#this one stays in the drafts methinks

[boatemlag]

ok i feel fucking crazy you will only get this out of me ONCE. (blatant lie.) i know. I KNOW. that dduo fans can be really fucking loud. but my god can we stop with the "L + grian only" behavior and stop pretending what they did in that desert wasnt deeply fucking insane.

[sihirbazi]

there are two wolves inside of you one hates liam neeson and the other one is overpoweringly horny for him as qui-gon jinn in star wars the phantom menace (1999)

[woundmypride]

not to be insane but also. to be insane...

i reallyyyyy miss the "hanzo acts like an older brother to dva" headcanon so i thought i should share my thoughts cause i havent seen content for it in so long ;_; be warned there are a lot of headcanons and some assumptions about canon events

- Neither of them got a normal childhood

Hanzo grew up in the Shimada Clan, an environment that expected the best from him at every moment. It was beaten into his mind that he was and had to be the best at everything, and that he had to be serious and calculated in order to serve his clan. His father had no room for childishness or fun, so neither should Hanzo. His seriousness at such a young age emotionally separated him from Genji and Kiriko, and likely other children his age. 

D.Va was drafted into MEKA at 19, which placed major responsibility and stress on her. Her hometown being attacked by omnics combined with having to fight them herself wore her down immensely. Once she began racking up wins (in video games and in fights with omnics), she became a young celebrity of decent size, even going so far as to star in movies. This amount of fame so young definitely had an impact on her mental. 

- They both see themselves as less than people or ignore their own feelings

Hanzo was raised to be an asset to the clan. He was meant to be a stoic leader, not an emotional one. I heavily doubt his father cared much about his feelings as a person, more so about whether he had traits useful to the clan. This idea has been internalized and follows him into adulthood, given how vain he is.

D.Va’s representation by the media shows her as a fearless fighter and an optimistic icon, harshly contradicting how much the omnics attacks and losses are weighing her down. Since the people of South Korea see her this way, she feels obligated to live up to this idea of herself. She also gets very invested in her work and tends to neglect things such as sleep when she is focused. 

On an unrelated note, I want to introduce a headcanon so I can elaborate on how they might interact: - D.Va reminds Hanzo of Genji

D.Va and Genji are, firstly, both gamers. This is the most glaringly obvious similarity to Hanzo, and it emotionally frustrates him to no end. 

They both stay glued to things, even when it becomes unhealthy (work, games, etc.). While this was more of a childhood trait for Genji, it still applies to D.Va. 

They’re both quick-witted with their humor and comebacks.

I think Hanzo and D.Va would have a lot of tension because of this (mostly on Hanzo’s side) when they first meet, which I might talk about in another post- but methinks when Hanzo notices D.Va is pushing herself too hard, it activates some weird older brother instinct in Hanzo. He's familiar with Genji staying up all night to play a video game, and since he knew he couldn't stop him, he simply brought food or company instead. He repeats this with D.Va as well. A lot of the things that Hanzo does for D.Va are projections of what he wished he could have done/used to do for Genji when they were kids.  thank u for reading i know this is super disorganized bc its been in my drafts forever u_u

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: Josh lane come get y'all juice!!

This fic has been sitting in my drafts for a hot sec and I’ve finally finished it! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Sorry for any typos/mistakes!

Summary: Good things come to those who wait. And our sweet Josh is about to find out just how good those things can be. 

Content Warnings: Oral (m and f rec.) fingering, pegging, slight edging. Needless to say, 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4961 

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

You can’t help but leer at him as the two of you make your way into the venue from the parking lot. Josh always looks gorgeous, but tonight you find yourself wishing that the two of you had just stayed home. 

“Enjoying the view?” Josh asks, turning to catch you staring at his ass with a cocky smirk.

“Meh. I’ve seen better.” 

“Have you now?” Josh stops, allowing you to catch up with him. Grabbing your wrists, he pulls you into him so that your chests are flush against one another. 

“Oh ya. Way better.” You tell him, grinning as he places his hands on your hips. 

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” He says, cocking a brow at you and giving you a mischievous smile.

“She doth protest too much because she has not the words to describe such beauty.” You say, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and looping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Ethereal. Divine. Transcendent. Such lofty words that still fall short.” You continue, giving a mock frown. 

“Not to ruin the vibe here, babe.” he tells you with a sideways grin, “but it makes my dick hard when you talk about me like that.” 

“Literally shut the fuck up.” You slap his chest playfully. “You better behave tonight.” 

“No promises. I still think we should have just stayed in tonight.” 

You just roll your eyes, pulling away from him to enter the venue. 

-🌻🌻🌻🌻-

“Baby?” 

The sound of Josh’s sweet voice makes it to your ears over the sounds of the bar, drawing your attention away from your conversation with another friend of yours. 

“Yeah?” You ask him, swiveling in your high top chair at the bar to see him taking a seat in the one next to you. He’s got an odd look about him, and his cheeks are flushed from the alcohol. 

He leans in closer to you, tilting his head downwards so that his lips hover just above your ear – it’s loud in the bar, but not so loud to warrant his pretty lips coming so close to you in order for you to hear him. 

“Can we go home, baby?” The words slip from his lips, accent slightly more prominent since he’s been drinking, and there’s just a tiny hint of a whine in his words. “Please?” 

He’s been extra clingy all night. He’s always touchy, but tonight he’s turned the touchiness up to 11. You’re not really complaining – his obvious desire for you makes you feel extra special tonight.  

“We just got here.” You tell him, furrowing your brows at his sudden lack of interest in parties. Normally, you’re the one that has to drag him away from an event like this. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. Just wanna be…” he trials off, raising a brow in a way that’s so ridiculously attractive you almost choke, “alone with you.” 

You bite your lip – the neediness of his words affecting you in a way that, perhaps, they shouldn’t be. Certainly, in a way that isn’t appropriate for a social gathering such as this. Especially when he’s sitting in front of you looking so delectable in his tan suit and white turtleneck. The outfit looks better on him than any article of clothing has a right to, and there’s a large part of you that would be more than happy to just go home and tear it off him. But you’re enjoying yourself, too. You haven’t seen some of these people in ages, and you want to spend a little more time with them before leaving. 

Not to mention, there’s another little part of you that loves how much Josh wants to go home – solely to be with you. You want to soak up the feeling as much as you can. Why not draw it out? It just makes the reward that much more enjoyable.  

“We’ll go home soon, babe.” You say, waving your hand dismissively, “Just be patient.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, sarcasm dripping off him, “have you met me before?”

“Patience, Josh. Or I’ll make you stay here much longer than either of us really want to be.” 

That shuts him up, and you watch in humor as he slinks away, turning back only once to give you a bratty look before disappearing back into the crowd. 

You mix and mingle for a while longer, catching up with old friends as you flit about the room. Occasionally, you’ll catch Josh’s eye and he’ll give you a pleading look – one that normally would have you falling to your knees and giving him whatever he wants. But tonight, there’s a fire within your veins that renders his magical puppy dog eyes useless on you. 

As the revelry of the night ensues, you find yourself tucking away in a corner with a few of your closer friends, lounging on the leather sofas and catching up. It doesn’t take long for Josh to come and find you though, and he settles next to you – so close you can feel the warmth of him as he presses his thigh against yours. 

“Now?” He whispers, once again leaning in close to your ear. 

“No.” You tell him, taking a sip of your drink. 

“Babe…” He sighs, shoulders slumping, “I want you so bad. Please can we go?”

“Josh,” you place your glass down on the table and turn your body to face him more fully, “I’m enjoying spending time with my friends. You can wait.” 

He sticks his bottom lip out and looks at you through his pretty lashes. 

“Laying it on thick, huh Joshy?” You bat your own lashes at him in response. 

He shrugs. 

“And why do you have to be so mean?” He’s not serious, but he is losing patience. 

You raise a brow at him and sit up a little straighter. 

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” 

“Have you seen you?” He asks you, raking his eyes up and down your form. “Your dress is going to kill me one of these days. A happy death, no doubt. But a tragedy nonetheless.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully, chest warming with affection for the ridiculous man in front of you. 

“Are you really that desperate for it?” 

He just nods at you, soft curls bouncing where they rest on his forehead. 

“Too bad.” You tell him simply, reaching your hand over to rub his thigh softly with your fingertips. You stifle a gasp when you feel him, half hard, through his pants. 

He whines quietly as your fingers brush over his clothed cock, rocking his hips delicately forward. 

“Please.” He whispers, cutting his honey brown eyes to look back at you. His cheeks have become a dark red and his chest heaves with each breath. You’ve never seen him look so ravished without having even done anything to him yet. 

“Patience, Josh.” Is all you give him, stroking his length through his pants one more time before you turn away, jumping right back into the conversation with your friends. 

You hear him stifle a groan as he shifts next to you, clearly uncomfortable. You feel slightly bad for him, imagining how he must be feeling – popping a boner in public like a teenager. But that’s as far as your sympathy goes. You’re not ready to give up the game yet. 

After a while, he calms down enough that he can rise from the sofa. He gives you a frustrated glare as he retreats, and you can’t help but to smile into your drink as you watch him go. 

-🌻🌻🌻🌻-

Eventually, the dull ache between your own thigh becomes too much, and you rise from your seat to go in search of your lovely partner. Weaving in and out of the crowd of people, you find him quickly, and his eyes practically sparkle as he sees you. 

He walks over to you in quick strides, a bashful smile on his face. 

“Are we leaving?” 

“Yes, baby.” You tell him, heart alight with affection as he grins widely at you and laces his fingers with yours. “Let’s go home.” 

“Fucking finally.” 

The drive back to yours and Josh’s shared home isn’t particularly a long one, but it feels like years have passed before you’re finally pulling into the driveway. Josh had been silent in the passenger seat, hands clenched into fists at his sides and his plush bottom lip between his teeth. 

You climb out of the car, and the two of you make your way to the front door. Josh walks in front of you, opening the door for you like the gentlemen that he is. 

“Thank you, baby.” You tell him, stepping inside and immediately slipping your heels off. Breathing a sigh of relief, you walk further into the house. Josh follows behind as you make your way up to the bedroom. 

Entering the room lit only by a salt lamp and a floor lamp, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching as Josh makes his way into the room. 

He walks over to the middle of the room, arms hanging loosely at his sides, and a fire in his eyes as he looks at you. 

“Something you need, Josh?” You ask him, a coy smile painting your lips. Why not tease him a little more?

“Babe, you know what I want.” He mutters, walking over to the side of the bed where you’re sitting and slotting himself between your legs. “Been wanting it all night.” 

“Yeah?” Your question lilts out in a breathless whisper. 

“Yeah.” He confirms, splaying his warm hands out on your thighs. 

“How bad?” 

“So bad, mama. So bad.” 

“You were so patient for me.” You tell him, running your hands up his sides. “Take your clothes off, Josh. I want to see you.” 

Obediently, he steps back and begins to strip. You watch in rapt attention as he undresses, until he’s standing there – naked and glorious, before you. 

You allow yourself a moment to stare at him. You admire the way his slim waist is accentuated by the dim light, and your mouth waters as your eyes rake up to his sharp jawline and gorgeous lips. 

He’s looking at you in that way that only he can – like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He’s looking at you in awe, almost as if he doesn’t feel worthy enough to gaze upon you. He’s more than worthy, a fact which you have, on numerous occasions, tried to convince him of. But in his mind, no one is worthy enough for you – not even him. 

At last, you allow your gaze to fall on his pretty cock, hard as a rock and leaking already. The tip rests just below his belly button, curving just slightly and flushed red with need. 

“It hurts.” He tells you, lip sticking out in a pout. 

“I know, baby.” You say in sympathy, noting the way his entire body seems to tremble – tensed and eager to fulfill whatever command you give him. The power you hold over him in this moment makes your core weep and throb with want. 

You rip your dress over your head, tossing it to the floor before turning your attention back to Josh. His eyes have come to rest on your breasts, eyeing them through the lace of your bra. 

“You’ve been such a good boy tonight, Josh.” You praise, sliding backwards in the bed and leaning up against the pillows. “Can you be patient just a little longer for me?” 

“Anything.” He breathes out, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“I need you to make me cum, baby. And then I’ll give you whatever you want.” You spread your legs wide, allowing him to see the damp spot on your cotton panties. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Whatever you want, mama. I’ll make you cum. Wanna make you feel good.” 

“Come here, then.” 

The bed dips as he climbs onto it, crawling his way over to you and settling between your legs. He leans down, pressing his nose to your panties and inhaling deeply. Almost as if in a frenzy, he dips his fingers into the waistband and yanks them down your legs. You kick them off to the side, not even bothering to see where they went. 

Josh descends onto your cunt, licking a stripe up through your slick folds – drawing a loud moan from you. Expertly, he swirls the tip of his tongue around your clit, knowing exactly what to do to drive you absolutely crazy. Relentlessly, he swirls your swollen bud with his tongue, the feeling almost too much as he lavishes attention on you. His speed makes your eyes roll back in your head, his ministrations a mix between too much and not enough. 

You reach down and thread your fingers through the unruly curls on top of his head, tugging as he finally plunges his talented tongue into you. You whine and moan as he fucks you with it, his nose pressing into your clit perfectly. The sound of your wetness and his slurping is obscene – pornographic and loud in the otherwise silent room. He’s got both hands splayed on your thighs, and he groans into your cunt, sending delicious vibrations through you. 

Josh is nothing if not eager to please, and it doesn’t take long for the coil in your belly to tighten, warmth spreading through you at a rapid pace. 

“Fuck, just like that.” You command him, as he takes turns between suckling on your swollen clit and fucking into you with his tongue. “You’re so good, Josh. So fucking good.” 

He moans at your praise and the feeling sends you hurtling over the edge, drenching his face in your release as your entire body shakes with pleasure. 

Sitting up, you watch as Josh licks his lips. The light reflects on your juices that are smeared across his chin. 

“Fucking hell, you’re so good at that.” 

His eyes glimmer and he opens his mouth to retort but you interrupt him. 

“If you say ‘vocalist’s tongue’ one more time, I’m gonna slap you.” 

He grins, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“You and I both know it’s true.”

“Come here, baby.” You say, beckoning for him to switch places with you. He crawls up to you and settles into the pillows, allowing you to toss one leg over his waist to straddle him. 

“Please, mama. I’ve been so patient. Please.”

“Yes, you have. You’ve been such a good boy. And what do good boys get?”

He takes a stuttering breath. 

“Good boys get a reward.” 

You nod at him, sliding downwards on his hips to settle between his legs, leaving a trail of your slick as you do so. 

“That’s right, Josh. And now you get yours.”

Slowly, you lick a stripe up his cock, tracing the vein that runs on the underside of him. You flick your tongue over the head, tasting the saltiness of his precum. He tosses his head back in response, mouth dropping open in pleasure. Delicately, you press a kiss to his tip, just barely pressing your tongue into his slit. He gasps, arching his back as his entire body tenses. 

“Fuck.” He stutters out, as you sink your mouth down around him. You swallow him down, relaxing your jaw and breathing through your nose as you allow him to hit the back of your throat. You press your tongue into him and hollow your cheeks as you start to bob up and down on him, taking him as deep as you possibly can. He really has been so good for you, and you want nothing more than to return the favor. 

Blindly, you reach out and find his hand, bringing it towards you to rest in your hair. Josh takes the hint, threading his fingers through it and guiding you down on him, allowing him to fuck into your mouth. 

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes and your jaw aches, but you persist, focusing on breathing through your nose as he seeks out his release. 

“Oh fuck, baby. Shit.” He whines through gritted teeth, eyes scrunched shut in pleasure. “Gonna cum. Feels so fucking good.” He tries to pull away from you, unwilling to allow himself to finish yet – no doubt wanting this to last longer. But you stop him by pressing your forearm over his hips, keeping him grounded as you start to bob your head again, this time taking him so deep that your nose presses into the soft hair at his base. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m cumming!” His moans and wails are like music to your ears, and just like that he’s spilling down your throat. You greedily swallow it all down, before pulling off him with a lewd pop. 

“You sound so pretty when you cum.” You tell him, licking your lips. “You taste even better.” 

He blushes, suddenly bashful – just as he often becomes in the bedroom. For someone who normally seems so confident – and for someone who’s just had his dick down your throat, his shyness seems silly. But it's just another facet of Josh that makes you love him even more. His timidness is endearing, and is so specifically Josh that if you think about it too hard, you’ll start getting emotional. 

You sit up more, leaning upwards so that you can kiss him. He parts his lips, allowing you to slide your tongue into his mouth, exploring and tasting him. You remain there a moment, before detaching your lips from his, pressing hot kisses down his jawline that you love so much. 

“No marks.” He warns, turning his head up to give you access anyway. 

“You have a makeup team.” You say into his sweaty skin. “Plus, I don’t care if anyone sees. Want them to know who you belong to.” 

At that, you feel his cock twitch against your thigh, hardening again at your words. 

“Oh?” You say, sitting back on your haunches and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “You like that? When I call you mine?” 

He whines, and his dark, lust-blown eyes gaze upon you – filled to the brim with renewed need and desire. 

“Yeah. So much, mama. M’all yours.” 

“I know you are.” 

You reattach your lips to his neck, kissing down the hollow of his throat before going lower. You wrap your lips around his right nipple, sinking your teeth into the delicate flesh and drawing a breathy moan from him. 

“Y/n?” He asks suddenly, his tone a little more serious than before. You stop, sitting up to look at his pretty face. 

“Yes, baby? Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I just-” He stops himself, biting his lip and you can see him battling with himself. 

“You know you can tell me anything baby.” 

“I know. I just don’t know how to say it.”  

You cock your head to the side, waiting. You don’t want him to feel pressured into speaking, but his trepidation is setting you on edge slightly. 

“I want-” he sighs, “I want you to fuck me.” 

Your eyes widen and a fresh wave of slick gushes from you. 

“I- are you sure?” You ask him, timid in the face of his own hesitation. 

“I’m sure. I’ve been wanting it for days, I just… I didn’t know how to ask for it.” 

“Oh, sweet boy.” You coo, swiping your hand over his forehead, brushing his sweaty curls off of his skin. “Is that what had you so worked up tonight? Wanting me to fuck you but you were too afraid to ask?”

He nods, closing his eyes in embarrassment. 

“Don’t ever be embarrassed over what you want. I’m more than willing to give it to you.”

He opens his eyes at you, and the look in his eyes is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. 

“I want it, mama. I want it. Please give it to me.”

You see the change overtake him – like a switch has been flipped. Generally, the two of you switch up who’s in control depending on the day. And Josh’s neediness for you today had been nothing out of the ordinary. 

But right now, as he pleads with you to give him what he so desperately needs, there’s something more. It’s a headspace you’ve only seen him in once before – months ago when you’d first broached the topic with him. He’d asked you to finger him, timid and so afraid it had made your heart hurt. You’d obliged, and you’d assured him over and over that you weren’t put off by his desires. If anything, you enjoyed giving it to him more than he enjoyed receiving it. Afterwards, the two of you had gone online together to pick out a strap on that Josh liked. You’d kissed him all over and told him that you would enjoy anything so long as it gave him pleasure, and he’d hit the ‘order now’ button. It had arrived quickly, but had since remained untouched and unmentioned. Weeks passed without him saying anything, so you hadn’t said anything either – afraid to push him too far. 

But now, here he is, needy and desperate for it. He’s looking at you with complete trust, confident enough in your love for him that he’ll let you take care of him the way he needs it – absent of any judgment. Shaking yourself from your thoughts as you feel tears beginning to brim in your eyes, you lean over to the bedside table and open the top drawer. 

You pull the toy out, the glossy black plastic reflecting the dim light. Josh’s eyes track its movement as you bring it over to you. You flick your eyes to meet his, giving him one more chance to change his mind. 

“I’m sure.” He tells you, reading the unspoken question in your gaze. “Fuck me, mama. I want you to fuck me.” 

“Anything you want, baby.” 

With shaky hands, you slip into the strap – slow and deliberate as you secure it around yourself. Once it’s on, you slide the straps of your bra down, unclipping it and tossing it to the floor. 

Josh watches you, eyes dark and lips shiny with spit. His chest is flushed a gorgeous red and his golden skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat. As you turn your attention back to his face, he allows his legs to fall apart, leaving himself on full display for you. Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight – suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the beautiful creature that lays before you, open and completely trusting in you. 

You crawl up to him, the plastic cock bouncing obscenely as you move. You grab a bottle of lube from the nightstand and squirt a generous amount over your fingers. 

“You ready, Josh? For me to take care of you?” You whisper, settling between his thick thighs. 

He nods feverishly, chest heaving. 

Slowly, you circle his rim with your finger, messaging the tight ring of muscle. You study his face as you press one finger into him. The heat of him envelopes your mind in a lust-drunk haze, the breathy whine that falls from his lips makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” You tell him, carefully stretching him inch by inch. 

“Don’t stop!” He whines, mouth falling open as you add another finger. “God, don’t fucking stop.” 

You scissor your fingers in him, focusing on the sounds that fall from his pretty lips and on the way his facial expressions shift with each movement of your fingers. He’s beautiful like this, completely spread out for you as you prep him. 

“More.” He stutters out between heavy breaths, squirming and whining as you comply. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. So pretty for me, Josh.” 

The sight of him, awash and lost to pleasure is affecting you more than you thought it would, and you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You want nothing more than to reach down and give yourself some relief, but you abstain – instead focusing all of your attention on Josh’s pleasure. Tonight, you want this to be about him. He’s always so giving in bed, and he deserves to be spoiled. 

You pull your fingers from him and he sighs at your absence. You wipe your fingers on the bedsheets before reaching for the bottle of lube. You coat the strap in it, wanting to ensure that he’s not uncomfortable at all. 

Glancing up at you through half lidded eyes, Josh whines quietly in his chest. 

“Fuck me, baby. Please. I’m so ready for it.” 

“Ssshhh.” You shush him, lining your plastic cock up with his entrance. “You don’t have to beg, sweet boy. I’m going to take care of you. You know I will. Just be patient.”

Finally, you slowly sink into him, and you bite back your own moan as his beautiful noises hit your ears. They’re breathy, practically a whine – needy in a way you’ve never heard from him before. You sink to the hilt and pause, allowing him to adjust to the stretch, still slightly afraid of hurting him or going too fast. 

He squirms beneath you, beginning to delicately rock his hips to meet yours, fucking himself lightly on your fake cock. 

“Move, mama. Need you to move.” He grips the sheets in his fists, hands clenched so tight that his knuckles have turned white. 

You oblige, beginning to rock your hips into him at a steady pace and he groans loudly in response. 

“Look at you.” You mutter, more to yourself than to him. He’s the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. “Feel good, baby?” 

“Feels so good.” He moans, voice turning pitchy. You place your palms on the bed on either side of him, caging him in and bracing yourself to fuck into him harder. 

“Fuck, please touch me.” He begs you, eyes completely screwed shut. 

“Not yet, sweet boy. Be patient just a little longer longer. I’ll get you there.” 

Selfishly, you don’t want this to end yet. Seeing him like this, completely lost in the throes of pleasure – pleasure that you alone are giving him, is like a drug. His moans and whines are addictive, lighting a fire in your veins as you fuck into him without mercy. His cock is red and leaking, angry and neglected as it bobs between the two of you. You’ll relieve him soon enough, but you allow yourself a moment longer to revel in this feeling. 

You pull completely out of him for a moment, ignoring his groan of displeasure as you hook your palms behind his knees, pressing them up to his chest so that he’s practically bent in half. You thrust back into him, and the new position allows you to slip even deeper into him. You can’t feel it, but you can only imagine how tight he must feel. As soon as you bottom out again, Josh’s mouth hangs open in a silent scream. You’re almost afraid he’s in pain, but his hand suddenly shoots out and wraps around your forearm tightly – his fingers pressing into your skin harshly. 

“Fuck, baby, right fucking there. Holy shit.” His words suddenly begin to slur together and you assume that with the new position, the toy must be brushing against his prostate – if the noises he’s making are anything to go by. His tiny whines have morphed into loud moans, and you’re thankful that the walls are thick. He’s never been this loud before, and your own desire at the sound of him threatens to overtake you completely. 

“Fuck, harder, harder.” He chants as you piston into him, your entire body begining to shake at the effort with which your fucking him. 

“M’gonna cum. Fuck!” He all but screams, and suddenly he’s finishing, shooting ropes of cum all across his taut stomach. You watch in awe as he cums completely untouched, and his orgasm seems to go on forever. You still in him, allowing him to come down from his high and back to the land of the living. 

His eyes blink open at you and a dopey, fucked out smile spreads across his lips. 

“Fuck, Josh,” you sigh out, “that was… the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He just mumbles at you, leaning his head back to rest on the pillow. 

“Gonna pull out now, okay?” 

He nods, and you slowly pull out from him. He hisses at the feeling, and stretches out his legs. You unclasp the strap from your waist and place it on the nightstand, before reaching down to grab his boxers from the floor. You carefully clean him up, being careful to not overstimulate him. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him, concern washing over you as he just lies there with his eyes closed, chest heaving. 

“More than okay. Fuck. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, baby. I love giving you what you want. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Always trust you.” He mumbles, sitting up and reaching for you. “Lemme return the favor, mama.” 

You swat his hand away and place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him backwards so that his back presses back into the pillows again. 

“Watching you was more than enough for me. Just want you to rest now.”

He frowns at you, but you just give him a soft smile before pressing your lips to his for a sweet kiss. 

“Another time, baby. Tonight was about you. Let’s go draw you a bath. How does that sound?” You rise from the bed, reaching your arms out to help him up. 

“Sounds nice,” He says tiredly. 

He goes to stand, but his knees buckle as soon as he tries to straighten. You quickly wrap your arms around his waist, helping him to carry his weight. You giggle. 

“Damn, you really did a number on me, huh?” He asks you through his own quiet laughter. 

“You were just so patient for me, baby. You deserved a reward.” 

-----------

If you're reading this, I love you! <3

Taglist:

@ignite-my-fire

@demolitionndann

@brujamagik

@mybussyinchrist

Let me know if you'd like to be added to/removed from my taglist 💗

[thatseventiesbitch]

A while ago I found a good deal on some That '70s Show scripts, and I impulsively bought them! See below for a detailed breakdown of what is different between the table read script and what actually aired.

Next up: S2xE22 "Jackie Moves On" (note that it is episode 221 on the script 👀... production order vs airing order). There were a lot of changes/re-writes in this episode! See below for details.

The Production Schedule for the week:

(Just thought this ^ was fascinating!)

First difference: the entire cold open! I wonder why it was re-written. 🧐

In the episode that aired, the cold open starts with Eric and Donna entering the basement together, and the rest of the gang (except Jackie) is already there. They jump into the same conversation about how Jackie isn't doing well, but with different dialogue.

The scenes are extremely similar and end up in the same place - with Fez's ninja warrior fantasy. The Eric/Donna fan in me loves the little moment between them that's written here & wishes it stayed, though! Eric loves the way Donna smells after a bath, *lol*. (This is a continued characterization! He made similar comments to her in That Disco Episode in season 1...)

The next scene, in the Forman kitchen, is slightly different too. Eric and Laurie's banter is different:

And the kids discuss what they will do for dinner that night while Red and Kitty are at Frenchie's. Red's mom's necklace isn't brought up at all in this scene (unlike in the actual episode)! He just mentions breaking out the nice jewelry.

Red & Kitty's next scene, when they head out to dinner, is different. I like Red's little fantasy at the beginning, where he seems to be talking to himself in the mirror and imagining how their evening out will go. 🤣

Hyde and Laurie's next scene is slightly different, too. It's not pictured here, I'm just going to summarize it. Hyde remarks that his dinner of frank and beans was good and hearty, but that Laurie only ate a few bites of toast and some water. They exchange slightly different burns, but it leads to the same moment: Eric coming in and Hyde and Laurie teaming up to burn him.

Next up is Fez's scene in the restaurant with Jackie (also different!). Here are the changed parts:

The next scene (not pictured), with the 4 guys in the basement, is slightly different as well but wasn't noteworthy enough to screenshot. The scene ended up in the same place - Eric inadvertently reveals his childhood summer camp nickname (Dr. Pee Pee) and when Kelso burns him, he reveals Kelso's (Big Chief Brown Bottom). 😆

Red and Kitty's next scene (not pictured) is pretty similar: they're back from dinner but Kitty is upset Red keeps bringing up his mother's necklace (they call it a turtle pendant in this draft of the script). She eventually reveals she pawned it, and she doesn't feel bad because she used it for groceries. Red exits and she immediately tells Eric she actually feels very bad. Eric asks if she had a lot of wine at dinner and she says more than she should've, *lol*.

Jackie and Donna's scene on the front porch is almost identical - including Jackie's fantasy about turning into the blueberry girl from Charlie And The Chocolate Factory - until this part:

The next scene is with the guys & Laurie in the basement - again, very similar, but some slight changes. I laughed out loud at a few of these cut lines!

Red & Kitty's last scene (not pictured) is very similar to the final version. Kitty apologizes to him, Red forgives her, and they both discuss how they did what they had to do to make ends meet as a family but that thankfully things are much better now. The scene ends with them deciding to go back to the pawn shop and reclaim their stuff *lol*

The final scene with the gang on the driveway is again different! Jackie shows up and she's back to her normal self, but she doesn't pull Fez aside for their little chat. There's also another cut Eric/Donna moment 😭 And a little Jackie/Hyde/(Kelso) one, methinks 👀

The credits are the same - Eric is napping on the couch and Laurie puts his hand in warm water and says "Sweet dreams, Dr. Pee Pee."

So, in conclusion - almost every scene in this table read draft script was different from what actually aired in the episode. The general spirit of the scene was always the same, but a lot of lines were changed from this script to what ultimately aired. I wonder why that was! And I wonder how that worked, logistically. It appears they did the Table Read on Monday and shot the episode on Friday (some scenes earlier, actually, because of pre-shoots). That's not a lot of time for the cast to re-learn all of their lines! Show biz, baby.

Stay tuned for more That '70s Show original script reviews with me, your host, @thatseventiesbitch 😀

Other Scripts I've Posted:

S2xE20 "Kiss of Death" S2xE26 "Moon Over Point Place" S5xE21 "Trampled Under Foot" S7xE8 "Angie"

[ragnar0c]

Sort of rambling about writing plans... instead of writing. Rambling is a good warm up for my writing, probably . *^____^*

First big oos arc is about 15 chapters if I stay focused. I'd really like to finish that at some point (NOT SOON) But like... >.> within a year or two. 15 chapters minus the first 3, so really I only need 12. And I write about 3.5k word chapters with some margins of less or more. So I'd need like nearly 40k words.

Good news! I technically have most of this written! 30k words piled up on my test fic on toyhouse. Is it coherent.....? No! I have to focus on filling parts in and there is a bit of a shortage, 10k words that I'm probably going to assign to the chapters that are supposed to be there but aren't (Chapters 9 and 10 are hardly written and will probably be long enough to fill it all up methinks.)

Trying to outline the arc before I get into writing the harder chapters so I can foreshadow it.

I think chapters 4 and 5 should be done around the same time, so would 6 and 7. Struggling with 4 and 5, but I'm pretty sure chapters 6 and 7 will come really fast (aka not a full 6 months after 4 and 5) bc I've been looking forward to them ever since I started. Tho the art for chapter 6 might take a bit....

Chapter 8 will be released by itself because chapter 9 will take me a long time, so will chapter 10....

As for the 11- 15. The drafts are really rough, but I'm sure once I have the 10th chapter (the most important one in the arc besides 15) things will align.

Chapter 15 will be a solid ending for it all... I'm sure of it. I really love the chapter end and it answers a big question I've teased... You will love it.

After I finish that later. Much later. I think I could take a break and outline more? The next big arc should only be shorter before the eo3 plot hits... Depends on my mood. I'd really like to hit the phase where I can write comfortably... But I wouldn't call it writers block... but I still have some bumps to figure out.

[justablah56]

*sighs* tell me about your fursona /lh /pos

ok first off- Vik is that you 👁️👁️ you're the only one who I know has seen my fursona recently sbjsjdjs either that or it's rae who saw it on your blog and didn't interact w it so I wouldn't think it was him if they went on anon lmao- but methinks its vik

okay now I'm gonna actually answer- bUT INSERT THAT ONE ENTRAPTA MEME- THE "IVE WAITED Y E A R S FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT MY THEORIES" YEAH THATS ME RN- anon I am looking at you with my big ol autistic eyes that are sparkling with this 10 minute unstoppable rant that is about to occur (✧⁠ω⁠✧⁠)

SO ! ampen right ? my little guy ? my baby girl ? my beloved ? I'm gonna talk mostly abt their physical design than their other details bcs I have more notes abt their physical appearance than anything :]

I have no idea what they are, I kinda just started drawing her abhdjsjsj but I think the two most notable animals he could conceivably be are probably a fox and a dragon of some sort (original I know) however I do want to give an honorable mention to my first draft of them, bcs goddamn I changed a lot abt her bsjdhsjjs. at first he was just completely a dog but I decided to give them those 3 fingered claw/hoof things, here's the very sketchy guy herself who inspired Ampen:

yeah snndjsn basically the only thing that stayed the same was the vague color scheme and the "hooves" changed from the hands to the feet. a lot of ampens physical design was just cool things I saw in other fursuits that I thought would be cool, like I just loooove the hoof feet, they look v cool and I just like them a lot, so I included them ! (I didn't in my first real drawing of ampen but then I did on their character sheet) same with the tail, I'm p sure at the time of ampens actual creation I had recently seen a dragon fursuit with that kind of tail and was obsessed with it, I tried so many different tails for him and none of them were looking quite right until I tried their current tail, and I love it . the dragon bit also comes out in her muzzle, it's a bit more pointed and sharp than a canine muzzle would be, again mostly just bcs I think it looks neat :] and I knew I wanted my fursona to have big ol ears from the very beginning, I didn't put them on ampen-rough-draft bcs I didn't start with the intent for him to be my fursona sbjdjdjs but anyways- the fur pattern took me a while to come up with, I started with just vague splotches of color in random spots, messed around with specific colors, I don't think I decided on the pink stitch mark things until like- the very end dnjsjjd I have no idea where I came up with it , I was just trying random things and hoping they looked right lmao-

I gave them glasses bcs . I have glasses . and I think it's cute and there aren't enough furrys with glasses :3 then added the piercings bcs I think they look cool and that's really it bajshjejskwks

anyways , now for the couple things that aren't visible on a drawing, I imagine her being like 5'4 MAX , he's pretty short . mostly bcs I am v short and plan to actually make ampen, and that's a height I could realistically get to accounting for the ears hdjwjdjjejdke anyways, I don't really have many other little facts about them since they're basically just me personality-wise, so make of that what you will ! I will however GLADLY answer more specific questions if you (or anyone else 👀) have them bcs it will give me an excuse to come up with answers abhdjsjdjsjjd

anyways- this is all to say that I'm in love with Ampens design and I really should draw him more often and also probably just develop them more tbh- BUT ! ty v much anon for enabling me to ramble about Ampen, they're my most specialest little guy and I love her <33

[growling]

ThunderClan family tree draft 1, part 1: Firekin

Gonna do separate trees for all the different TC families, since I tried and can assure you that just isn't really possible without making it look like a mess. I had this one done for quite a while but forgot to post it oof. Anyway, Firestar's line. He and his direct descendants are highlighted in orange -- Cloudtail doesn't count as firekin but I still put him there.

Firestar and Sandstorm aren't mates, just really good friends who both wanted kits. Besides, Fire is aro and gay as hell, and Sand's aroace.

(Sandstorm and Longtail's parents are Redtail (who is not trans) and Runningwind. Longtail was either from an older litter or aged down to be an apprentice in ITW)

Dewnose is shuffled over to another parents, there was no need for BrightCloud to have 4 kids

Ivypool doesn't have a mate she doesn't need one she is perfectly capable of fucking up her kids on her own

Lionblaze is transmasc, and Cinderheart is a vaguely cis lesbian that actually respects herself, so he needs a new partner to raise his million kittens with. I mean he could be a single dad but Lion strikes me as a person that needs another guy to make out with thrice a day in order to keep going. Leaning more towards Toadstep, Icecloud was also an option since he was implied (or just stated?) to also have a little crush on Lion as an apprentice, but he's also transmasc so idk about the lionkin babies, plus I feel like he grew out of it pretty quickly and doesn't really care about Lion that way anymore.

Anyway, regarding the ToadLion kids: Sorrelstripe got shuffled over to another family, Fernsong is a single dad of Myrtle and Bay now. Snap and Fly can stay as Lion's kids because they left TC and thus cannot fuck up the tree's gene pool anymore.

Sparkpelt's mate will either remain Larksong, or be changed to Stormcloud, depending on whether it may fuck up the tree (one again) when I get around to picking Lark's parents. Plus, Stormcloud is clean and can be basically any cat's parent.

Anyway toodles gamers we're doing the TC Tigerkin (and related) later methinks

[kalims]

I FORGOT TO SPECIFY THE CHILDE X DEVIL HUNTER but yes relationship hcs!! he would be pretty protective methinks

✉ ⋮ this has been on my drafts for like a month and I'm so sorry 😭 also during that time I literally finished chainsaw man and in the middle of reading I was like... wtf they actually died...

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

fluff, death.

actually very balanced, if you're either quiet and composed or easy going and talkative nothing's really gonna change, childe's gonna end up balancing your personality with his. eventually being able to let you become comfortable enough in his presence because I'd personally think that he's quite the gentleman, an airhead but he's thoughtful.

he's obsessed with the thought of protecting you, nothing creepy or something like that but there's this thrill that he finds exhilarating about keeping you protected in his arms while he fights the impeccable danger.

In a way he views it as a little fairytail, a strong warrior protecting his cute spouse.

speaking of, both of you somehow exclude the aura of literal power. It's quite terrifying to experience it first hand, with his reputation along with the chilling rumors. There's no doubt that some people are terrified of childe, now combined with him oozing out authority? scary.

now now, childe isn't against the idea of two sparring lovers. with him constantly seeking out strong fighters to challenge his power it's only in due time before he asks you to fight him. to him, it's quite romantic for a couple to engage in a friendly spar.

since he's a harbinger, he's a formidable opponent. quick on his feat but reckless, the trait would be an opening but his brute force and concentration is something to reckon with.

but since practically no one in tevyat has seen humans/devil hunters with contracts or even know of them at all, he's bound to be taken off guard by the large being that suddenly appeared out of seemingly nowhere. staring at him with intimidating eyes.

his first instict was to assume that this bigass snake was trying to consume you whole so he starts shouting in alarm, he's confused when you calm him down with a deadpan.

NOW, he's more willing to fight you seriously knowing that you're perfectly able to fend out for yourself and even defeat him but he hasn't thought of that because he's in denial. 👻

upset by the fact that you merely fight him with no vision nor powers whatsoever. tartaglia constantly pesters you to use or, summon the weird snake again but you always wave him off with a grim look. though and peeved by the fast denial, he knows that secrets are trifling matters. so he knows where you draw a line.

you'd think that he'll be the one protecting you but it's actually the other way around, protective devil hunter reader?? ☺️😚

basically, both of y'all are willing to do things that are way out of your comfort zones to prevent the other from harm's way and thus this is the pillar that holds the relationship as a somewhat healthy one.

thinks very hard 💡

since both of your occupations(?) are dangerous ones that require a lot of time, it's probably a rare occurrence to stay together for more than two or three hours. this challenges the relationship, will both of you stay together with minimum contact or leave? that's basically up to you and your character!

honestly just depends, you're already with him. you know the consequences but you still stayed with him so you're stuck with him bitch.

oh well, as a harbinger the constant demands of the tsaritsa are no matter to ignore. as much as you dislike it, he's pledged himself to her. the only way you'll be someone that he puts above the tsaritsa is when he's absolutely sure that he wants to spend the rest of his (depressing) life with.

and you, you're a devil hunter that's also occupied with the matters of your mysterious job. with the people of tevyat knowing not a lot of stuff about devils, it's completely also up to you to let them be or exterminate the devils yourself. swallows some random devil with ur huge snake

while we're on that topic, he's albeit worried and a little curious when you come home, deep in the night with bandages wrapped around your hand, sometimes even random body parts.

^ he doesn't know how to react when you admit the details of the 'contract'. when you brought up contracts, he assumed you were some kind of merchant from liyue but the fact that you're wearing a suit doesn't add up. once he questioned you and the only reply he got was "dress code."

unfortunately, there will be a time where the tsaritsa eventually hears word about a mysterious traveler with the power to summon a 'monster entity' as they put it. so if you were unable to make yourself special to him. he will spill out everything needed, he'd leave out a few details but it's pretty much the origins and stuff.

butttt otherwise, he'll try to cover up for you as much as he can. to him it'll always be 'family over duty'.

oh boy, when he finally gets to see you in action? hoo boy, you gained his respect! childe finds it attractive that you can defeat a hoard of treasure hoarders from combat experience alone, according to you. a small percentage of the public safety don't have contracts, some being contracts useless in combat.

plus, the price was really painful. you didn't want your literal finger nails being taken away again. but you're a little weirded out about it having some kind of favoritism to nails. oh well, you're used to it already. devils were unpredictable.

pda doesn't really matter, you're fine with anything since if someone wanted to call you out or something, a sharp glance to their way already has them silenced. tartaglia however is quite... shameless, as a harbinger he's got high authority. a smart person wouldn't really dare to try and criticize anything about the two of you. it's yours and his business alone.

he surprisingly gets used to the snake, with my limited knowledge of contracts let's say summoning them technically doesn't count as using their power so there's no price needed. most of the time you just summon the snake to intimidate the opposing party.

mf be so friendly with the devil while it just ignores him 😭

idk man, I already forgot a few details 🧍🏾‍♀️

[ethvn-torchio]

Can't Stop Staring At Those Ocean Eyes | Anidala Oneshot

(hey here's some Anidala fluff nobody asked for!!)

Can't Stop Staring At Those Ocean Eyes | Anidala Oneshot

Warnings: discussion of pregnancy, otherwise it's just fluff with some angst sprinkled in idk

(it's honestly just pillow talk-y fluff let's be real)

She settles in his arms, a welcome respite from the cold night air drafting in through the window.

"Anakin...if we chose to have children, how many would you want?" She asks, tracing lazy patterns across his bare chest, absentmindedly tracing a fresh scar.

"I dunno,” He answers honestly. “I suppose I don't mind kids. Some of the younglings at the temple are nice enough...except that Grogu," he adds with a grumble. "I suppose I wouldn't mind one of my own. Why do you ask?"

"I still don't understand why you let yourself get harassed by toddlers," Padmé giggles.

"Don't laugh!" Anakin pouts. "Grogu and his...toddler clique stole my lightsaber earlier," he appends with a grimace.  

Padmé, meanwhile, attempts to stifle her laughter. The mental image of Anakin being bullied by a bunch of toddlers was thoroughly entertaining.

"Okay...but seriously, why are you asking? Is everything okay?" Anakin asks, genuinely concerned. 

She sighs, locking eyes with him. "Don't panic, but my cycle is late. Don't get excited though, it's probably nothing. It just...made me think, you know?" She says softly, letting her mind wander. She could almost see it now - a child that was a perfect mix of the both of them. 

"Oh," is all he can say. How was he supposed to react? Padmé could be pregnant. “But it’s probably nothing, right?”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s fine,” she responds smoothly. "Don't let this...hang over your head. It's fine, I'm sure. You watch, I'll get it tommorow or something," she chuckles lightly.

"So...it's not for certain? We're okay, then?" He asks, unable to hide a bit of anxiousness in his voice.

"Mmm-hmm," she pauses, trying to think of something to change the subject. "Hey, are you going back to the Temple tomorrow or tonight?"

She can feel him relax a bit at the distraction. "Probably early tomorrow morning. I'll be gone by the time you wake up. We ship out for Cato Neimoidia tomorrow afternoon, and then after that, we're going to Anaxes. But I bet you I'll be back soon, I don't see either of these campaigns taking long."

"I sure hope," Padmé yawns. "I hate how often you're gone. It seems more than usual lately," she snuggles closer, holding him one last time. "I wish I didn't have to go to sleep,"

I know," he responds with a sigh. "I'll be back, I promise."

"Promise?" She asks.

"Yeah, I promise." He kisses the top of her head gently, wishing he could be there when she wakes. 

Sadly, that was a luxury neither of them had.

"I could leave, you know," he blurts. "I would do anything you asked if it made you happy." he says, earnestly, grasping her hand.

"I...you don't mean that, Anakin. The Jedi need you. The clones need you. The Republic itself needs you! You can't leave,"

"But I would," he presses on. "I would. Say the word and I'll leave it all behind."

His deep blue eyes are boring into her soul; nearly asking her to say it. 

"I..." she trails off. She knew that all she had to do was ask him to leave, to leave all of his responsibilities behind - and if she asked, he would leave it all behind in a heartbeat.

Something flickered in Anakin's eyes: he could feel her wavering resolve, but he remained silent. 

It didn't matter, anyway; she couldn't bring herself to do it. It was selfish, and it wasn't how it was meant to be - at least for now, anyway.

..But was it really selfish to want a normal life?

Perhaps it wasn't. They had both known the repercussions; they knew what was going to happen if they pursued a relationship. 

Resolutely, she decides she can't say it. It wasn't fair of her to ask him to abandon what he had worked most of his life for, even if he would just for her. "...I love you, Ani." she finally says. 

He sighs contently, pulling her closer. "I love you too," he says without hesitation.

"Would you be..." He pauses, attempting to figure out how to word his question. "Would you be upset? If you weren't pregnant, I mean."

"I'd be more relieved if anything, but...it would be nice though, huh?" She murmurs quietly as she gently lets her fingertips trace a scar on his side. "A little version of you and me running around."

He laughs at that. "I don't think you'd want a mini-Anakin running around." 

"Maybe not," She snorts. "But you know what I mean, right? A little baby...the perfect combo of you and I." her hand unthinkingly moves to her lower abdomen. 

"Yeah, I know what you're saying," he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Sounds scary, if you ask me," he half-jokes.

"And so I've found the one thing the 'hero with no fear' is scared of," she teases. 

"Oh, yeah?" He tickles her side in retaliation, making her squirm as she tries not to laugh. 

"Anakin!" She manages to squeal, even as she finally gives in and attempts to wiggle away from him. He kisses the side of her head gently before letting her go. 

"Okay, okay, I'll give you your space," he says with a grin. "I win."

She tilts her head. "Is that so?" before Anakin can react, she darts her hands out to his sides, attacking him with relentless tickles. 

Anakin quickly realizes that she's fighting dirty, tickling him near his ribs and trying to keep him from retaliating, but to no avail. “Hey, no fair!”

"No fair?" She replies. "You started it!"

Anakin tries to bat Padmé’s hands away, but nearly falls off the bed while doing so.

She stops for a second, “Oh...whoops.” She mutters, before she realizes she's gotten the high ground in this situation. “Ha! Gotcha. I win."

"Okay, okay! You've made your point!" He says, laughing as he gets back on the bed.

They sit in comfortable silence for a minute, before finally, Padmé yawns once again, settling into his embrace as they wordlessly lie down. "I... I'll miss you, Ani." She breathes.

"You know I can't stay away for long, Padmé. And before you know it, this war will be over. I promise you." His hands trail through her hair, tracing soothing lines along her scalp. 

She sighs, her eyes growing heavy. "And once it's over...we can be free then. We could go to Naboo," she says dreamily. "Maybe then, we could start a family." 

"Yeah," Anakin agrees. "I like that," 

That night, Padmé goes to sleep dreaming of what could be. Maybe, she really was pregnant. Maybe, the war would be over soon and they could go back to Naboo.

She knew the perfect spot at the lake house for a baby's room.

In her mind's eye, she could see picnics, could see her and Anakin teaching their child to swim, could see a future that wasn't so full of war and chaos and stress. 

Their relationship wasn't normal; it wasn't the typical relationship you'd see with normal couples who could freely be in love. 

Perhaps someday, things would be different. Perhaps someday, they could get that happy ending on Naboo.

But for now, it was little moments like this that made it all the more worth it.

-----------

mini taglist this time!!! @thereblogcrusader @haydens-moles because frankly they were the only ones I can think of atm that noticed my other fluff fic so yEah, also @anidalalover99 would enjoy this methinks :v

comment or rb if you enjoyed idk y'all know the drill and I'm frankly exhausted bcs its 3:10 am so do what you wish

oh yeah I'm gifting this to @stillmourningtonystark bcs I read some of her fluff and it was just 🥺 it killed me and I was like "I need to write fluff now" so uh yeah check her out

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Tony Stark’s Guide to Being a Functional Adult

Step 4: More Basic Adulting (AO3)

“Tony? Did you run the dishwasher this morning?” Bucky asked in an odd voice.  The kind of voice that sounded like he already knew the answer but he just wanted Tony to admit guilt first before chewing him out.

“Uh, yeah?”  The bottom dropped out of Tony’s stomach as he and joined Bucky in the kitchen where he was staring down into the dishwasher. He looked at the dishwasher too but didn’t see a problem.  “Why?”

Bucky stared at him in disbelief.  “There’s like, five dishes in here.”

“It was my turn to do the dishes,” Tony said defensively.  “So I did them.”

“Well, yeah, thanks for that, but don’t run the dishwasher unless it’s full.  That’s a huge waste of water,” Bucky said slowly, making Tony feel like even more of an idiot.  “If you do that after every meal our water bill is going to be astronomical.”

“Oh. I didn’t think about that, I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you-” Bucky stopped and pressed his lips together into a thin line.  He closed his eyes, inhaled slowly and exhaled even more slowly.  “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I get these, you know, days where I feel really anxious and stressed out and it makes me…” he drummed his fingers on the counter. “Snappish, I guess. Pissy.”

Tony stared for a minute. “It’s okay,” he said, confused about why Bucky was apologizing.  Howard had never apologized, not even the time he had given Tony that scar on the bottom of his chin.  “I’ll do better next time, I promise”

“How about from now on, I load the dishwasher, and you do whatever is left in the sink and wipe down the counters?”

“Sure, yeah, sounds good.” He paused, watching Bucky as he started to grab the few dishes out of the dishwasher and said hesitantly, “Are you feeling stressed out right now?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”  Bucky’s movements were jerky and his shoulders were tight, so Tony put a hand on his arm.

“Hey, I’ll straighten this up,” he said, taking the plates from Bucky’s hands.  “Is there something you usually do when you feel like this?”

Bucky let him have the plates and sighed, leaning against the counter and running his hand through his hair.  “Yeah, my therapist gave me tips to deal with days like today.”

“Well, then go do what you need to do, I got this.  I’ll even open up the garage if you want, just come down when you’re ready.”

(More after the break!)

Bucky nodded gratefully and disappeared into his bedroom.  Tony put the dishes away and wiped everything down until he was pretty sure that even Jarvis would be impressed, then went down to the garage.

Tony opened up the big metal garage doors so he could hear and see the pounding of the rain outside; it had been the sound of the rain on Bucky’s roof that had woken him up that morning, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Tony felt at peace while he laid there and listened to it.  They didn’t have any cars in yet, so as Tony surveyed the shop he figured that if there was one thing he could clean properly, it was a garage, so he metaphorically rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a shop cloth, and got to work.  He made it halfway through the tool cabinet when his phone rang, so he wiped his hands on his jeans and answered. “Hey, Rhodey, what’s up?” he said cheerfully.

“Not much. How are you doing?  Sleeping in your car or did you find a place to stay?”

“I found a place to stay,” Tony said, straightening all the socket wrenches so they were lined up neatly according to size. “I found a guy renting out a room who also owns a garage, so I found a place to stay and a job all in one.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony could tell that Rhodey’s attention had been piqued by something from the way his tone sharpened. “Tell me about this guy.”

“Not much to say,” Tony said, suddenly wary.  He found a couple of lug wrenches leaning against the bench so he hung them up on the wall. “His name is Bucky and it’s his family’s business, he bought them out when he got out of the Army.”

“So he’s cute.”

“What?” Tony protested as he started separating the spanners from the adjustable wrenches. “I never said that.”

“You just did.  Methinks you are protesting too much.”

“Methinks you are an asshole,” Tony muttered.

“Let me guess. Is he tall?”

Tony sighed because he was so busted. “Yes.”

“Dark hair?”

“Yes.”

“And military, huh?”

“Ok, look, I don’t know where you are going with this-“

“Just saying, Tones, you have a type.”  Tony could hear Rhodey’s grin through the phone and he scowled.

“I never should have told you I had a crush on you in college,” Tony complained. “I take back all the nice things I’ve ever said about you.”

“Nah, you still love me.  So how’s everything else going?”

It wasn’t much more than a couple of hours before Bucky came downstairs to find Tony organizing and wiping down everything on the tool bench.  The radio was on, playing something soft and low, and Tony was humming along, swaying gently to the music. Bucky whistled, impressed by how nice the garage looked.

Tony looked up, and his smile made Bucky’s heart turn over in his chest.  Tony’s smile was rapidly becoming something that Bucky looked forward to every day. “Hey, Buck.  Feeling better?”

Bucky shrugged.  “Rainy days are usually not the best for me,” he said, trying and probably failing to sound casual.  “It was raining like this when, you know,” he gestured towards his empty sleeve.  For some reason, when Tony’s eyes went soft and sympathetic it made him feel understood, not patronized.  Perhaps because his look didn’t immediately turn to morbid curiosity.

“I’m sorry, B,” he said simply.  “I’m glad you’re feeling up to working today, but if you need to go back upstairs, I can-”

“No, I’m okay,” Bucky said, not wanting to seem like an invalid.  “I mean, a while ago I would have been spending all day in bed with a rainstorm like this, but it’s…” he wanted to say fine, but it wasn’t, really, he still couldn’t go out in the rain and listening to it drumming on the sidewalk was making the hair on the back of his neck rise.  “Better.”

Tony smiled at him and patted the now clean work bench.  “Have a seat, I made coffee,” he said, and he turned up the music so the rain didn’t seem quite as loud.

“You know how the Middle East gets these like, huge dust storms?” Bucky said as he accepted the cup from Tony.  “This one time while I was in Iraq we had a dust storm and a rain storm at the same time.”

“So it became a mud storm?”

“Yeah.  Raining mud.”  Bucky took a sip of coffee, eyes far away. “God, that was miserable. Mud in your clothes, your hair, the way you tracked it everywhere you went. You would go take a shower and be muddy again by the time you got back to your CHU.”

“Jesus, that sounds horrible,” Tony said, making a face.  “Must be kind of nice now, to be able to listen to it and know that you can stay inside, safe and warm and cozy.”

“That’s true,” Bucky said slowly. He hadn’t really thought about it that way before, but knowing that if the sound of the rain got to be too much he could go get on the couch under a blanket and know that someone was around to still take care of things actually made him feel better.  “Thanks.”

It didn’t take long for them to fall into a sort of easy rhythm of living together; Tony still screwed up basic chores sometimes, like using the sponge for the dishes to scrub the bathroom or putting dishwashing liquid in the dishwasher when they were out of the little dishwasher pods, and there was that one time the vacuum was making a weird sound so Bucky woke up one morning to find it completely disassembled in their living room, but Tony was grateful that Bucky never blew up at him about any of it. In return, trying to make up for the fact that Bucky had pretty much given him a whole new life, Tony tried to find ways to make things easier on Bucky around the house.  He repurposed a clamp from the garage to help Bucky open jars and mounted a shampoo dispenser in the bathroom when Bucky complained one night that he had accidentally dumped too much shampoo in his hair in the shower.

Mostly he puttered because he genuinely wanted to be helpful, but it didn't hurt that italso distracted him from the looming issue of his grad school application; the truth was, he’d lost all inspiration for the projects he’d been so excited about before.  Ironic for him to do all of this, the fight and moving out and everything, only for nothing to come of it because he couldn’t figure out what the hell to do for his proposal.

Tony stared fruitlessly at his computer, fisting his hands in his hair with frustration.   All of the ideas he’d had a month ago that seemed so rife with possibilities were just…blah. “Dammit,” Tony sighed.  At the corner of his draft paper he drew a stick figure with sunglasses and then drew a big missile flying at him and flames all around.

Just then Bucky knocked and said through the door, “There are new episodes of that cop show you like, do you want to watch it with me?”

“Sure, just a second,” Tony called back and shut his laptop.  He crammed the papers in his desk so he wouldn't have to look at them anymore and joined Bucky in the living room.

"I’m sorry, where you working?” Bucky asked as he came out, pushing the button on the microwave for popcorn.

“Only in theory,” Tony sighed as he grabbed two beers from the fridge.  “Still having problems with my application.” He’d complained about his lack of inspiration for his proposal enough times that he didn’t bother going through it again.

Bucky made a sympathetic face and said, “That sucks. Maybe some time off will help.”

“Can't hurt, I guess,” Tony said.  Bucky dumped the popcorn into a bowl and joined him on the couch as Tony hit play on the TV.  They didn’t talk much during the episode but the silence was comfortable, a far cry from the stilted few times that they’d hung out when Tony had first moved in.  

Glancing over halfway through the second episode, Tony realized that Bucky had fallen asleep leaning against the arm of the couch with his feet on the coffee table.  Tony smiled and leaned over to tuck the blanket over Bucky and settled back against the couch.  After the episode, the app automatically played another episode, this time from a different series.  Too lazy and comfortable to get up and get the remote, Tony was idly watching MacGyver when an idea occurred to him. He stilled and turned the idea over in his head, examining it from all angles.  “Holy shit,” he breathed. He carefully climbed off the couch so he wouldn’t wake up Bucky and tiptoed quickly to his room before the inspiration was gone.  Sometime in the middle of the night he came out for something to drink, shaking out his cramping hand, and noticed that Bucky must have gone to bed.  Finally, at the small hours of the morning, he put his pencil down and flipped through the pages and pages of schematics and diagrams and notes with satisfaction.   Not only would the new arc reactor design turn the clean energy market on its head, but Howard hadn’t made any breakthroughs on it in decades so when Tony showed him up he was going to look like a real asshole. Bonus.

“Wakey, wakey,” Tony said, knocking on Bucky’s door. When he answered, looking adorably sleep-rumpled and kind of grumpy, his heart flipped and he knew he probably had a stupid look on his face, but at this point he was too proud of himself to care. “I made you an omelet,” he said, presenting the plate to Bucky. “Took me three hours, but I did it.”

“This looks amazing,” Bucky said sincerely. “Let me put on a shirt and I’ll be right out.”

“Oh, uh…” Tony had been so excited he hadn’t even noticed that Bucky was only wearing a pair of boxers and nothing else; it occurred to him that this was the first time he had ever seen Bucky shirtless, and damn.  “Sure,” he said, jerking his eyes back up to Bucky’s face, hoping his voice didn’t sound squeaky. “I’ll just, um, be in the kitchen.  There’s coffee, too,” he babbled as he backed away. “And OJ, and, uh…”

“Coffee sounds great,” Bucky said with a small smile. The smile told Tony that Bucky noticed that he was checking him out and that realization made his face burn.  He made his escape and was tempted to stick his face in the freezer to try to cool it off, but instead he just sat down at the table and thought about car engines until all of the inappropriate reactions subsided.

“So what’s the occasion?” Bucky said as he came to sit down at the kitchen table.  “You’re up early.”

“I am actually up late, I didn’t sleep.  But I wanted to celebrate because I submitted my grad school application!” Tony said proudly, doing a little drumroll on the kitchen table.

“That’s amazing, Tony! Congratulations!  So you finished your proposal and everything?”  Bucky sounded so sincerely happy for him that Tony found himself blushing again.

"Yeah, I had a breakthrough last night while we were watching that movie, and then all of the ideas just wouldn’t stop coming.”  Last night it had seemed like his hands couldn’t keep up with his brain; in a flash of inspiration, he had suddenly seen the arc reactor and everything that needed to be done to make it smaller and more efficient and all of its potential applications, and after that it felt like the proposal had written itself.

“That’s really impressive, Tony.  I appreciate the omelet, but with news like that, I should be making breakfast for you,” Bucky teased, gently poking Tony in the arm with his fork before he took a bite of the omelet.

“Well, I was already up,” Tony said with a shrug, making a mental reminder to buy more eggs since he’d gone through half the carton trying to make this.

“Dinner, then," Bucky said around a mouthful of food.  "What’s your favorite food?”

“Oh, uh…” Tony stalled as his brain went through food that was actually possible for a amateur chef to make; somehow he didn’t think Bucky would be up for seared swordfish or a white truffle risotto.  “Spaghetti,” he said finally.  Howard hated spaghetti so all of Tony’s memories of it came from eating it in the kitchen with Jarvis and Ana, and sometimes his mom snuck into the kitchen to eat it too if Howard was busy.

“Spaghetti it is, then,” Bucky said with a soft smile.  He speared another bite of omelet. “So what’s the next step?”

“Financial aid, I guess,” Tony said glumly.  The prospect seemed a little daunting; it was going to take some research just to figure out the first step.

“I don’t know how helpful I would be, but if you need anything, just ask.”

“I really appreciate it, but you’ve already done so much for me,” Tony said.  “You gave me a place to stay, a job-”

“C’mon, Tony, you’ve earned all of that stuff,” Bucky said, waving off Tony’s words.  “It’s not like you aren’t paying for the room or earning your keep down at the garage.”

“I know, but…”  Tony didn’t know how to put into words the feeling that Bucky had opened up his entire life to Tony and welcomed him into it, giving him stability and a sense of purpose.  Bucky had been patient with Tony’s myriad fuck-ups and encouraged him when he was down about his application and he was funny and he thought Tony was funny and- “Oh, shit,” he blurted, eyes widening.

“What?” Bucky asked curiously, scraping up the last of his omelet.

I’ve got a crush on you.  “I forgot to return a call yesterday,” Tony said, which was true; his mom had called him last night and he hadn’t even heard the phone ring because he was so busy with his proposal.  “I’ll go, uh, do that, and I’ll see you downstairs.”      

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, greyangel85

March 4-I'd like to request a Skye/Clint/Wanda pairing, with the prompt of 'You can stay but your clothes must go.', for @greyangel85 

Written by @ozhawkauthor 

“Oh, shit. Whoops. Sorry.”

“That would be a lot more convincing if you averted your eyes, or looked even a little bit sorry,” Skye pointed out.

“Of if I couldn’t read his mind,” Wanda added.

Clint grinned, unabashed. “Darlin’, any red-blooded man would be thinking exactly what I’m thinking, and that’s hot damn, don’t stop on my account.” He leaned against the door frame and folded his arms. “Methinks you’re protesting too much, anyway, since you could totally have pulled that throw rug on the back of the couch over you. Or, ya know… told me to get the fuck out.”

They both just stared at him for a moment before turning their heads to stare at each other. Clint wondered if the silent communication between then was two-way; could Wanda implant her thoughts into Skye’s mind as well as read what Skye was thinking? And just how did her abilities affect their sex life, anyway? 

“Shut the door, you’re letting a draft in,” Wanda said then, turning to look at him again, “and is there any possible way you could think a little bit less loudly?”

“Not while you’re still naked,” Clint answered, wondering if she’d meant he should shut the door with him on the other side of it. She still hadn’t actually told him to get out, though. He kicked the door shut and leaned back against it.

“Lock the door,” Skye said. “We don’t need any more intruders.”

“If you will pick one of the public rooms to get hot and heavy,” Clint said, “you can’t really complain when someone walks in.”

“Who said we were complaining?” Skye sent him a sassy smirk.

“And nobody’s going to walk in,” Wanda added, “locked door or not. Trust me on that.”

Obviously, she was doing some sort of mind voodoo to ensure that - though Clint had to wonder why she hadn’t done it earlier.

“He’s so dense,” Wanda said to Skye, before looking back at him. “You can stay, Clint, but your clothes have to go.”

He froze up for a moment, sure he’d heard wrong. “Say what?” he finally blurted.

“You. Naked. Now.” Skye broke it down into small words for him, and he stumbled forward, hands which were so sure with a weapon fumbling at zippers and snaps which were suddenly recalcitrant.

Wanda chuckled, and a zipper he wasn’t even touching yet hissed down. His bootlaces unknotted all by themselves, and he arrived at the couch hastily kicking free of the last of his clothes.

“Hoo, boy.” Skye looked him up and down, pausing at his cock, already at full attention. “See?” she nudged Wanda. “This was a good idea of mine.”

“Never said it wasn’t,” Wanda agreed, her eyes locked on the same spot. “I just wasn’t sure he’d be interested. You’re pretty good at keeping your thoughts locked down, mostly,” she told Clint. “So we thought we’d catch you by surprise, find out if you were up for it.”

“Oh,” Clint agreed breathlessly as two pairs of slim, delicate hands started to trace over his body, “I am most definitely up for it.”

[andrebearakovsky]

Thank you notes to the 2016-17 Washington Capitals

With the expansion draft looming and the realization that our team would be no longer becoming imminent, I started getting a little emotional and nostalgic. So I wanted to do something as a final wrap-up to put a final bow on the season. And I know I’ve done a couple of posts that could fit into this category (the top 10 post, the end of season thanks to my mutuals, etc.), but I’m going to do one last thing while the gang is still officially together. I’m going to be writing quick thank-you notes to each of the players. This is going to end up totally cheesy, but I don’t care. I need to do this. It’s closure for me. So without further ado, I’d like to thank the 2016-17 Washington Capitals for being my favorite group of teammates and for giving me so much to love during a very tumultuous year of my life.

Thank you, Taylor Chorney, for being the best press box resident there ever was. I could probably count all the games you played on one hand. I’m not sure how much effect you had on the ice, but I loved you off the ice. You’re a great person and you mesh with the rest of the team wonderfully. Your friendship with Schmidty give me life, and I loved that one time you two played video games with Burky and Willy. If we could keep you on as like a personal cheerleader to just hang out and be friends with the team, I would give you that job in a heartbeat.

Thank you, Brooks Orpik, for giving me something to bond with each and every other Caps fan about, no matter our differences. The coaching staff and Kuzy and co. may love you, but we’re not entirely fond. Thank you for making me realize we deserve so much better than you and for making it clear how much better than you Schmidty is. I sincerely hope you find a nice home somewhere else.

Thank you, Kevin Shattenkirk, for giving us all heart attacks at the trade deadline. You sent my son Zach Sanford to St. Louis, but I was okay with it because I thought you’d help us go all the way. Obviously that didn’t happen, but I enjoyed having you around. And your friendship with Oshbabe is goals. But I know how desperately you want to be a Ranger, so I wish you the best of luck in New York.

Thank you, Daniel Winnik, for giving us the best fourth line in hockey. You along with Beags and Willy (which I’m pretty sure you dubbed as the “Lunch Pail Line”) were one of hockey’s most lethal fourth lines, and you meshed so well together and had amazing chemistry. Thanks for also being one of our best penalty killers, and for making me love your dogs and your family. When you were traded to us last year I didn’t know a lot about you, but after a year and a half I feel your personality has shone and you fit in perfectly with the team. I simply don’t know if we’ll have the funds to keep you around, but if this is the end of the line, I want to thank you for making it a good one.

Thank you, Brett Connolly, for showing the world that you were an absolute fucking steal. You were worth way more than your asking price. I’m so glad you decided to have the best year of your career with us. I wholeheartedly enjoyed watching you constantly give up your body for the game, get into the gritty areas, and just mesh with the team so damn well, even when you were getting sat at the beginning of the year. I don’t know if you’ll be with us again, but if this was just a one-year thing, it was a good one.

Thank you, Lars Eller, for being a solid third center. No, you didn’t fulfill your prophecy and defeat Pittsburgh, but throughout the year you centered the line with Burky and Conno that just flourished and it was beautiful to watch. Also you have a pretty face, which I appreciate.

Thank you, Justin Williams, for veteran experience and amazing hair. Throughout the year I have loved your sassiness, your goal-scoring punch, and your veteran leadership. You had amazing line chemistry with Kuzy and Mojo and it was beautiful. And all your teammates love you. The kids look up to you. Andre even did crazy hair day with you. And I sincerely hope this isn’t the end. But thank you for helping to anchor us.

Thank you, Matt Niskanen, for being probably our best defenseman throughout the course of the season. You consistently give us solid defense, and I never have a complaint about you. Thank you for being a solid pair along with Dima, and thank you for giving us the best smiles whenever you score (I’m pretty sure those smiles are what make flowers grow).

Thank you, Philipp Grubauer, for being the best backup goalie the world has ever seen. You’re good enough to be a starter somewhere, and for the past half a year I’ve braced myself for that becoming a reality. You’re too good to stay with us forever, which breaks my heart. You’re such a pure, good soul who deserves better. You strike me as the quiet type, but I know you have teammates and fans out there who love you, including me. So thank you for the absolutely amazing year you had, and know that I will support you no matter where you end up.

Thank you, Dmitry Orlov, for having the best year of your life and proving to everyone that you deserve to be here. Everyone last year doubted that you could have a good year, and you proved them all wrong. I mean, look at you. You played all 82 games, you scored your first career power play goal, had your first NHL fight, and you literally almost murdered Matt Duchene in the best hockey hit I’ve ever seen (and think about daily). Thank you for your excellent defense, and I hope to see that smile again someday soon.

Thank you, Jay Beagle, for having the best year of your career and being a giant meme in the process. You are truly iconic, and even though the rest of the league doesn’t know you exist, I feel truly blessed to have you on our team. Thank you for being so entertaining and such a sweetheart. Thank you for being a faceoff king and one of our best forward penalty killers. You’re the real MVP (no seriously, look at the record whenever you get a point), and thanks for just creaming the central division this year. It’s been a pleasure.

Thank you, Karl Alzner, for everything you’ve done for this organization. You’ve been one of our most consistent and reliable defensemen, a leader and friend in the clubhouse, and went so so long without missing a game. The team and everyone I know loves you so much. You’re so funny, incredibly likeable, and your hockey marriage to Carlson literally gives me life. Washington will always be your home. And this isn’t fair. I’m not ready to say goodbye. Thank you for being you, and I promised myself I wouldn’t cry until it was official; I still have time before the waterworks.

Thank you, John Carlson, for making me fall head-over-heels for you. By this point everyone knows how much I love and appreciate you. I love your flow (when you have it RIP), you play some awesome defense, have a wicked shot, have one of the most epic bromances of all time, and have an adorable son. But most of all, you’re an underrated leader who needs to be rightly recognized. You’ve been with the Caps for so long, and everyone trusts and respects you, and I strongly believe you should be rewarded with an alternate captaincy. I squeal whenever I see you with that A, and if you get it permanently I know I’ll bawl my eyes out. So here’s to you, and I’m crossing my fingers for you, my beanie sloth son.

Thank you, Marcus Johansson, for being one of the most underrated snipers in the league. When teams are preparing to face the Caps, they think about Ovi, Nicky, Oshie, and Kuzy, but sometimes you slip to the side and get forgotten about. But not to me. You’re quiet, and you strike when people least expect it. Mojo appears out of nowhere, a silent Swedish sniper. You absolutely do not get talked about enough, and I really want that to change. Thank you for blessing us with your laugh and your pranks, especially on your fellow Swedes. I love you so much, and I look forward to more of you next year.

Thank you, Evgeny Kuznetsov, for making hockey fun again. There are few players in the NHL who are more entertaining than you. I love your enthusiasm and your silliness and your wit, I love how hilarious and clever you are. And of course, your cellies are second to none. Your play this year was amazing, and you did us all a favor by giving us the world’s greatest celly: the bird celly. I love you and your ridiculousness so so much, and I want to thank you for being you.

Thank you, Nate Schmidt, for proving to everyone that you’re worth so much more than what they gave you. You were in the bottom defensive pairing and relegated to the bench with the arrival of Shatty. But throughout the whole thing, you kept a smile, as you always do. You’re an amazing defenseman, and you deserve to get that playing time (methinks I smell a pairing with Carly in the future?). And know that if you leave us, I will absolutely bawl my eyes out. You’re one of the best things to ever happen to this team, you’re so loved, and you have such a bright future ahead of you. Thank you for all the energy you bring.

Thank you, Braden Holtby, for constantly saving our asses yet again. We do not deserve you, and we are not worthy. Thanks for being an amazing person off the ice, as we all need someone like that. And thanks for being a fashion icon, we all aspire to be as beautiful as you. It’s been a pleasure to watch the best goalie in the league, and I’m crossing my fingers for you for that Vezina. 

Thank you, Tom Wilson, for maturing and growing your game so much. We all love you for the brobean fun and the hard hits, but this year you increased your game offensively (god bless you for the Toronto series), and most importantly your defensive game. You were an important part of the gritty fourth line and were one of our best penalty killers. You took less penalties and definitely less stupid ones. No one outside of DC will admit it, but you’ve come a long way and you’re a better all-around player. And I’m so so proud of you. Thank you for that, and also thank you for your abs. AND thank you for meeting me at meet and greets twice this year; you were so sweet to me and I will treasure those pictures til the end of time.

Thank you, Andre Burakovsky, for reminding me why you’re the love of my life. You are so so important to both me and to the team. When you went down this season the team had trouble keeping afloat. You’re more important on he ice than people realize. I think we’ve just seen a hint of what you can do on the ice, and I can’t wait for when you just explode and become a goal-scoring fiend. I love you so so much. You’re such an absolute sweetheart, the best human being in the world. You’re so full of love. And you’re so attractive like damn. I will always be thankful for Mojo making that bet with you and you growing out those curls, for that we are #blessed. I love you, and thank you for that.

Thank you, TJ Oshie, for getting me into hockey. You’re the reason I sit here today typing this. Thank you for getting me into this wonderful sport that has given me so much joy and so much pain. You were my first hockey love and still retain that title, eclipsed only by Burky. I cried when I learned you were coming to my hometown team, and you were one of the main reasons I started following them closely. And from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for everything you’ve given us over the past few two years, from electric goal-scoring to shootout prowess to your beautiful smile. And I beg, please don’t leave us. We need you. I need you. You mean so much to me and I don’t know how I’ll handle it if you don’t come back. Please come back, for me and for all of us.

Thank you, Nicklas Backstrom, for making me fall in love with you. I didn’t mean to, but you sucked me right in. And, looking back, how could I not? You’re utterly amazing. Your prowess on the ice and playmaking abilities are second to none, you’re an amazing leader whom everyone loves and respects, and you’re an amazing human being. You’re shy, sassy, and wouldn’t hesitate to kill a man for your teammates. You have the most epic hockey romance/bromance of all time. You’re such a dad. I love your smile, your curls, your laugh. You absolutely do not get the recognition you deserve and you utterly deserve the world. I cried when you guys won Worlds, because you deserve everything. We’re so damn lucky to have you, and I feel lucky to be able to watch you for the entire season. You deserve so much more. I love you, and thank you for making me see that.

Thank you, Alex Ovechkin, for absolutely everything. Once again, everyone gave you so much shit that you absolutely do not deserve. You are the best hockey player in the world, and anyone who can’t see that is blind. Anyone who says a damn thing about you is wrong. Anyone who thinks about giving you up is a fool and a fucking idiot. You’re an exciting player, a player of a generation unlike any other. You’re an amazing person so full of love, both for yourself and for others. You shouldn’t have to apologize for being you just because other people are dicks. You’re amazing and you’re an unparalled leader. You deserve the entire world, so much more than you’ve gotten. I want you to have it all just so you can shove it back in the faces of everyone. You’ve given us your everything, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s been a pleasure to watch one of the greatest of all time for the past decade. I love you and everything about you. Never change, but hopefully circumstances will. Thank you for everything.

[mittensmorgul]

Obviously there's been a ton of parallels between Ramiel and Cain but I just thought of something. Do we know that Ramiel was actually doing anything wrong, or was that just part of Mary's cover story? If we look at it from his POV they were actual rude AF breaking in and trying to kill him for no reason and stealing things that had been gifted to him! What if Mary had just told her boys that Ramiel had the Colt and they could have gone and talked to him politely?

It was Mary’s cover story, or at least that’s what I gathered. Somehow the MoL discovered the location of the Colt. And they wanted it.

They collect “toys” like this. Like the egg, like the brass knuckles…

Why did they want it RIGHT NOW? Well, that’s the question, really.

What are their plans here, really? Their info is ALL super-sketchy, you know? HOW DID THEY KNOW THE COLT WAS THERE, DOWN TO THE SCHEMATICS OF THE HOUSE IT WAS STORED IN AND THE PICTURE HIDING THE SAFE IT WAS LOCKED IN, AND YET NOT KNOW IT WAS RAMIEL PRINCE OF HELL THAT OWNED IT?!

They have a terrifyingly cavalier attitude toward the people they’ve contracted to work for them. Meaning, hunters. The soldiers on the ground. The people they give orders to and expect to carry out their deeds. It’s rather sickening, you know?

Ramiel’s ONE condition to Crowley was that he (and his siblings) simply be left alone. No one bothers them, everything will stay hunky-dory.

That’s was Crowley’s motivation for interfering here. Because of the deal he’d made with Ramiel, Crowley has assumed PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY for the fact that Ramiel had been “disturbed” by anyone.

Which is really interesting to me, because Crowley’s demons only interfered with our little gang AFTER they’d engaged with Ramiel. Technically they could’ve prevented Mary’s little raiding party from even going in in the first place if they’d been watching the house like they were supposed to.

And I think that comes down to the demon who’d been there with Crowley when the original deal was made.

Remember, when Ramiel offered the throne of Hell to Crowley, he took a minute to feel a bit stunned, and then the other demon– the one who made that little speech about being the demon who killed Sam Winchester?– SHE WAS EAGERLY PREPARED TO ACCEPT THE THRONE OF HELL, and was rather put out that Crowley overrode her and took it himself. She did not seem pleased by this: (note, this is from the rough draft of the transcript. I haven’t put stage directions in yet, but suffice it to say, Demon Lady Looked Pissed)

CROWLEY: I mean, one dares to dream, but what about the others? You’re not the only Prince.RAMIEL: Azazel was a fanatic, a true believer in Lucifer’s plan. But the rest of us? Well, the truth is, we stopped caring a long time ago. Asmodeus has his hobbies. Dagon has her toys. We’re happy where we are. So the crown is yours if you want it. Otherwise… [Ramiel looks to Crowley’s associate]DEMON: Oh, hell ye–CROWLEY: I’ll take it. I mean, I graciously accept.RAMIEL: Swell, but there is one thing.CROWLEY: Nothing comes without a price.RAMIEL: Well, this should be easy enough. Leave us alone. And make sure everyone else does the same. If anyone– anything– bothers a Prince of Hell, that’s gonna be on your head, Crowley. And you don’t wanna know what happens when you piss us off.CROWLEY: I humbly accept your terms.

So, aside from being pissed at Crowley, she knows the full terms of the deal. She knows it’s Crowley’s head on the chopping block if the terms of the deal are violated– i.e. if ANYONE or ANYTHING bothers a Prince of Hell.

Well, methinks Demon Lady (sorry she’s not actually named, which only ADDS to the feeling that she would feel Wronged by Crowley’s deal) was actually COUNTING on someone breaking the deal… 

She’s been stuck on the most boring guard duty of all time, when she’d been half a word away from sitting on the Throne of Hell herself.

Why not let someone bother Ramiel? It would piss him off enough to go after Crowley, and then she’d be perfectly positioned to take the Throne.

SHE WAITED UNTIL AFTER THEY’D FOUGHT RAMIEL TO MAKE A MOVE.

She didn’t interfere when Mary and Wally were staking the place out that morning. She didn’t interfere when FIVE PEOPLE walked up to the house and began setting out a trap. She knew perfectly well who these people were, too.

My bet? SHE WAS THE ONE WHO TIPPED THE BMOL OFF TO THE LOCATION OF THE COLT. She’s the only other one who knew where it was, after all…

She WANTED all of this to happen. She USED the BMoL to set off this chain of events that would eventually lead to her taking over Hell. She wasn’t expecting to get stabbed in the back by Dean Winchester…

She relied on the MoL’s greed for shiny toys. Assumed Ramiel would handle the intruders, and then rush off to murder Crowley. Her and her associate showing up to finish off the Winchesters would put her on the spot to accept the Throne once Crowley was dead.

Mary was only given the limited information that Lady Demon wanted the MoL to have. The text messages she exchanges with “Hobbits” are quite revealing: (transcribed exactly as they appeared on screen):

“What the hell did you do? The demon had yellow eyes!” She receives a reply a minute later, “Wasn’t us. Bad intel. You Can’t stay there. He will find you.”

I think that “bad intel” could’ve only come from Lady Demon. To her, the Colt was simply bait in her own play for power.

From Mary’s pov, she only knew that a demon was in possession of the Colt. Telling Sam and Dean that would only lead to them “asking the wrong questions,” wondering HOW she could possibly know that…

They’d start digging, rather than storm the place with bad intel… They’d at least probably call Crowley in for intel… and then they’d know the entire truth about the Colt, about Ramiel, and Crowley would’ve known WHO betrayed him (Lady Demon, the only other person on the planet who knows Ramiel even had the Colt), and they never would’ve put themselves into that position in the first place.

From MARY’S POV, she assumed if she told them about the Colt, they’d ask questions that would lead them to guessing or proving that she was actually working from the BMoL, and she knows first-hand that THEY WOULD DISAPPROVE:

From the Mary POV scene at Raul’s Diner:

WALLY: You meet them fancy Men of Letters?SAM: British Men of Letters?DEAN: Yeah, they got gear, but, uh, you know they tried to kill my brother.SAM: All right. Internet’s up. We’re in business.MARY: Everything’s gonna be fine.

THIS CONSTITUTES FOUR OF THE SEVEN LINES OF DIALOGUE FROM MARY’S POV IN THE DINER. This was the information that was important to her POV. Fear of the source of her intel being discovered, Wally bringing up the MoL and Dean’s response.

[flauntpage]

The Joel Quenneville Talk Can Finally Stop. Now, lets talk Dave Tippett

The Flyers offseason is only entering it’s second day and the angst has already set in.

It’s because of an early morning tweet from another team:

Quenneville has arrived.

Welcome to South Florida, Coach Q » https://t.co/RDTreMCKac pic.twitter.com/sxnl8oVa6L

— Florida Panthers (@FlaPanthers) April 8, 2019

Wait, I thought he was “definitely” coming here?

Oh, sorry.

Let’s get some things out of the way here first:

The Flyers never offered Quenneville a contract.

Chuck Fletcher didn’t seek permission from Chicago to speak to him about the Flyers job – not in December and not in April.

Quenneville, while an attractive name and an impressive resume, probably wasn’t the right fit for a young team like the Flyers as he is not a patient coach.

I can’t say this with 100 percent certainty, but I’m pretty confident Quenneville let it be known in NHL circles where he wanted to go this offseason and Philadelphia wasn’t the option that interested him the most.

Not to mention, Quenneville has a pre-existing relationship with Panthers General Manager Dale Tallon from Tallon’s days in the same role in Chicago.

Now, why would Florida be more appealing than Philly? Especially since that team doesn’t draw well and roughly half of the people who do attend games in South Florida are fans of the visiting team.

Well, you can’t beat the weather, for one. But, hockey-wise, they are a draw for a coach, after the jump, because:

They have more than $17 million in cap space.

They have established young stars in Alexsander Barkov, Aaron Ekblad, Jonathan Huberdeau, and Vincent Trochek.

They have a couple of talented veterans in Mike Hoffman and Keith Yandle.

They are already being linked to Columbus free agents-to-be Artemi Panarin and Sergei Bobrovsky (Panarin already owns a house in South Florida and both players are represented by the same agent).

They have a wealth of draft picks to play with as assets as well as a stocked cupboard of young talent on the way, especially at forward positions, as many experts consider them to have a top 10 NHL farm system.

It’s quite simple, this is where Quenneville wanted to be. Buffalo was interested, and they are widely considered to have the best farm system in the NHL. The Flyers are right behind the Sabres in that regard, but when considering everything, Quenneville wanted to be in Florida.

Please note:

THIS IS NOT THE FLYERS’ FAULT.

Chuck Fletcher didn’t fail here as a general manager in not getting Quenneville.

Quenneville was a bit of a Holy Grail that was being chased in this city for the past four months. And maybe now fans will realize it was never going to happen.

And to be fair to Fletcher, Quenneville was never his type of coach, to be honest.

I had heard last week that Fletcher would consider Bruce Boudreau a leading candidate if he were fired from his job in Minnesota.

Fletcher hired Boudreau there, after all, so that would make sense, but now it’s looking like Boudreau will be given another chance in Minnesota.

The other hot name has been Todd McClellan, but methinks he wants to stay out West and the Los Angeles Kings have asked Edmonton for permission to talk to him, so that makes sense.

So, where do the Flyers go from here?

What if I told you, a former Flyer?

Now wait, don’t go jumping off of bridges just yet screaming “same old Flyers” on your way down.

The guy I’m about to suggest only had a cup of coffee here as a player and had a modicum of success as a coach at the NHL level, but never got over the hump for various reasons that likely didn’t have a lot to do with his coaching, but rather the situation he was in.

I’m talking about Dave Tippett.

Tippett, 57, hasn’t coached in either of the past two seasons and was hired by the unnamed Seattle team (I’m rooting for Krakken)  as a senior advisor last September.

But, I’m told he really wants to get back into coaching.

He has coached at the NHL level for 14 years with Dallas and Arizona and reached the Western Conference Finals twice, once with each team. He was also a Jack Adams Award winner as NHL Coach of the Year in 2009-10, his first with the Coyotes.

Arizona’s financial troubles are what did him in eventually. He was being asked to coach a team who was being run by the league, barely spending to the salary floor and fielding a lineup of AAAA players who had no business competing in the NHL.

He’s also the kind of guy who finds ways to get the most of his teams.

That 2011-2012 Arizona team that reached the Western Conference Finals had a 39-year-old Ray Whitney as it’s leading scorer, Radim Vrbata as their second-best scorer, and Shane Doan was third on the team – with only 50 points.

A few years earlier he did the same with an aging Dallas team by eliciting career years from guys like Mike Ribiero and Brenden Morrow.

Tippett is also one of only seven coaches in NHL history to coach his team to successive 50-win season, which he did with Dallas. The other six were/are mostly hockey icons:

Mike Babcock (Detroit)

Scotty Bowman (Montreal)

Tom Johnson (Boston)

Mike Keenan (FLYERS)

Glen Sather (Edmonton)

Fred Shero (FLYERS)

He makes a lot of sense as he is an experienced NHL coach (coached more than 1,100 games), who has had some success, but not the ultimate success, and so that fire still burns.

Plus, he is considered a sharp hockey mind and innovative as well, and would be a good fit with the young players on the Flyers as he was a well-liked coach by players both in Dallas and Arizona.

I know there are other candidates out there. Sheldon Keefe intrigues me a lot as he’s done a nice job coaching the Toronto Marlies in the AHL for the past four seasons, winning the Calder Cup a season ago. I think he has to be on the short list at this point.

As for the other names that have been bandied about like Alain Vigneault or Guy Boucher? Meh. You’d get just as much, if not more, by keeping Scott Gordon as the head coach.

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