from the mirror, he didn’t fall too far behind you, filling you with proof of his undying love and claiming you as his.

From the look of fucked out bliss on your face, he was sure he got the message through.

Cleaning you up and lying you on top him, he basked in the post clarity, hands massaging along your hips.

“I wish ye would’ve told me sooner, bonnie,” he murmured softly, lips pressed against the top of your head that rested on his bare chest. “There’s nothin’ wrong with yer body. I like it this way. Can squish it whenever I want.”

You laughed against him, propping your chin up so you could look at him. His eyes were soft combined with the goofy smile on his face. He looked like a man head over heels, and it was with you.

“If ye need a reminder again, I’ll be glad t’fuck you in front of the mirror as many times as ye need. Or ye can sit on my face so I can worship ye.”

“I might suffocate you if I do that,” you snorted in amusement.

“That’s the point, bonnie. Do I have t’show ye again that I don’t care? Suffocate me.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling a bright laugh from him. He tugged you closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to your head. He’d happily show you as many times as you needed, no matter how many hours it took. He’d die a happy man if it meant getting to see and feel your softness everyday.

[witchthewriter]

𝓢𝓱𝓲𝓹 𝓯𝓸𝓻 @night-girl-301.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐓𝐘

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑆𝑐𝑜𝑡𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑛, 𝐽𝑜ℎ𝑛𝑛𝑦 "𝑆��𝑎𝑝" 𝑀𝑎𝑐𝑇𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑠ℎ! I think he would absolutely love your extroverted nature; the way you don't mind the spotlight. Which makes it a lot easier for the both of you to have fun together.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Keeps a polaroid of you in his pocket; the one closest to his heart. Only takes it out when he's going on a mission - his worst fear is the enemy finding out about you

Your name saved in his phone is 'My Bonnie Lass', and likes to reread old messages before he goes to sleep.

The two of you have had MANY adventures, and when he tells Gaz about them (nonchalantly in conversation) it's almost as if the room falls quiet.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Scotland by the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra

(this is absolutely one of the most beautiful pieces of music I have ever heard. Without a doubt, when listening to this, it's how Johnny would feel whenever he returns to Scotland.)

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔 

More Alike Than Different

Fake Relationship Which Turns Into True Love

Would Die For Each Other

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Johnny loves how easily you can lighten his mood (even though he's always been the person to do that for others). It's taken a load off his shoulders, having you in his life. Johnny realised one day that his life was actually lacking. That there had been a piece missing, and bloody aye bonnie, it was you!

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅  

I'm not 100% sure if you know this character but I think you would be great friends with Keegan. Mysterious, funny and sarcastic, I think you two would have a chaotic brother / sister relationship. Soap knows this, but still gets jealous.

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑃𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑜 𝑀𝑎𝑥𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑓𝑓! Hell yeah, the fast boi. He would absolutely love teasing you; even before getting into a relationship, Pietro would flirt and do his best to make you blush. It drove you mad, but you did your best not to react. That was until Wanda made him see how much he actually did like you.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

One of the greatest things about having a speedy boyfriend, is that he can do things 100x quicker. Like clean - wash the dishes, do the laundry, vaccum. He does all this so you don't have to. You're his 'Princezná' (Princess).

You have matching rings - it's a promise ring, from him to you. Pietro gave you the ring (not quite a diamond, or too expensive) on your birthday, and then on his, you did the same.

One of the more protective significant others... he knows you can hold your own, but will not hesitate to step in when he feels like you've been disrespected.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

The Train by James Newton Howard

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔 

You Fell First, But They Fall Harder

Aggressively Supportive & Protective Of Each Other

Overly arrogant, flirty x Pretends To Be Unfazed, But Is Dying On The Inside

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

How you can keep up with him, and at times, he feels as though he cannot keep up with you. I'm not talking about physical speed here, but wit and humour and socialising. You create friendships wherever you go. People like you. And all Pietro can do is stare. Because you're the life of the party...and the light of his life.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅  

Your best friend would be Natasha - she would love your honesty, your knowledge and how fun you are. She would never say that to your face though. Your friendship is based on lightly teasing each other (Wanda calls it bullying and pouts unless you two say sorry ; even though no one was upset).

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑇𝑜𝑛𝑘𝑠! I think you two would start off as best friends and no matter how hard either of you would try to keep apart - you could never be able to. Almost like it was written in the stars, Tonks is the woman for you. Outgoing, bold, brave, loyal, determined - she's always by your side.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Tonks is the golden retriever girlfriend. She is excited to do ANYTHING with you and isn't afraid of looking like a fool either.

She can make you laugh even when you're in the deepest of dumps. Her presence is like laughter personified. And one of the best things is that she can change her appearance - into anything! You want a cuddle? Okay Tonks is turning into this HUGE bear!

Snores terribly loud though. A few times a week you have to shake her awake because she's snoring so loud. Only to realise she's somehow morphed into a lion's nose and that's why her snoring is louder than usual

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Lay All Your Love On Me by Pale Honey

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔 

"I've made a calculated decision." (Tonks) x "You can't do math?" (You)

Chaotic Dumbass (You) x Enthusiastic Dumbass (Tonks)

The Sarcastic Duo That Can Finish Each Other's Insults 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

You never make her feel weird, or like she has to entertain you to keep you around. You help her see her worth (most of the time without meaning to). She feels like you're soulmates, and has actually researched about the topic secretly, wanting to know if there's any truth to it.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅  

George Weasley - he never fails to make you laugh, but also listen to you when you need it. He's the calmer, more mature version of Fred. And you were drawn to his demeanour, almost romantically at first. But you both decided that being friends would be a lot better. And turns out, you were both right.

[killerkillerkillher]

A/B/O HEADCANNONS w/ 141

Hi. Okay so I was sitting here thinking about cod and fandoms and stuff, right? And how there's a natural sort of timeline that plays out with anything that gets popular, ei. Shipping, cafe au, cross overs and whatnot. I've seen it all in the mw2 fandom so far except... omegaverse. So here. I might not be the first but I will not be the last. Cheers.

Warning: nothing really. Very brief mention of ghost's past but no real details. There is pining but options are gave to keep it all platonic. Sfw. Sorry for any mistakes.

They/them reader pronouns. Call sign is Winter.

PRICE

● definitely an alpha.

● he's passive for the most part and doesn't let his biology get in the way of his work.

● he would be someone that omegas are 100% okay hanging around with not matter the circumstances. Their heat is coming and they need aid finding shelter? He will be there to help and the omega doesn't have to worry about getting taken advantage of. Someone is bullying them? He'll nip that behavior in the bud immediately.

● is not alpha aggressive. That means that he doesn't pick fights with other alpha's just because. He is self assured and knows that his position as captain in is no danger.

● I can imagine he would just have that crisp, cool autumn morning smell if that makes sense. Like one of those days you would go out and just step on all the crunchy leaves on the sidewalk. Maybe a little nutty.

● the base knows when he's in rut when he starts going soft on some people. And by some people I mean you.

● "I didn't see you in the mess, Winter. Did you eat yet?"

● "Hm? Oh, no, Captain. I'll go later, I need to keep reading these papers."

● "Those can wait. Let's go get you diner."

● "But Captain..."

● "No but's. Can't have one of my best skipping meals."

● no matter what your secondary gender would be, he would dote on you. If you aren't in a relationship, this would be an indirect admission of his feelings.

● if you're already with someone (and not accepting additional partners), he would watch himself. There would be lots of fleeting glances and pulled back touches.

● he thinks the fact that some alphas actually growl is crazy. Would not be able to take someone seriously if they did so at him.

● doesn't restrict his scent or anything. It's generally not overbearing and people have said they find comfort in it.

GAZ

● honestly, I'm a little torn with Gaz. In my soul of souls, he's giving beta. But another part of me is saying alpha :/

● he could be either, but I'll write him as an alpha for now.

● he's similar to Price to be honest. He's quite passive, but not to such an extent.

● another man that omegas would feel safe with. He wouldn't really see it until he starts noticing that a lot of the lower ranking omega soldiers confide with him often. Definitely makes note of any reoccurring issues he hears and reports them to Price.

● won't start fights, but will end them if someone bothers him enough. He prefers to use words to end conflict but he'll take someone in a sparring match if he thinks it's necessary.

● smells very oaky, maybe mixed with some eucalyptus. He definitely has a relaxing smell, making him is the best cuddle contender on this list.

● his rut is a whole other story. He is also noticeably different.

● not aggressive or anything, but he'll get slightly more closed off, more serious. Soap isn't able to get as many laughs out of him during this time, but Gaz will still hang out with him.

● definitely worries about you more than he usually would.

● "Ouch!"

● "Hey, what happened? Let me see."

● "It's nothing, just a paper cut."

● "Jesus, you're bleeding. We need to go get a band-aid before it gets infected."

● "Huh? GazーGaz, its just a little cut."

● "And it could get way worse. Come on."

● His coddling won't be a confession, he'd probably just out right tell you. Not on purpose though. Those hormones will have him making some personal rash decisions and it'll slip out if he thinks you're being particularly alluring.

● not into him or you're taken? He'll avoid you to make sure he doesn't make any slips. If you ask about it he'll just tell you that he's just going through the motions of rut.

● Used to do the silly growling when he was a teen. Reality hit him once he was out of school that it was not sexy. Atleast, not the way he was doing it.

● if he let's a growl out anywhere near Soap or the captain? It's over for him. They will not let him live it down.

● covers his scent glands with patches to dampen his scent to make others more comfortable :)

SOAP

● another person I struggled with. I was stuck between omega and beta for a hot minute, however I have come to a conclusion.

● he's an omega (please don't kill me)

● Years in the military has given him a lot of practice when handling alphas, specifically, lower ranking ones.

● they get jealous, or viciously angry about having to take orders from an omega, and so he's had to put up with more than he'd like to say.

● would happily step into the ring with anyone who questions his integrity. He's quick to prove that he's where he is today because of his skills, and that his body does nothing to interfere with that.

● has forced himself to override his instincts when it comes to smells and alphas and whatnot. Probably struggled with it a lot when he was younger and got into somethings he shouldn't have. Learned from his mistakes and has tried to improve his restraint.

● Smells really earthy. Have you ever laid down on slightly wet grass and just got a whiff? That. And cotton.

● Heats for him aren't terrible. He will be a little needier, a little more talkative. You'll find him in his bed more often, curled in some spare blankets and entertaining himself on his phone.

● he's able to power through it on assignments if he needs to.

● I think of heats almost like periods? If ppl with periods can get though it (they shouldn't have to but you know) without getting the care and treatment that they should, then omegas could as well. Soap would definitely pop a few painkillers and keep trucking.

● expect for him to want you around A LOT.

● "Winter, here. Come closer. Closer."

● "I get any closer and I'll be in your bed."

● "I know. That's the point."

● You're his designated cuddle buddy. Prepare to be the big spoon because he will shamelessly ask you to be. Not a cuddler? Then maybe you'll at least hold his hand. He just craves that contact.

● let's say you're taken and/or not comfortable with that. He'd find solace in his pillow, or if Ghost doesn't mind, he'll ask him. Asking Ghost only has a 40% success rate, however.

● growls as a joke, but thinks it's actually very stupid. Has had people growl at him to be aggressive or sexy but he just ended up laughing them off.

● patches over his scent glands for his own sanity.

GHOST

● was split between alpha and omega. I obviously found a conclusion. Please do not kill me (again).

● So, I think he was born an alpha, but the environment he grew up in was so stressful that it caused his body to adapt into something that it thought would increase his survival chances.

● and so, he presented earlier than most as an alpha, but was put under so much pressure by his father that most would not have to endure at that age. The stress caused a hormone imbalance that lead to permanent damage to his body.

● thus, making him virtually an omega. (I would love to build on this concept more in the future)

● it's a rare phenomenon, but it can happen.

● is absolutely aggressive towards alphas he doesn't have familiarity with. He's probably even wary of betas as well dispite their general lack of danger.

● Price and Gaz are completely fine in his books. You are too if you're an alpha.

● no one picks fights with this man unless they want to get hurt, because that's the only viable conclusion.

● he's made a point that he is not to be fucked with, he doesn't not care who you are. Alpha's will have to bite their tongues and listen when orders leave his mouth.

● his smell is probably confusing. Like antifreeze and smoke. Sweet and musky. An odd mix.

● his heats are odd as well.

● he'll be damned if anyone catches him lacking. You will not be able to tell he's in heat because he'll be on a near lethal amount of hormone stabilizers and his neck will be matted with gland patches.

● but he's still human. Sometimes his shell will crack and he'll look for you. You'll know something's up when he asks to borrow a piece of clothing very casually.

● "Hey, Ghost. What's up?"

● "Think I can use one of your jumpers? Mines in the wash."

●"...? Yeah, sure. I think I have one that should fit you. It'll probably stink of me, though. Sorry about that."

● "'t's fine."

● jokes on you, that's why he wants it.

● using your clothes let's him relax and ride the motions of his heat with more comfort. It also helps him keep it private. Might wear the sweater to sleep or stuff it under his pillow.

● nothing of yours can be used? That's fine. He'll suffer in silence tbh. I can't imagine he has a nice, healthy list of coping mechanisms.

● growls, but intimately. Like a purring cat. It's rare, but it'll happen. If you point it out he will deny it until he dies. Don't expect to hear it again for a long time.

● most people think he's a beta because his scent is so muted. He does everything in his power to prevent anyone from finding out he's an omega.

[astradreaming]

Hey^^, so I read your dad ghost x daughter reader, and I really enjoyed it, so I wanted to ask if you could write general headcannons for x daughter reader. It doesn't have to be ghost specifically if you'd rather write for someone else.

hii :D I did all of 141 so apologies that it took so long :) ♡ Hope you enjoy it! Have a good day/night lovely's ♡

masterlist

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

I am 100% biased but he'd be the best dad ever. (even if in the beginning he didn't believe it)

Definitely got closer to you as you grew up, like from the age of about five he became your bodyguard/buddy but before that, he just saw you as this small fragile thing that would break if he moved the wrong way. It wasn't until you'd come back inside from playing with a bloody knee from scraping the pavement saying how you hoped you'd get a 'cool scar like daddy's ones' did he realize you were your own little person now.

He'd teach you everything he could, how to defend yourself, football (soccer), anything and everything he could.

He'd be so gentle even after you'd grown up. He wants to shield you from the world, from the bad in it. 100% did everything he wished his father would have.

He'd be so overprotective for your whole life doesn't matter if your five or 25 he's still by your side being 'scary dog privilege' aka scaring anyone in your general field of view.

He'd never let you have boys over.

If he did let them study (BIG IF), he'd be there lurking around the living room (where he'd force you to stay). I'd be very surprised if any boy stayed longer than 20 minutes before backing out even if you were just friends Ghost is just too scary. If however, a boy can deal with the death glares and snarky mumbles, Simon didn't know whether to have slight respect or even more worried. 'Damn kids got balls... the fuck am I gonna do now, that usually works'. 😧🤺🤺

I can imagine how if you got into trouble for standing up to some bullies (totally not based on a story I'm currently making👀) where the headmaster had to call Simon in it'd be hilarious. A squeaky old headmaster ranting about the rules you broke to a 6'4 military man who didn't see anything wrong with what you did.

100% if you got in a fight he'd be the 'who won?' parent.

John 'Soap' MacTavish:

Soap, your dad? Nah that's your best friend.

He's the dad who just can not remember any of your friends. 'Oh hi, nice to meet you!😁' 'Dad you've met them before. We've been friends for the last 5 years🤨' 'Oh. Really?'

When you were little he got you both matching outfits <3

He goes all out on every holiday no matter what. Decorates the house, buys all the food for the holiday, dresses up every time, and forces you to join him.

He's the dad that is SO easy to talk to about absolutely anything. Even if it's something you're not allowed to do; if you had a crush and wanted him to drive you to the movies if you sneak out and have no ride home. If you called him, he doesn't care whether it's 6pm or 4am he's picking you up and getting food on the way home.

Personally, I think he's a very chill dad if he knows/ finds out you're doing something he told you not to, he just settles with the fact that you felt comfortable enough to tell him anyway. Tries to prioritize your relationship with him rather than being the 'normal' strict parent.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

I imagine Dad!Gaz was a young single dad, who barely knew what he was doing.

He'd be the guy to call his mother/sister/grandmother 24/7 asking 'hey uh she rolled over in bed idfk if that means something!?!?' at like 3am

he'd be SO worried about you as a baby, something that fragile... he definitely had nightmares about dropping you or sum.

He 100% is the type to record EVERYTHING his little girl does, showing them to the team.

When she's a teenager, he definitely acts more like a best friend than a dad,

however, if you're having trouble at school with bullies or someone breaks your heart, it's scary how quick he can turn from bestie 🤪✌️ to Sergeant Kyle Gaz Garrick 👺💪.

Will support you on ANYTHING. That man is on your side, no doubt. Want to take ballet classes? he'll pay sweetie. Want to play a sport instead? He'll be there watching as much as he can. Failing classes? He's right next to you trying to help. Want to drop out? He'll help you look for a first job. Whatever it is, he's there with you<3

Captain John Price:

100% gave you some of his beer or bourbon to try when you were like 8 years old, 'aye you asked for some, didn't say it was gonna be good.'

Very sweet dad tho. Makes sure you have everything you need. Whether it be your favorite snacks while doing the shopping or making sure that one stain is out of your favorite sweater.

Sucks at helping you with your homework. 'What do you mean that's not how you do it anymore? How can they change math?'

Will accidentally make you cry trying to help understand math questions... you know what I'm talking about.

Learns all your best friends' names, is the best host for having a sleepover (all your friends always want to stay at your place). Has snacks for you all, always gets takeout for you and your friends, lets you stay up if y'all wanted to, 'your fault if you all feel like shit in the morning'. Makes waffles in the morning (or pancakes if ur lame 😒)

Protective over you with boys but not nearly as much as Ghost. He'd give you the least awkward sex talk than all the others. 'just remember I was your age once too- Haha yes a long time ago.'

Would definitely show you off to Laswell showing her all the 'facebook mom' photos he'd taken of you.

[wedonttalkaboutthisbro]

Gareth Emmerson hc’s (sfw, some x gn reader)

I'm ngl, this is my first time writing on this app LMFAO so if it's terrible or the layout isn't good lmk! (please give suggestions I'm screaming and crying)

General Headcannons:

LOVES sour candy.  Honestly, he would probably sell his soul for some sour patch kids.

His father wasn’t there for him much as a child so he basically taught himself most of the ‘Handyman’ things that he knows.

On that note, he has probably once or twice tried to fix something like the bathroom sink and completely failed. So when his mom called the plumber he was so embarrassed about it.

100% cries when he eats something too spicy.

A huge sucker for romance movies. Specifically RomComs but he’d rather die than let anyone (but you) know that.

Master of puppy dog eyes. One peek at him looking up at you with his wide eyes and cute little pout and you’re(or legit anyone for that matter) done for.

He has two younger sisters and one older sister. 

Well educated on periods and childbirth.

Adding on to that, he’s very good with kids.

He collects can tabs considering the fact that he’s mildly (or not so mildly) addicted to Dr. Pepper. 

Used to get bullied as a child for his looks.

Going off of that, he’s insecure about his looks. (REASSURE HIM THAT HE’S PERFECT)

Cringes at the smallest things.(LMAO me too bro)

Got his eyebrow pierced at like 13. He loved it for the first few months then out of the blue decided he hated it and took it out.

Hates blue cheese 

Feminist

He has Adhd, my man can’t sit still. He’s always moving, tapping his fingers on his desk to some unknown beat, bouncing his knee. The list goes on.

 Protective big brother energy.

Likes cats more than dogs, he claims it’s because they’re calmer.

He has really warm hands, they’re so soft and so big and so so warm.

Really sensitive skin, can only use certain soaps.

Drools in his sleep. As well as drooling he has some gnarly bed head. 

Looks up to most of his male teachers like a son would look up to his father.

Dad friend.

Relationship hc’s: 

Admires you from afar, he gets really shy around you so he’ll just watch and swoon from a distance.

He would love everything about you, from every freckle to every strand of hair. He would basically worship your existence.

Hates it when his club members touch his hair. But he loves it when YOU do, only you. Only ever you.

 He falls asleep at night dreaming about a family with you. (It helps him sleep very well LOL)

Very much a simp (It’s giving Ray from Princess and The Frog)

Super romantic and lovey dovey.

Isn’t too fond of pda but he will hold your hand under the table and kiss your cheek when he’s leaving the room.

Considering the fact that he has three sisters,(If you’re AFAB) he’d be so tentative to you when you’re on your period. Pulling out all of the shots, food? heating pads? cuddles? He has them whenever you want them. (especially cuddles!!!)

Writes cute love poems but never shows you. (Lowkey want to make this a whole one-shot like where you find them. Lmk if you want that LOL)

Lets you drink some of his Dr.Pepper at lunch. (oOoo so privileged!)

Sucker for dorky pickup lines.

“Are you angry at me?” “No? Why?” “You haven’t looked at me once in the past 3 minutes” type shit

Nightly ‘goodnight’ phone calls.

Whines about having to sleep without you in his bed, over the phone call.

Forehead kisses!!!

You’d be his first s/o and he loves and admires you so so much.

Kiss all over his face and hear his sweet little giggles. (I’m crying it’s so cute)

If you ever end up going to the beach with this man, give him a shovel. He’ll be busy allllllll day. He’ll dig a huge hole and look up at you with pure excitement in his eyes. He’d be so proud of himself. 

Nicknames like: Sugar, Honey, Darling(darlin’), baby, Doll, prince/princess(If you’re comfortable with those)

Loves when you wear his clothes or sleep in his bed!!! He loves your smell lingering on his stuff.

Definitely believes in love at first sight but he would NEVER admit it.

Drive-in dates, small cheap greasy diner dates.

Would 178% teach you the drums if you asked.

His love languages are psychical touch and gift giving.

Wants kids in the future.

[eisforeidolon]

Mind if I vent out a little? I came across a big discussion among some pro-jared blogs where they assume everyone else of spn set kind of conspired against jared always, tried to bully and torture him, happy when he was hurt. (Something along these lines) Like Jared was constantly tortured and wanted to get out ASAP but could not because of the pressure bla bla bla... And I don't get it. I know spn set in reality cannot be a dreamland like the actors present it to be, politics and favouritism might exist, also it's not unnatural for some actors holding a grudge towards the most successful one... But while reading their theories it felt like I am reading a script of a daily soap where jared is the poor victim of everything. I don't think Jared as that weak to not stand for himself or baby enough not to understand people are doing wrong to him. I mean he might act like a dork in public but he is quite smart and has a personality. This kind of posts look demeaning to his intellect. I understand Jared is the one who gets the most hate, but it's from the online fandom half of which is psycho. Why I have to assume the people with whom he used to work for a long time are same type of assholes? I know I should just ignore these and focus on the good stuff. But I love some of these blogs, and when looking out for contents I find these 'logical' theories it feels extremely frustrating.

I don't mind, and yeah, I've seen that, too.

In Stanland, there's not just a competition to twist yourself into Gordian knots to prove your fave is the most successful ever to success, good at everything they try and best loved by everyone? But also to prove your fave is the most helpless abused marshmallow woobie that NEEDS a stan protection squad for their own good because they're constantly maligned and taken advantage of by everyone but you, their Heroic Internet Defender! You'd think those would be obviously contradictory premises, but ...

It's relatively understandable when liking the actor turns into defending the actor from hate, and even to some degree from just negative opinions. It's ultimately pretty futile when trolls gonna troll, but the impulse isn't that unfathomable. Except for some, stewing in that negativity seems to inevitably turn into needing to "fight back" against "insults" they've zealously interpreted out of literally anything that's not 100% unmitigated praise for their fave and their fave alone. I don't know if it's some kind of victimization fetish, absurd over-identification leading to hypersensitivity, or what. As you point out, it's actually deeply insulting to the actor. Implying that they're too dimwitted to know when they're being insulted. Too spineless to use the power the stans are usually so busy crowing about them having. Too weak and needy to decide who should be in their own lives.

The thing is, you dig down into the Jensen and Misha stans, you find the exact same nonsense. "My fave was the real one true star of the show ... who also was completely slighted by the writers and totally abused by everyone on set!" The stans just each convince themselves that their abused woobie conspiracy theories are true and valid unlike the other stans' because ... reasons.

[thegracelessfaceless]

*slithers in*

Can I request some Helen headcanons? Just like general dating him and maybe some nsfw if possible.

@mutat-ad-astra , ₐᄂᵣᵢg𝓱𝚝 yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ 𝚍ₒ𝚗ₑ ᵢ𝚝 𝚗ₒw. ᵢ'ᵥₑ 𝚋ₑ𝚌ₒᗰₑ ₐ 𝘴ᵢᗰ𝐩 fₒᵣ Hₑᄂₑ𝚗 . W𝓱ₐ𝚝 𝚍ₒ yₒᵤ 𝓱ₐᵥₑ 𝚝ₒ 𝘴ₐy fₒᵣ yₒᵤᵣ𝘴ₑᄂf??

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

ꇙꄲ ꇙ꒐ꋊꉔꏂ ꓄ꁝ꒐ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꉔꋬꂵꏂ ꄲ꒤꓄ ꇙꄲ ꒒ꄲꋊꍌ, ꒐'ꂵ ꍌꄲ꒐ꋊꍌ ꓄ꄲ ꅐꋪ꒐꓄ꏂ ꋬꋊ꒯ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꁝꏂ꒒ꏂꋊ'ꇙ ꋊꇙꊰꅐ ꒐ꋊ ꒐꓄ꇙ ꄲꅐꋊ, ꍌ꒒ꄲꋪ꒐ꄲ꒤ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ❤

ᕼᗴᒪᗴᑎ ᗝ丅Ꭵᔕ/ᗷᒪᗝᗝᗪƳ ᑭᗩᎥᑎ丅ᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᒪᗩ丅ᎥᗝᑎᔕᕼᎥᑭ ᕼᗴᗩᗪᑕᗩᑎᗝᑎᔕ

(With a fem!SO)

♡Let's just get canon out of the way real quick.

♡Helen is very calm and quiet

♡He isn't very expressive and doesn't speak much, but when he does, he's always the picture of the perfect gentleman.

♡If something doesn't concern him, Helen is pretty apathetic towards it. However, if it's something he cares about, Helen will be very passionate.

♡His parents treated him as a pet or toy, and this caused Helen to have repression issues.

♡He won't show emotion towards a person unless they show emotion first, then he will reciprocate. This is essential to remember as Helen's significant other; you'll have to make the first move every time.

♡Helen's a Libra. His birthday is October 1st

♡Helen's parents were so excited when they found out they were going to be parents. That night, Helen's mother dreamed that she had a beautiful baby girl with delicate features, the deepest blue eyes that she had ever seen, and coal black hair so fine that it looked like dark lace against the baby girl's alabaster skin. She woke up certain that she was pregnant with a baby girl that looked just like in her dream. Mrs. Otis went into labor and delivered a baby that indeed looked just like in her dream, but it was a boy. So they decided to continue on and name him Helen, and raise him as they would a little girl.

♡This treatment continued until he started school at six. Then his parents decided to dress him as and refer to him as a boy in order to not draw attention.

♡Helen still suffers from body dysphoria because of this. For a long time, Helen couldn't reconcile whether he was male or female in his mind, so he existed in a chaotic state of one, the other, both and neither all at the same time. Now- after years of therapy, and a great deal of time building his trust with Reader, Helen identifies as agender preferring he/they/it pronouns and a refined but masculine aesthetic.

♡Reader is the only person allowed to call him Helen. And even she doesn't do it often, only when she's serious. He prefers Reader to call him darling, love, honey, dear, and, if he's feeling frisky, Sir 😍. All others may refer to him by his surname, Otis.

♡Helen can be quite manipulative and his intelligence is obvious

♡While in "working" mode, Helen is very cautious of the scene he his creating, and presents every body as if it were a canvas to bear his work.

♡His fascination with blood stems from his childhood. He had always had trouble making friends, only managing one at a time and spaced distantly apart. His only childhood friend had been murdered by bullies in the park, rocks thrown at him for being friends with that "weird sissyboy kid" until one struck his temple, killing him instantly. The bullies had hurriedly buried his friend in the deep snow from the night before. Helen knew this, he had told you, because he had watched it all from his perch in a tree. After the bullies had fled, Helen had uncovered his friend and stared at his body lying in red stained snow, and the bullies later blamed Helen with his friends death. Ultimately, he had been cleared, as there had been a witness in the park.

♡The false accusations of murder didn't stop there, much to your displeasure.

♡In high school, a classmate of Helen's, one who happened to be Helen's only friend, fell from the building and died. A witness said that Helen had killed him, but no concrete evidence was found.

♡Not to say that Helen is an angel. You know he's far from that, too.

♡Later, the same year, as a freshman at university, Helen killed 17 people from his dorm building, and wounded 5 on Devil's Night (October 30th).

♡Helen was found insane by the courts as a minor and received 6 years of inpatient treatment before being released back into society.

♡He started "his work" again three years later, and then met you two years after that.

♡Helen smokes cigarettes (though not as much as Tim) and unwinds after "work" with music and a rum and Coke or whisky on the rocks.

♡Helen enjoys lofi hiphop; classical music; instrumental and instrumental covers of songs; music from the early 1960's like: Frankie Valli, The Big Bopper, the Animals, and the Zombies; and indie rock like The Flaming Lips, Harvey Danger, Dinosaur Jr, and The Smashing Pumpkins.

♡He loves discovering new music with you, listening to playlists you make him for hours. But you're gonna listen to some of his music, too and he makes playlists for you to play according to mood.

♡Helen's love languages are: quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. But the love languages he craves are: all of them except receiving gifts! Getting a gift is uncomfortable for Helen, especially if he has no gift to give back. He wants you to feel just as appreciated as you feel, if not more.

♡Helen thought that he was completely asexual before he met you. No one he had met had ever... Moved him in that way. And he was fine with that. Why should he mourn something he'd never even wanted?

♡And then he met you at an antique art showcase of pieces by and inspired by René Magritte. (Example here: ◎▼◎) After you spent hours together at the show, exchanging witty banter, and eventually, phone numbers, Helen found himself thinking about you that night, alone in bed. And then his mind wondered something it had never thought about anyone else. He wondered what you looked like naked. What your skin would feel like. How would you taste?

♡He frowned to himself, confused by the foreign thought for a moment before he realized that he felt sexual desire for you.

♡It still took him a long while of dating you before he felt comfortable enough to even kiss you in a sexual way. The two of you were practically engaged when he gave you his virginity.

♡Bonus wholesome content headcanon/drabble: Once you convinced Helen to bleach his naturally blue black hair. Not wanting to disappoint you, and telling himself that it was just hair, he consented and you happily set to work. An hour later, he emerged from the shower with a shock of platinum white hair 😱. He had to support himself with a hand on the back of the couch because his knees started shaking when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror over the fireplace. A long, thin fingered hand with a fine tremor lifted to cover his mouth. You knew without him telling you that he absolutely, 100%, no doubt, undisputedly hated it. His already porcelain skin had paled even more, now trembling chalk instead of bone China. His midnight blue eyes held a sort of flinching terror in them as they tried to look anywhere but the vicinity of the mantle mirror. You approached him gently and pulled the towel thrown around his shoulders loose and used his shoulder to balance you as you went up on tiptoe to finish drying his now shockingly white hair.

♡You leave Helen waiting shirtless in the living room to deal with putting his shoes and socks on and you pull on a light jacket to guard against the chill that manages to never be around when we need it during the daytime hours as you enter yours and Helen's shared bedroom. You find Helen a clean black tee shirt and pick up one of your beanies from the coatrack behind the bedroom door. This one was black with a tree frog leaping over the words Frog Leap Studios done in a typewriter font in white thread, a circle of bright blue making the frogs eye stand out.

♡You take the shirt and beanie to Helen and he pulls the shirt on. You feel a little sad that he's covering up, but there would be time to enjoy his body later. Helen sits on the couch so you can slip the beanie over his baby fine hair easier than going up on tiptoe to match his 6'2" lean frame. The bleach may have stolen its darkness, but it couldn't steal its softness. Helen's hair was probably the softest thing you'd ever touched.

♡Hair sufficiently covered, you and Helen get into your car and head to the only place open at the hour of 3:24 in the morning. Walmart. Your sleep schedule had never been normal and Helen didn't help you normalize it at all. In fact, if anything it had gotten worse, the two of you wrapped up in your own hyperfixations, leaned up against each other back to back, or one of you holding the other as one of you writes while the other draws.

♡You feel Helen's hand find your thigh and squeeze it, letting you know he's not upset with you. You reached down and covered his hand with yours, returning the squeeze and you finish out the short ride more relaxed now that you know Helen isn't mad at you. Helen follows you to the beauty section once you're inside the store. He patiently watches as you pick out boxes from 4 different companies.

♡An amused Helen watches you as you quibble with the four boxes. You shuffle through them, running through them over and over like a person considering their hand while playing cards.

♡You end up with him bending down slightly again so you can compare the dyes to his eyebrows. He thinks it's the sweetest thing that you're going through such a clear effort to fix his hair. Obviously you feel responsible for the mistake and he hates that.

♡Gently taking the boxes from your hands, he picks a random red and black one from the four you were debating between and puts the rest back on the shelf.

♡Then Helen pulls you into his arms and holds you tight and close, burying a kiss on top of your head. You smile into his chest, breathing in the scent of paint, paint thinner, lavender shampoo, and jasmine soap. On anyone else, the paint thinner smell would have made you sick. But on Helen, it just smelled like home. You two stay in your embrace, Helen swaying slightly to a beat only he could hear. A stolen moment, a stolen dance, to help ground yourselves.

♡Helen broke the hug after a few moments more, but kept hold of your hand. You walk to the checkout line and pay almost $10 for the dye. The price gave you a mild case of sticker shock, but you shook it off and smiled at the older cashier, who was beaming as her eyes moved between you and Helen. The two of you seemed to get that reaction from older people. That look of pure hope that more people got to experience the love that shone between you. You both thank the cashier repeatedly as Helen payed her the money needed.

"You two have a good night" she smiled at us, "the world needs more couples that look at each other the way you do. You look, at each other like you're reach others entire worlds."

"She is" Helen says softly, pulling me into a hug and a quick kiss, "She's my whole universe."

♡You're pretty certain that the woman's smile could not get bigger. But you didn't really want to find out, since you were starting to notice that her teeth were huge and you were starting to get squicked out by it. Helen must have picked up on your discomfort because he led you away in the protective half circle of his arm.

♡"My knight in shining armor" you croon at him as you walk back to the car, "Thank you for saving me. I am forever in your debt. However could I repay you, Sir?"

♡Helen took in a sharp breath and chuckled as he slowly let it out, "I can think of a few things."

♡"You'll have to show me when you have the time" I teased as Helen opened your car door for me. He'd taught you that chivalry was not dead, and you'd realized that it would be easier to let Helen be a gentleman than it would be to convince him that you could open your own doors.

♡You drove home and locked the doors behind you. You headed straight for the bathroom and Helen borrowed a stool from the island bar to sit on so you could reach all of his head.

♡Twenty minutes later, you threw dye covered vinyl gloves in the trash and settled an old towel around Helen's shoulders and neck to keep the dye from dripping on him. You'd clipped a pillowcase over his hair and you had just finished hitting the dye with heat to assure his hair took the dye well, absorbed it.

♡Helen smiled contentedly up at you from his spot on the stool.

♡You tilted his chin up to kiss him. He kissed you back and then sent soft kisses across your cheek and jawbone, and then kissed and nipped down your neck. Helen focused his kisses back on your lips, kissing you like the kisses would magically cure everything, would keep you alive.

♡The timer you'd set so Helen would know when to wash the dye out of his hair went off, and Helen stood

♡Having already taken off his shirt, Helen unfastened his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them as they pooled around his feet, leaving him completely nude, comfortable.

♡instead of getting in the shower, Helen pulled you closer to the shower and used his nimble hands to liberate you of your clothes. Before you could protest, or even decide if ypu wanted to get in, Helen had pulled you under the spray of the shower and he stood in it now, extra dye streaming in lines

♡You turned Helen's back to you and massaged his scalp as the water rinsed the excess dye down the drain. When the water ran clear, you massaged some of the color protect conditioner that came with the dye and Helen switched places with you, his hands never leaving your hips so he could catch you if you slipped.

♡Helen washes your back for you and then your hair, lathering up a clean washcloth with jasmine soap and making sure not to miss a spot. Then he rubbed some lavender scented shampoo into my hair. Then he rinsed it and repeated the process before leaving some conditioner to sit in my hair.

♡Finally Helen worked some conditioner into your hair that matched the shampoo. You help Helen rinse everything from his hair and you condition his hair with the rest of the conditioner that came with the dye.

♡Showers with Helen always end up with him bathing you, his hands and keen eye not missing a single millimeter of your skin. Showers rarely turned sexual between the two of you, instead the two of you focused on the intimacy of showering together.

♡After all the soap and hair products are rinsed from both of you, Helen turned off the water and wrapped you in warm towels, quickly drying himself off and slinging a towel around his hips.

♡Helen obviously felt better once his hair was back to its natural inky darkness.

♡You could tell from the mischievous grin he wore as he escorted you to the bedroom.

AN: so I wrote on this well into the night... Fell asleep in the process a few times 😅. If you see continuity issues with the POV, let me know so I can fix it. I kept wanting to write in first person 😂

[slytherinsnekxvii]

let's talk about lily evans. she's an interesting character—or rather, the case surrounding her character is quite interesting.

i honestly don't know if i can say i dislike her. by all means, she should be a fan favourite, and she is... but for some rather intriguing reasons.

for one thing, due to the fact she's hardly expanded on in the series, certain parts of the fandom have been forced to either take the few qualities that she displays canonically and amplify them to the extreme (eg. immediate righteous anger at the slightest hint of injustice in fic) or create an entirely new personality (eg. no, i didn't actually disapprove of your pranks, it was just sexual tension). of course, the option of creating a new personality is much more tempting when you can just add amplified canon traits on the side.

for another, her relationship with james sometimes seems likes it's being weaponized against snape and his fans. i've seen arguments that go like "haha, snape just wanted to fuck lily, but james got her in the end anyway, sucks to be you", and not only does it entirely reduce her to an object, it feels like they don't even care about the relationship, the dynamics or the characters. she's basically a plot device.

and thirdly, half of her characterisation in fic is to be a peter stand-in. we don't like the rat man, so let's take the pretty girl and put her in place of the guy who was canonically a member of the marauders, even up until he was named secret keeper. suddenly, she's a prankster and an enabler.

but, snek, you may say, all of that is fanon lily, tho. you just explained that people seem to like her because they just put any personality they want into her as long as she's at least vaguely a good person. you would be right.

let's look at canon lily. she's described as the brightest witch of her age, most everyone speaks favourably of her. in fact, the only people we see actively disliking/being upset with her are petunia, out of jealousy and the invasion of privacy concerning her letter, severus, who lashed out and used a slur that also applied to him in a moment of serious distress and apologised after, and well, pureblood supremacists by virtue of her being muggleborn. interestingly enough, even this dislike manages to develop everyone's character more than it does her own.

as a teenage girl myself, let's look at her actions as a teenage girl. not necessarily in chronological order because I'm writing this at 2am and my memory is already mediocre at best.

1. she's done well enough in school to be considered trustworthy and responsible enough to be a prefect.

okay, i can respect that. a good few of the prefects at my school were really just appointed based on how much the teachers liked you, but at hogwarts, there's so few of them that they must put at least a little effort into it, so i'll move on.

2. she does not press for details when informed that her best friend's life needed to be saved by someone who has been publicly tormenting him for years

now, see, there's no reason why she needs to play therapist. it's not her job, she's just a girl, and we know that snape wasn't supposed to talk about the incident, so he would've been stuck if she had asked for an explanation. however, i also feel like she doesn't seem particularly concerned about his wellbeing, and when he brings up his concerns about lupin, rather than ask for proof, she dismisses it. which, fair enough, i would hate to listen to someone talk about the same thing over and over and over, but, i also feel like the fixation on a theory like that would be cause for concern.

3. she dismisses the actions of a group known to play tricks that harm people and have specifically been tormenting her best friend on the basis that they don't use dark magic

first, i'm going to establish what i usually assume dark magic refers to. aside from jinxes, hexes and curses, i also include anything that produces an effect similar to any of the unforgivables (takes away your life, your free will or your ability to feel safe in your own body, such as when you're in excruciating pain), and magic that would require a sacrifice of some sort.

when snape tries to point out the danger in what the marauders do, she insists that they don't use dark magic. and they don't... but they do use illegal magic. she then argues against the company that snape keeps, which, again, to be fair, is justified considering mulciber's done something to mary macdonald... it's also not a particularly realistic ask. snape probably shares a dorm with these guys, and he's a poor half-blood so he's already on the outs. as far as he knows, any dissent will be met with him getting hexed in his sleep. but, i digress.

given that the marauders have been shown to be doing extremely dangerous with little regards to anyone's safety, and actively tormenting her best friend, i disagree with her choice here. on the other hand, she's made her own friends in gryffindor and perhaps she sees a nicer side of them that we don't get to. she's justified in her actions, but i still disagree.

4. she intervenes when her best friend is hung upside down by a spell of his own invention at the wands of the people who have tormenting him for years

she does object to the marauders' treatment of him, and she does try to get them to let him down. if i were in her position, i would absolutely do the same. i respect the decision to stand up for her friend.

5. she does not seriously attempt to help him or punish the marauders

i do not respect how she handled it. at any point, she could have drawn her wand. but, snek, you say, perhaps she didn't want to get involved physically. she wanted to follow the rules. in that case, at any point, she could taken points, assigned detention, or sent someone to get a member of staff. she does none of those things and i viscerally disagree. if we were ever friends and someone tried to hurt you, i can assure you that i would try to at least see to it that they'd be punished, even if it wasn't immediate or by my own hand. lily, however, chooses to argue rather than take action.

6. she smiles when severus gets hung upside down

chances are, it was more than likely an involuntary reaction, like laughing when your friend has fallen over. however, the fact that it was intentionally written in seems like it's mean to be an indicator that the friendship was already falling apart.

7. she comments on her best friend's poverty and uses a name that's been used to make fun of him after he calls her a slur that also applies to him

she was 100% within her rights to be upset by being called a slur. it is never okay to use slurs. the only situation in which a slur could possibly ever be appropriate would be if you were an oppressed group attempting to reclaim said slur which is not at all what snape was doing here. he was experiencing cruelty, being humiliated, publicly, for no reason beyond existing and he was in distress, choking on soap and upside down. it was damaging to his pride, especially when james suggests that he needs lily to fight his battles for him (paraphrasing) which is an emasculating statement to make, especially to a teenage boy. so, snape lashes out with the most hurtful word he could think of, which happened to be a slur that also applies to him. lily was 100% justified in being upset about this, and she retaliated in kind. she was very much allowed to say what she said. i understand that she was hurt and angry and i respect that, especially as i can't guarantee that i would not have been just as upset in that situation.

8. even when the threat of sexual harassment is made, she still does nothing

i get it, at this point, she's hurt, she's mad, she wants him to suffer since she's a teenage girl and teenage girls hold grudges like it's nobody's business, but... i definitely couldn't just stand by and watch it happen. she basically just let them go through with it.

9. she does not accept her best friend's apology for calling her a slur that also applies to him, effectively burying the friendship

she is, by no means, obligated to continue being friends with him. however, if i were in that position, and the apology was sincere, i would take the friend back.

10. she goes on to date and eventually marry the guy who bullied her former best friend for his entire school life

no. i disagree. but, snek, you say, james changed. no. he didn't. we know, that at this point, james was still going after snape behind lily's back. you can say that she didn't know, but that means that she would have allowed james to lie to her and that doesn't sit right with me bc a relationship built on lies is a relationship that is going to fall apart, especially when your partner has been disappointed by your actions before. you can say that she did know, and that proves that she simply didn't take her responsibilities as head girl seriously enough to stop the head boy from harassing people when she explicitly told him not to. the point is, no. there is no way that this would have worked out as a long term relationship. james is too comfortable lying to her. i can't even say she was justified. there is no circumstance where i personally see this as okay for anybody involved.

alright, so, essentially teenage lily was justified in (most of) her actions, even if i find them questionable.

adult lily dies at 21, while saving her son, but her death also helps save the wizarding world. good job. she, as expected, did what any good mother would.

and that's canon lily.

my thoughts: she's a perfect example of why writing tips are so adamant on making sure people try to show and not tell. we were told that lily is meant to be good and pure and lovely, but the author never bothered to actually prove that, so what we're left with a dissonance between what we see and what we know.

as a result, i still don't know if i truly dislike her. her actions are justified, but they don't match with what we've been told, and we don't have any other information to go off of. at best, i can say for certain that i disagree with many of her choices, despite understanding why she would have made them (except for marrying james potter, uggghh, the only good thing to come out of that was harry and the saving of the wizarding world by extension, ig).

thanks for reading all that, btw! hope it made sense :)

[papermoonloveslucy]

THE DARK CORNER

November 10, 1947

Synopsis ~ A former San Francisco private eye, just in back New York after two years in prison (the victim of a frame-up), finds himself a target for another send-up and murder.

Directed by Fred MacKaye with musical direction by Louis Silvers and sound effects by Charlie Forsyth

Adapted for radio by Sanford Barnett from the screenplay by Jay Dratler and Bernard Schoenfeld based on the book by Leo Rosten.

It was based on the 20th Century Fox motion picture of the same name released on May 8, 1946. 

In later years, Lucille Ball was vocal about hating the experience of shooting The Dark Corner. Director Henry Hathaway's bullying reduced Ball to stuttering on set, at which point Hathaway accused her of being inebriated. At the time, Lucille Ball was suing to get out of her contract with MGM. As a result, MGM loaned her to Fox for this picture, which included a significant pay cut. 

Lux Radio Theatre (1935-55) was a radio anthology series that adapted Broadway plays during its first two seasons before it began adapting films (”Lux Presents Hollywood”). These hour-long radio programs were performed live before studio audiences in Los Angeles. The series became the most popular dramatic anthology series on radio, broadcast for more than 20 years and continued on television as the Lux Video Theatre through most of the 1950s. The primary sponsor of the show was Unilever through its Lux Soap brand.

CAST

Lucille Ball (Kathleen Stewart) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. “My Favorite Husband” eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Mark Stevens (Bradford Galt) reprises his role from the film version of The Dark Corner (1946). He became a contract player for Warners at $100 a week in 1943 but they darkened and straightened his curly ginger-colored hair and covered his freckles. At first he was billed as Stephen Richards, he later changed it to Mark Stevens at the suggestion of Darryl F. Zanuck when he switched to 20th Century-Fox. He died in 1994 at age 77. 

Joseph Kearns (Ralph Wickett) appeared on “I Love Lucy” as the psychiatrist in “The Kleptomaniac” (ILL S1;E27) and later played the theatre manager in “Lucy’s Night in Town” (S6;E22). His most famous role was as Mr. Wilson on TV’s “Dennis the Menace” (1959). When he passed away during the show’s final season, Lucy regular Gale Gordon took over for him, playing his brother.

In the film, the character was named Hardy Cathcart and was played by Clifton Webb. 

Norma Jean Nilsson (Little Girl at the Boarding House) was a child actress who left Hollywood at age 19 after appearing in 16 films and television shows.

In the film, the character carries a slide whistle, which is not used here. She was played by Colleen Alpaugh.

Wally Maher (Fred Foss aka Stauffer) was born on August 4, 1908 in Cincinnati, Ohio. He was known for Mystery Street (1950), The Reformer and the Redhead (1950) and Hollywood Hotel (1937). He was married to Molly Bruno. He died on December 27, 1951.

In the feature film, the role was played by William Bendix, who would go on to fame as the title character in TV’s “The Life of Riley.” 

Dan O'Herlihy (Anthony Jardine) was an Irish-born actor nominated for an Oscar in 1954 for Robinson Crusoe. In 1960 he made an appearance on Desilu’s “The Untouchables.” He was in two of the RoboCop movies. He died in 2005 at age 85. 

In the feature film, the role was played by German-born actor Kurt Krueger. 

Fay Baker (Mari Wickett) was born on January 31, 1917 in New York City as Fanita Baker Schwager. She was known for Notorious (1946), The House on Telegraph Hill (1951) and Deadline - U.S.A. (1952). She died on December 8, 1987.  

In the feature film, the role was taken by Cathy Downs, making her first credited screen appearance. 

ENSEMBLE

Trude Marson was seen in uncredited roles in four films from 1937 to 1947. 

Noreen Gammill started her screen career as the voice of Catty the Elephant in Disney’s Dumbo (1941). She made two background appearances on “The Andy Griffith Show” (1963 and 1964), filmed on the Desilu backlot. 

William Johnstone is probably best remembered as Judge Lowell on the long-running daytime drama “As The World Turns”.  Prior to that he worked extensively in radio and took over the role of Lamont Cranston on "The Shadow" playing opposite Agnes Moorehead when Orson Welles left the series.

Janet Scott was a regular background voice on “Lux Radio Theatre” with dozens of episodes to her credit from 1937 to 1955.

Lois Corbett  was married to Don Wilson of “The Jack Benny Program” and as such did more than a dozen episodes of the television shows with him from 1954 to 1964.  

Edward Marr was seen in The Affairs of Annabel with Lucille Ball in 1938.  He was also in two Bob Hope TV specials with Hope and Ball in 1966 and 1970.

Stanley Farrar was seen on “I Love Lucy” in “Home Movies” (ILL S3;E20) and “Staten Island Ferry” (ILL S5;E12). He on “The Lucy Show” in “Lucy and Arthur Godfrey” (TLS S3;E23) and “Lucy Meets Danny Kaye” (TLS S3;E15).

Herb Butterfield was born on October 28, 1895 in Providence, Rhode Island. He was known for The Halls of Ivy (1954), The House on Telegraph Hill (1951) and Shield for Murder (1954). On radio, he portrayed the Commissioner on NBC 's "Dangerous Assignment" (1949-53) and Clarence Wellman on "The Halls of Ivy" (1950-52). He died on May 2, 1957

Cliff Clark was seen with Lucille Ball in Her Husband’s Affairs (1947), Miss Grant Takes Richmond (1949), and The Fuller Brush Girl (1950).  

OTHERS

William Keighley (Host and Producer) was the director of nearly 40 feature films between 1932 and 1953. His film The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) was selected for the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being culturally significant.

Dorothy Lovett (Commercial Spokeswoman as Libby Collins, Hollywood Reporter) appeared as Meta Bauer on radio’s “The Guiding Light" (1945-47) and as Toni Sherwood in "The Adventures of Rocky Jordan".  She did three films with Lucille Ball from 1939 to 1941. 

Betty Ann Lynn (Herself, Act Two Intermission Guest) is best known for playing Thelma Lou on “The Andy Griffith Show” (1961 to 1965) which was filmed on the Desilu back lot. 

John Milton Kennedy (Announcer) was the announcer of all 35 episodes of “The Loretta Young Show” from 1954 to 1955.  

ACT ONE

William Keighley introduces the program, noting that many years earlier, director Fred Kohlmar saw a titian-haired young model who had great possibilities - Lucille Ball.  He later had the privilege of presenting her in the film version of The Dark Corner. After a mention of Lux Toilet Soap, the program begins. 

The action opens in a New York City office building on a sultry summer afternoon. Police detective Reeves visits the Offices of Bradford Galt, Private Investigator and speaks to his secretary, Kathleen Stewart. 

Galt enters and Reeves wonders why Galt didn’t notify him that he moved offices after his prior unpleasantness.  Galt asks Kathleen to have dinner with him. After dinner, Galt asks her to go dancing but she’s wise to his advance. As they walk down the street, they realize that they are being followed. 

Kathleen takes a cab back to the office, while Galt confronts the pursuer at gunpoint, taking him back to his office for questioning. He says his name is Fred Foss, and that he’s also a private detective. Galt doesn’t believe him and decides to beat the truth out of him. 

After some roughing up, Fred discloses that he is being paid to tail Galt by Anthony Jardine. In the tussle, some ink spills on Foss’s white suit. He lets Foss leave. Kathleen was supposed to tail Foss after he left the office, but he tricked her and got away.  

Back at his rooming house, Foss uses the hall telephone to call art gallery owner Ralph Wickett, and his ink-stained suit is noticed by a Little Girl neighbor. 

At a party for his third wedding anniversary, Wickett hangs up and is greeted by Jardine, a lawyer. Mrs. Lucy Wilding takes Jardine aside pretending to ask legal advice, but it is revealed that he is blackmailing her. 

Meanwhile, Galt confides in Kathleen about his past. Jardine is trying to kill Galt because he was a former partner that Galt confronted about his blackmailing female clients. Now Jardine wants to finish the job. 

Mari Wickett, Ralph’s wife, is having an affair with Anthony Jardine. She wants to run away with him. At the same time, Galt is headed there to settle the score. 

End of Act One

A Lux commercial break takes the form of a story from Libby Collins, Hollywood Reporter. She says she saw Universal’s The Lost Moment starring Robert Cummings and Susan Hayward. Libby says she was on location when they filmed the big fire scene, the biggest fire ever done on a sound stage.  She says that she and Susan Hayward washed the soot off their faces with Lux Toilet Soap! 

At the time of the broadcast, The Lost Moment was still two weeks from being released. It opened in cinemas on November 27, 1947. The story is set in Italy, so the cast included Edward Ciannelli, who played pizzeria owner Mr. Martinelli in “Visitor from Italy” (ILL S6;E5) and Saverio LoMedico who played the Rome hotel bellboy in “Lucy’s Italian Movie” (ILL S5;E23).  The film was not a box office success. 

ACT TWO

An hour has past since the end of Act One and Galt is at Jardine’s door. Galt threatens Jardine, who denies tailing him.The two fight  while Mari is hiding in the other room. After Galt leaves, she convinces him to run away with her. 

At the Gallery, Wickett is visited by Foss. It is clear Wickett is setting up Jardine to take the fall when he has Galt killed.  Foss calls Galt to betray Jardine for a price. Galt suggests a one-on-one meeting at his apartment - 904 West 52nd, apartment 307 at 8pm sharp. Wickett will send Jardine to Galt’s apartment at 7:30pm. 

In reality, there is no such address. West 52nd Street in New York City ends at the the 600s block. This is similar to the Ricardo and Mertz apartment building. 623 East 68th Street, which, if real, would be in the East River!

Kathleen and Galt are supposed to meet at the movies, but he doesn’t show so he goes to his apartment at 8:30. Galt opens the door and reveals that Jardine is dead. Galt was ambushed with and knocked out with ether. He woke up to find Jardine’s body bludgeoned by the fireplace poker.  Galt realizes he was set up.

Later, Galt meets Kathleen at her apartment. He couldn’t find Foss and doesn’t know where to look next. 

Wickett reminds Mari that they are due at the Kinsglsey’s that night, but she begs off. He strongly hints that he knows that Mari is stepping out on him and looking to run off. 

Galt suddenly realizes that Foss would have to have his white suit cleaned, so he is determined to search all the cleaners for the suit and get his address.

Foss phones Wickett, and the Little Girl is there to overhear his conversation. Foss makes a plan to meet Wickett on the 31st floor of the Grant building. 

Galt and Kathleen are about to give up on the search for the suit when a cleaner comes through. They get his address and trace Foss to the rooming house where he lives. His name turns out to be Stauffer, not Foss. The landlady reports that he moved out an hour ago and doesn’t know where he went. But the Little Girl does - and spills the beans for a quarter!  Galt and Kathleen head for the Grant Building. 

End of Act Two

In the break, Keighley interviews Fox contract player Betty Ann Lynn, who saw filming of Daryl F. Zanuck’s Gentleman’s Agreement starring Gregory Peck and Dorothy McGuire in a “very unusual picture”.  

Gentleman’s Agreement premiered on November 11, one day after this broadcast, in both New York City and Chicago. It dealt with anti-Semitism and went on to win three Oscars, including Best Picture. The cast included Lucycom alumni Mike Lally, Shep Houghton, Roy Roberts, and Amzie Strickland in uncredited roles. Betty Ann Lynn says that she also likes to watch the filming of a costume picture like The Foxes of Harrow starring Rex Harrison and Maureen O’Hara, who had 26 costumes made just for her.  She notes that O’Hara has a Lux complexion. 

The Foxes of Harrow was released September 13, 1947. "Lux Radio Theater" broadcast a sixty minute radio adaptation of this movie on December 6, 1948, with Maureen O'Hara reprising her movie role. The movie was the screen debut of William Schallert, who did several episodes of “The Lucy Show.”  O’Hara and Lucille Ball became lifelong friends after their 1940 film Dance, Girl, Dance. Like Gentleman’s Agreement, The Foxes of Harrow also features Roy Roberts, who went on to play bank president Mr. Cheever on “The Lucy Show.”

ACT THREE

Kathleen and Galt rush to the Grant Building, where Mr. Wickett is about to settle accounts on a remote fire escape. Foss / Stauffer brings proof that Jardine is dead but Wickett throws him from the fire escape to his death. 

Galt and Kathleen witness the whole incident from the street, as does the cab driver who was waiting for Foss / Stauffer. Thinking fast, Galt steals the cab which still contains Foss’s luggage. Later, we hear that the bags were only full of clothes. Kathleen urges him to keep thinking.   Kathleen suddenly remembers that the Little Girl mentioned galleries. They put the pieces together and all evidence leads them to the Wickett Galleries. Galt heads there and questions the clerk. Under the guise of buying a painting, Galt inquires about meeting Mr. Wickett, and the clerk departs. Mari comes in the side door, and Galt tells her that Anthony Jardine has been murdered. She faints. Wickett comes in and when Galt tells him the truth, Ralph locks him in the gallery vault. Mari has revived and overhears Ralph’s threats, holding a gun on him. She shoots her husband dead. 

Kathleen has tipped off the police, who only want to charge him with stealing a taxi cab. Kathleen asks if he can be booked at another time because they have a date at the City Hall - to get married. 

End of Story

As a curtain call, Keighley chats with Lucille Ball and Mark Stevens. He congratulates Ball on the success of her stage show, Dream Girl, a play she says she will do again in San Francisco. When Keighley asks how Lucille’s busy schedule and that of her husband Desi Arnaz’s leave any time for a personal life, Ball says that they will be playing in San Francisco at the same time. 

In June 1947, Lucille Ball performed at New Jersey’s McCarter Theatre in Dream Girl, a play by Elmer Rice. It also played Brooklyn, Detroit and Boston. 

The San Francisco production opened just a week after this radio telecast. As Ball states, Desi Arnaz was also in San Francisco at the time, playing in the Rose Room of the Palace Hotel, a fact that was advertised in the Dream Girl program. During the Los Angeles engagement in January 1948, Ball fell ill and had to withdraw. Although she love performing on stage, her radio career and then television success did not allow her to return to the footlights until 1960.  

Lucy notes that like many other busy stars, she owes her good complexion to Lux Soap! 

Turning to Mark Stevens, Lucille notes that he will play an FBI man in his next project at Fox, with Keighley as director. 

Although the film’s title is not mentioned, they are referring to The Street With No Name, which won’t be released until June 1948. Stevens plays Gene Cordell aka George Manley, a covert FBI agent who infiltrates a ruthless gangster mob. "Lux Radio Theater" broadcast a 60-minute radio adaptation of the movie on January 31, 1949 with Mark Stevens reprising his film role. 

Keighley notes that next week “Lux Radio Theatre” will present Jane Wyman and Ronald Reagan in Nobody Lives Forever. 

The Warner Brothers picture Nobody Lives Forever was released on November 1, 1946. It originally starred John Garfield and Geraldine Fitzgerald in roles taken on radio by Reagan and Wyman, who were husband and wife at the time. Of course, Reagan left Hollywood for a grander stage, first in California as Governor, then as President of the United States. He bestowed Lucille Ball with The Kennedy Center Honor in 1986.

A public service announcement asks housewives to salvage kitchen fats and turn them in at their local butcher for cash!  

These were used to make supplies for wartime, such as ammunition and weapons. 

Announcer Kennedy notes that Mark Stevens appeared through the courtesy of 20th Century Fox, producers of Forever Amber. 

Forever Amber is a 1944 romance novel by Kathleen Winsor set in 17th-century England. It was made into a film in 1947 starring Cornel Wilde, who appeared in “The Star Upstairs” (ILL S4;E25). When “Lucy Writes A Novel” (ILL S3;E24), Ethel jokes about finding Lucy’s hidden manuscript and burning it:  “We pulled down the kitchen blind and changed the name of your novel to 'Forever Ember.'” 

‘DARK’ TRIVIA

In a September 1985 episode of “Remington Steele,” a character played by Stephen Dillane has the name Bradford Galt!  The stories, however, are not otherwise connected. 

In both the film and the radio show, Fred Foss gives his phone number as CH-elsea 4-43510. However, according to the Manhattan phone book for 1946, there were only CH-elsea 2 and CH-elsea 3 exchanges. Real phone numbers were rarely used in film or television. 

When television began to supplant radio, “The Lux Video Theatre” was introduced. It was seen from 1950 to 1959. Initially, the show was a thirty-minute weekly show featuring live stage plays, but when it moved to NBC in August 1954, the show was extended to sixty minutes. As on radio, the programs were then primarily adaptations of motion pictures. The host would introduce each act, and would conduct an interview with the stars at the end of the play. Of the cast of this radio version of The Dark Corner:

William Keighley directed an episode in 1951. 

Mark Stevens did an episode in 1955. 

Dan O’Herlihy did five episodes. 

Joseph Kearns did three episodes. 

The character name Ralph Wickett replaced Hardy Cathcart for the radio show. It is likely that they could no longer get legal clearance to use the name Hardy Cathcart, necessitating the change. 

The film featured Ellen Corby as a maid, a role not in the radio drama. Corby went on to be seen as Lucy Ricardo’s high school acting teacher and in several small roles on “The Lucy Show” before her best-loved role of Grandma on “The Waltons.” 

The film also features background work by Sam Harris, who did 15 films with Lucille Ball, in addition to multiple episodes of “I Love Lucy” and “The Lucy Show” as well as Harold Miller, who did eight films with Lucy and two episodes of “I Love Lucy”. 

The film is available on DVD complete with DVD commentary and original trailer. 

[angsty-aliens]

Michael and ♦☯☼ for the headcanon meme !

Quirks/hobbies headcanon:Michael always has a package of peanut butter crackers hidden someplace in his airstream. One time Max sat on it and made fun of him. Michael brushed it off as a drunk snack he forgot he hid, but really he was hungry a lot as a kid and he got used to hoarding food. Even as an adult, he can’t quite break the habit. It gives him a sense of security.

As for hobbies, Michael fiddles. He can’t sit still. There’s just too much going on in his head at any moment, so all that chaos comes out in his fingers. He secretly whittles, but never shows anyone because he thinks the little animals he makes look stupid. He’s not very good at whittling, but because it involves a knife, it requires a certain degree of attention and it helps quiet his mind. (He’s not as bad as he thinks. Someday when Max and Liz have a kid, he’ll end up showering the kiddo in a menagerie of little carved animals, and the kid will LOVE it.)

Likes/Dislikes headcanon:

Michael loves junk food. The junkier the better. Herseys bars, pop secret popcorn, reeses pieces, are all favorites. He loves getting name brand junk food. He once told Isobel that buying a real herseys bar is the same feeling she gets when she orders an expensive wine at a restaurant. She can afford it, she likes it, and no one can tell her she can’t buy it.Michael dislikes canned beans. All canned beans. When he was younger, some of his foster families would go to the food bank and they’d always have beans just a shy of expiring. People always cleared out their cabinets and discovered extra beans they weren’t going to use. Sometimes he feels like his whole childhood is just canned lima beans, heated up in the microwave. Discarded food just like he was discarded. One time Alex is fixing chili and Michael has to leave the room when he sees the cans lined up on the counter. Red kidney beans, white kidney beans... four cans just sitting there. He logically knows that beans go into chili. And he LIKES chili. Especially Alex’s chili. But he hates the sight of the cans.

Appearance headcanon:

Those luscious curls are 100% Isobel. The alcoholic shaved his head when he was 9 and caught lice at school. No one ever really knew what to do with his hair, and he mostly just used a bar of soap to scrub at his head. At least he was clean. But Isobel saw his hair when he was 11 years old, and immediately started researching how to take care of curly hair. Her mother was totally baffled. Isobel has straight hair, Ann has straight hair, and Max only has a few inches of hair. Nothing that requires special attention.Isobel knows Michael is worth special attention.

She finds out that conditioner is key with curly hair. And you need to comb it with a wide tooth comb, and then leave it alone to dry. The brush Michael was using was making his hair fluff instead of curl. So she buys him conditioner and a comb, and insists it’s a birthday present and not charity. She bullies him into following the routine she researched. And he’ll never admit it, but he loves his hair and he loves Isobel for caring.

[nuka-nuke]

All odd numbers for Dizzy! :D

1. On a scale of “is occasionally forced to bathe” to “Instagram model with sponsors to hoe for” how involved is your OC’s Skincare routine?

Dizzy, even while growing up in the wasteland and not really having constant access to bathing, is still really concerned with how he looks most of the time, so he’s more on the “instagram model with sponsors to hoe for” level. He’s not particularly vain, but he will definitely bitch and whine if he gets too greasy and especially dusty. Soap is relatively easy to make, and his abuela makes enough for all of them so Rey really has no excuse for how shitty he looks all the time!!

3. What’s something pointless/petty/unimportant that IRRATIONALLY ANNOYS THE HELL out of your OC?

Dizzy can not STAND being called Jimmy. Girls sometimes tried it to be “cute" or whatever, but his mother is the only one who can get away with it without getting sass. He also hates when people touch his hair, which mostly likely stems from Rey bullying him and pulling it when he was younger and it was much longer. That will more often than not result in him punching whoever touches it in the gut.

5. Does your OC get lost easily? What do they do when they do get lost?

He knows Freeside like the back of his hand, even before other people were banished from the Strip by House, his family was always there so he very rarely gets lost. He knows every hiding spot, every falling building, every shitty broken road and all the best places for a good view of the real Vegas.

Beyond Freeside, however, he’s absolutely hopeless. Without help he’d be wandering the Mojave lost for the rest of his life. He’d handle it, by… panicking and fearing for his life, running away from nearly anything that came up to him. He’d be an absolute mess.

7. Realistically, could your OC (in their normal circumstances- i.e. at thier own house/battlecamp/spaceship etc.) keep a small child alive for a week if they had to? A Dog? A House plant? A rock with a smiley face painted on?

Realistically, yes. His aunt has twin toddlers that she often leaves with him while her and Neela “work", because even though Rey actually had a younger sibling, he is terrifying to kids and awful with them. Dizzy is kind of a complainer about it, but he actually loves them and would be a great older brother. He’d never want any of his own, though.

9. What would cause your OC to chose to do something petty/pointlessly cruel?

He doesn’t really need an excuse… he is petty as shit all the time. But particularly if anyone so much as even thought something bad about his mother, he would find the pettiest and most pointlessly cruel way to get back at them. No one says anything bad about Neela Euler without him getting back at them!

11. What song is 100% guaranteed to get your OC beyond turnt and will be sung loudly and embarrassingly, either in public or the shower?

It would take a lot of rum for Dizzy to ever sing in front of anyone, even those he really loves and trusts. He can sing fantastically well! But he has horrible “stage fright” of ever letting anyone know that. So in absolute private, “Treat Me Nice” is one of his favorite songs from the King and would be the one to get him to actually sing loudly and embarrassingly. To himself. With no one else around.

13. Under what circumstances would your OC appear naked in public?

He isn’t actually that self conscious of his body, surprisingly. He’d be annoyed if he ever had to, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing to ever happen. I really don’t know under what circumstances that would ever happen, though. His mom making him bathe in a bucket in the yard because she’s using the tub for making gin? Idk.

15. How often does your OC “zone out” or do things on autopilot and how severe have the problems that have arisen from that been?

He doesn’t “zone out" so much as he daydreams, or gets so focused on his own thoughts that he can’t pay attention to what’s going on around him. And that happens a lot. Sometimes it’ll just be music playing in his head, other times it will be over analyzing every little thing he or someone else is doing, or a lot of the time it’ll just be spacing out thinking of how fucking cute Lucky is ehhh… important… Kings business. Yeah.

The only problem that has ever arisen from it is if he spaces out thinking of something irrelevant in the middle of the King giving him an order. Which, maybe has happened… when Lucky and Harper had been there to get a job at the same time.

(Dizzy.exe stops working anytime that cowboy is near him.)

17. How does your OC sabotage themselves?

Dizzy talks himself into circles trying to keep up this “cool" persona he has made up, and often uses it as a defense mechanism when he is too shy to just say how he actually feels. He used to think no one would ever like the real him if he didn’t keep it up, but he is slowly trying to let himself trust others enough to bring his walls down

[ottogatto]

You know what’s canon?

James and Sirius bullied Snape in the train just because he said he wanted to go to Slytherin.

What’s canon is that they bullied everyone in the corridors.

What’s canon is that they called all Slytherin dark wizards—in a very bigoted way.

Just like you seem to like associating political movements with DEs, I’ll do it as well: calling Slytherins dark by nature is like calling muslims terrorists by nature.

Think about that.

Think about what your point only confirmed yours and the marauders’ bigotry.

Even if Snape was casting Dark Magic—which he canonically hasn’t done except to legitimately defend himself from canon assault and torture (soap chocking)—it does not give any right for bullying.

To anyone.

But you’re right. Nobody wants to be friends with violent self-righteous bullies who use magic for torture, sexual assault, sexual harassment and threat to hurt the girl they fancy, or attempted murder, for the sake of your apparent precariousness and House-belonging.

That’s why marauders are not people to be friends with.

Just like the books showed that people were literally afraid of them, among the good/neutral guys.

And indeed, no teacher can bully their students.

Snape has done mistakes. Things he shouldn’t have done. But really, considering the text you’ve pulled about how people would react under his teaching, I tend to wonder if advising you to read the books more closely is a valuable thing.

Because you’ll find LOTS of severe abuse at Hogwarts and around. And Snape is visibly one of the best teachers in the end because of that condoned absurdity. He’s one of the closest to teachers we can find in our schools. Not the congenital insane ones who use assault and mortal threat as pubishment (McGonagall and Hagrid among others), or who’d rather gamble your life than take their responsibilities (Lupin and Slughorn).

Despite the fact Snape can’t very well control the way he expresses maladaptive coping mechanisms, stressed as he is with a 100-hours per week schedule combined with spying-war effort and untreated, severe long-lasting trauma that’d have yeeted any child of nowadays in the afterlife sooner than you can say "bye bye".

You’re on the wrong track man. I’m not saying abuse is ok because Snape dislikes children (except for his Slytherins visibly). I’m saying we might want to reconsider what’s abuse under those new perspectives if we don’t want to cast half of HP character—and 75% of the main good guys—as pure evil sadistic monsters.

Believe me Snape is below the marauders on this. Yes, even as a teacher.

So excuse me for my inevitable condescendence in my writing—you’ll find I do that when I’m on a kind mood when writing to people who don’t get it—but when I see you take things the wrong way repeatedly (such as last post where you brought back the teacher abuse subject out of nowhere despite the subject being over tonks; here craving to believe I condone abuse because of this or that, which is ironically what you do on the marauders’ side, go figure)—when you display such a distorted tale of who was Severus Snape as a teen AND as a teacher or how his students reacted to him—when you keep assuming what’s not canon or what’s directly contradicted by canon, with a touch of disrespect for Jewish and the visibly not-yet-learned lesson that Slytherins aren’t inherantly evil, or that there isn’t such a thing as "Dark magic = Evil magic", as demonstrated in the books by such examples as Snape risking to break his cover so he can use Sectumsempra against a DE and save Lupin (a dark spell for the good of people) or Harry trying to Sectumsempra some Inferi (dark magic as protection) while "light" magic can do REAL harm (Lupin proposed to kill DEs with Stupefy and Harry was horrified, muggles don’t need magic to torture)—yes I have to admit having difficulties taking this another polite way than with a streak of amused sarcasm.

Don’t take this personally, I guess.

literally growing up is realising the marauders are not this cool group of friends you might want to join, but more of the cruel, spineless bullies that made people's lives living hell. growing up is thinking about how the marauders were what they were, marauders, but you don't think about it so lightly anymore; they weren't pranksters, they were bullies, attempted murderers, traitors only one step away from drawing wands against each other.

indeed, they were marauders.

and now you have grown and you think about who they were, who they grew up to be, and how they died. none of them met the end their evilness deserved.

james died by the hands of a dark wizard, everyone spent days grieving "oh he was so young." and nobody wishes to speak ill of the dead, nobody but the ones who suffered the wrath of the corpses that had once lived. he tormented, bullied a kid because he existed, he had such a low view of him he reduced the boy's sin to be his very own existence, and isn't that cold coming from someone that so proudly comes from the light side? of the side of the good folk in a world that only sees black and white, nevermind shades of grey. yes, he was a child too, but at the age of sixteen shouldn't you be held accountable for your actions?

remus lupin died a war hero and again, everyone grieved. nobody thought of the dark creature who condoned bullying and humiliation; that had once abused of his power as a prefect, when one of the obligations of the position had been to keep the rest of the student body safe, he made exceptions. now i ask you, how much of an hypocrite do you have to be to bully a kid for being drawn to the dark arts, being a dark creature yourself? are you sure your friends didn't think of running with a wolf another one of their accomplishments as "pranksters", a mere fun activity filled with the adrenaline of yet again, breaking the rules?

sirius black died by hands of his deranged cousin, oh yes, again, people grieved. he was young, on the run, a fugitive that maybe deserved some of his time when he didn't think twice before sending a fellow student to possibly meet his death, or worse, be turned into a werewolf, using his so called friend as a weapon, something to scare, something to fear. you claim to be so different from your family, filled with dark magicians and prejudices; yet you didn't mind using a werewolf as a method to implement fear to a fifteen year old?

peter pettigrew died by his own hand. a foolish moment of hesitation, a mistake. he deserved it, nobody grieved, he was a scum even amongst death eaters. he was repulsive; he never had the charisma, wits or power his friends had, his rat like behaviour was maybe the only weapon he ever had, and he used it, until he died by the lack of determination that may have forced him to turn to such low behaviour in the first place.

growing up is realising you would either suffer at their hand, be a background character in their lives as you settle in the comfortable crowd (because it's easier to laugh at someone's despair than holding tears back at your own, right?) or be another recurring target.

you can think, imagine, you could ever be friends with them, that maybe, your fictional characters wouldn't spit on your face and maybe they'd nice to you. but remember, james potter, probably the self proclaimed leader of the gang of bastards, wouldn't falter at hexing the girl he was madly in love with (obsessed) so why would they treat you any better?

[meggellithorne]

all the beautiful nostalgic moments of my youth:

1. homemade ice lollies

2. camping with my family

3. picking up acorns for the “perfect fire” with grampa

4. lanterns on New Years Eve

5. losing my favourite stick & Grampa holding my hand & following my steps to find it

6. braaing with Grampa

7. cooking with gran

8. school projects with my grandparents

9. my grade 7 lightning poster with mom

10. dad going all the way home from the airport to fetch my favorite ring so I didn’t have to leave home without it

11. mom doing me & my brothers nails in a little bowl when we were super small

12. that time I lost P200 I was supposed to give to my grade 7 teacher and had an anxiety attack and cried because I was so scared I’d get into trouble & mom gave me a hug and told me it was okay

13. trying on dresses for my matric dance with my mom & gran

14. going to milky lane & watching “When in Rome” with my gran

15. Ocean Basket with my dad

16. Perna Perna with my gran & grampa

17. drawing a whale at my grandparents house & my mom having it framed (age 7, mom drew a horse)

18. running down Kilimanjaro with my dad (even though he told my brother he’d rather have gone with him)

19. dad saying “I love you so much, you’re always on my side” one day when I was small and he came home late at night from work

20. dad bringing home two pieces of nickel from the mine for me & my little brother

21. mom teaching me how to draw shapes

22. napping at the top of my clothes cupboard because I could fit & liked to sleep in hidden places

23. my childhood friend Kyra & I picking lemons & putting them in our dresses to make boobs

24. shopping with mom

25. gran teaching me how to knit & getting me a Barbie sewing machine for my birthday

26. mom giving me a pretty purple passport doll one day when I was anxious that she was mad at me

27. gran teaching me how to plait

28. dads hugs & cuddles & little massages

29. Simba & Tigger, the most beautiful little animals

30. walking on the monkey bars with my friend Robynne every break time

31. teaching my childhood crush (Christiaan) how to write the number 3

32. making vegetable soup in my grade 1 class with Mrs Richards

33. Mrs Van de Bought taking me home and getting me an ice-cream because Harry Potter, our class movie, was really scary (age 4)

34. Shakawe with my friend Shevaun: we made up silly songs & put on a show for the family (age 11)

35. the day my dad bought home my JCB teddy bear from his company trip in London

36. Christmases in Plett, and riding our bikes all over (especially the time it flooded & we had to cycle in knee deep water, which was really fun)

37. story telling after lights out in the boarding house

38. my little brother and I climbing onto the roof when mom wasn’t home and jumping into the pool with our friend/brother Neil

39. also climbing onto the roof and having picnics

40. quad biking with our parents and squishing into pairs on the bikes

41. dressing up as a cat and climbing trees with my friend Meagan

42. switching clothes & climbing the jungle gym every time we went to Anniques house

43. picking mulberries with Jemma

44. decorating the treehouse at our new house

45. dad bringing home Patch

46. diving down & picking marula fruit out of the pool

47. singing to my little cousin Eric while we were waiting for his mom to get home (he was scared she wouldn’t)

48. playing teacher with my little brother and his friend Barend (I even gave them homework)

49. teaching my little brother how to read

50. my high school friendships, their closeness & the sisterhood (Kelly, Kieran & Tshili)

51. Aero plane trips home from boarding school with Amy

52. holding my little cousin Robbie when he was just a baby (making extra sure I was cradling his head)

53. playing barbies outside with my little brother and building whole towns

55. that carpet with the roads & a little city which we’d play cars on

56. drawing hearts with mine & Christiaans initials on the mirror after I showered

57. the day he asked me to be his girlfriend in grade 6 (we said we loved each other straight after that lol)

58. taking Simba into the bush and driving slowly behind her in the car as she ran into the wilderness

59. making little beds in my draws for Tigger

60. the furry mouse toy/memento the vet gave me after Tigger died

61. Sun City with Sean & Conner (and one time my grandparents came) on all my birthday’s.

62. when I got my first phone from my gran and Grampa

63. me & Hannah’s medieval outfits from my Aunty Carol

64. all the important people being proud of me & my good report cards

65. my walk with dad when he told me he’d like me to repeat grade 8 because I was too much younger than my peers (who bullied me)

66. watching “How to lose a guy in 10 days” every Christmas with my mom, because for some reason it always showed on TV in December

67. chewing gum for the first time on Robberg mountain

68. boogie boarding with my dad because we were too young to do it ourselves

69. dad’s French toast

70. Mom’s soup

71. lunches with my aunty & gran every Wednesday during my first year at boarding school

72. decorating my room at my gran & Grampa’s house

73. building my milk carton car with my Grampa in the back yard

74. gran’s Sunday brunches & Heckers nursery

75. singing “party for 2”, “lemon tree”, “pretty Belinda”, “away in a manger” and “grandpas old jalopy” in the car as a family during road trips

76. picking flowers and bringing them to my mom

77. making special headache bags (sandwich bags with water and flowers in them, tied with a hair band) & special soap concoctions in the shower

78. climbing the tree at the the tennis club

79. playing with red velvet mites & mophane worms & making them race

80. riding those plastic black motorbikes on the tennis courts

81. jay boarding with Reece & Kyle (and tying them to the back of our bikes to go extra fast)

82. turning a lawnmower into a go-cart with my little brother

83. spray painting fishing lures with my dad

84. drawing a horse sign for the farm with my little cousins (I was director)

85. my first kiss

86. dancing with my roommate KB at a dance I forgot the name of but had the best time at

87. singing my moms ringtone so she’d think her phone was ringing and would come find us

88. playing rugby and soccer with my dad

89. playing canasta with my dad & our secret cheat code

90. being 5 years old and insisting on like 4 outfit changes every day

91. Aunty Solfrid washing and styling my hair with little butterfly clips and doing my makeup

92. being in a dance play and getting to be a pink ballerina (age 4)

93. playing tennis with Loryn & Shevaun

94. breaks with Robyn & Tunanjina (we “invented” a game where you had to throw our school hats to each other & catch them with sticks)

95. watching high school musical with my mom & little brother

96. singing & playing “I’m a Barbie girl on repeat” with a big set of headphones

97. dressing up as a fairy or princess every chance I got

98. watching the nutcracker & Care Bears on video at my grans house

99. going to the pantomime

100. the elephant teddie bear that aunty Vicki got me when Eric was born, and the brown talking bear she got especially for me when I had pneumonia

101. helping dad with the cottage window putty

102. decorating “my room” with gran & grampa

103. boat trips with the family, dad letting us drive around the bouys & mom teaching us how to blow bubbles with chappies

104. singing “angels” by Robbie Williams with KB in the boarding house & painting our nails glittery blue

105. being a close little family & feeling loved & cherished & important

I know these are just the good moments, and that writing this made me cry because things aren’t like this anymore; but these are the moments I will always hold close to my heart - however trivial they may seem.

[thequarrelsome]

14, 40, 41, 94!

014. DETAIL ONE SECRET SHAME YOUR CHARACTER FEELS. 

it’s about his lack of education. lambert feels shame about very few things, and perhaps in witcher setting it’s not that pronounced as education is not that widely accessible to the public, but in modern it’s something he is very conscious about. he dropped out of high school simply because it started to become too much paired with the training at home and him feeling isolated from everyone else. 

in my modern verse his combat/monster training started at the age of 8 and didn’t stop until 18. he is a third child being raised by a single father, he wears his brothers’ hand-me-downs, he is an aggressive kid, so he’s not exactly bullied but he is very isolated. he has trouble concentrating because he’s tired a lot and eventually he just doesn’t go back and he’s not pushed too hard to go back either. there are a few shouting matches about it, but lambert is not willing to bend, just like throughout most of his life.

but he sees so many people going to university, and he feels it hit closer to home when ciri gets into a university and he feels like he missed out, and he feels stupid compared to others. it’s something he beats himself up with regularly and makes him feel inferior compared to others which only fuels his aggression further.

040. WHAT IS THEIR OBSESSION? 

i wouldn’t say he’s obsessive, however, he is very competitive. he is an alcoholic but does that really an obsession or a different category? i guess, in a way his obsession must be his fear of abandonment. because his mother left when he was still an infant in modern, he is terrified of people leaving him, that later made worse by his friend, aiden dying. in witcher abandonment is still an issue, though he was dragged away from home to be made into a witcher. he is terrified of heartache, of pain, so he simply exchanges all his emotions with anger and he is constantly prickly, insulting people and keeping them at arm’s length, that way they can never truly get close to him, and if they don’t get close, them leaving won’t hurt him either.

this constant fear shapes all his relationships so he obsessively makes sure to not get attached, only ever sleeping with someone once and then never looking back. that way he was the one who left and he formed no attachments. he still longs for attachments but the fear is stronger, terrified of the pain it would bring if he had to live through it. he has to with the death of aiden, the one time he chose to be vulnerable and befriend someone. no wonder he kills everyone who had anything to do with his friend’s death. but that only cements his belief that getting attached is the worst thing he could ever do.

041. ARE THEY COMFORTABLE WITH TECHNOLOGY? 

sort of?? he’s actually not a massive fan of most kinds of technology in modern. okay, he loves his tv, he loves his soaps, he has a massive horror film dvd collection, but while he has a phone he strictly uses it to text and call if needs be, no apps, not playing on his phone, none of that. he has a laptop but only to carry out business transactions, otherwise, he does nothing on it. no, he doesn’t watch porn either, because he just goes out and brings someone home for that reason. he’s not a massive fan i guess but if he has to use it, he can.

094. NAME THREE THINGS MOST WOULD NOT EXPECT YOUR CHARACTER TO BE ABLE TO KNOW.   

oooh that’s hard. as i said he has a thing about knowing less than other people… but… i guess his carpentry counts? he is such a destructive guy it’s a surprise to know he actually likes to build and create when his time allows him to. he knows how to make most furniture and he whittles little figurines as well for fun. a lot of technical knowledge goes into creating sturdy and reliable furniture and most of the wooden furniture in his house was made by him. again i think that counts in witcher as well, i mean he built a boat! yeah it leaks a bit, but still, that’s a whole boat he built all by himself and no one is even a little impressed with that, which i find highly insulting!

but i can’t think of two other things at the moment.

@zharptiitsa  |  100 random character development questions