#when someone says ‘john seed’

[a-b-riddle]

You're not her...

I've been seeing a good bit of fics where the reader is left for another woman and people around them are encouraging it. While I do love a good angst, I would simply pass away. Your girl, Riddle, is weak.

Especially if it's my baby boy Simon.... I can't. I love the idea, but as someone who is an absolute crybaby, I wouldn't survive being reader...

So what if that happened to nurse reader's partner left them for a fellow recruit and when everyone starts being like "good for him", the 141 isn't having any of it?

The others on base seemed honestly happy that your heart had absolutely been broken. I mean, you weren't exactly around him as much as she was. You couldn't see the undeniable chemistry there was. You had tried to put on a brave face. But when John had come in for some ointment for a burn and you were falling apart, he gathered up his boys.

Something needed to be done. A point to prove not just to you or your ex or that woman who had chosen to pursue a very much taken man, but to the hold damn unit. Your ex didn't leave you because there was someone else. He left you because he didn't deserve you in the first place.

In hand to hand, Johnny doesn't hold back. Not only does your ex absolutely get his ass handed to him on the mat over and over again, but does it in front of his new girl and everyone else. How embarrassing. Doesn't exactly help that Kyle is on the sidelines talking so much shit that she begins to get the ick. I mean, could he not honestly win one match? Wonder what that says about a man who can't even hold his own? It even gets cringier when your ex tries to place the blame on the drills from yesterday with a certain Ghost.

Simon is already hard as a lieutenant. But add in the factor that the recruit he currently has running drills is the same recruit who hurt his favorite little nurse? The boy would be lucky to crawl out of there. The second an exercise or drill is not made to absolute perfection, Simon has him running it all over again. It almost

John is already starting the transfer papers the first time he catches your eyes the least bit misty. You don't have to see that rubbish and since the prick and slag couldn't have the decency to wait until he had broken up with you properly instead of telling you that even though he was with you, he had fallen for another woman, then they'll be sent to completely different units. John lists the reason for transfer as a liability. If they were so proud of their "love" before, let them keep that same energy.

And Kyle.... Sweet shit talkin' Kyle. Who plants seeds around the entire base. Nowhere are these two lovebird safe from judgment. All of the female recruits have ostracized their fellow female soldier while receiving lewd looks and calls from the males. I mean if she was easy enough to fuck a taken man, then she must be an easy lay. And here comes Kyle, telling your ex 'man-to-man' about seeing his girl with other officers. Kyle is the most gentle when it comes to the 141. But the motherfucker knows a thing or two about psychological warfare.

After your ex and the girl are suddenly, very mysteriously sent elsewhere, everyone starts flocking to you. Offering reassurances on what a bullet you dodged. How, from what they heard, they had broken up shortly after being relocated to separate bases. The boys see your confidence creep back in. Your smile is a little brighter. A little more pep in your step.

You wouldn't tell anyone how your ex had e-mailed you. Complaining about the new base. Explaining how he had ended things and just wanted you back. How he regretted ever letting her get to him, as if she were the only one at fault for kindling the relationship.

It also didn't help that a certain member of the 141 had come by your station, wondering if you wanted to grab a drink when you were off of your shift.

[indigovigilance]

The Final Fifteen is about Terry Pratchett's Death

read on Ao3

The final fifteen is obviously a major plot point, and serves a role in a story that was written long before Terry Pratchett was ever diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. But the scene itself wasn’t written until just a few years ago, during the writing of Season 2. In fact, the scene came about during a park bench conversation between Neil Gaiman and John Finnemore.

Others have noted that the non-romantic kiss that signals the story moving into the third act is a Neil Gaiman staple. The function of such a kiss, from Gaiman’s perspective, is to communicate.

In 2023 we are seeing a lot of stories written by men, for men, about men who are best friends and discover that their friendship can go deeper than the norms of society would usually allow; that platonic and romantic love are not so far apart, and perhaps the better word for a relationship that can be described this way is intimacy.

Neil Gaiman has made it clear in interviews that his friendship with Terry Pratchett was deeply intimate. They began collaborating on what would become Good Omens in the 1980’s, endured a tumultuous experience together through the first publication, wherein Neil offered to martyr himself on behalf of Terry if the book failed, and then spent the better part of two decades touring the world, meeting the people who loved their work. Neil would even off-handedly remark that Terry’s fans were so cheerful, and Neil’s seemed like they were ready to kill themselves; wouldn’t it be nice if they got married? From the outside, it looks very much as if Terry was Aziraphale-coded, and Neil was Crowley-coded, working together in an unexpected partnership to make the world a little bit more tolerable for the humans inhabiting it. I am not conjecturing that Neil and Terry had romantic inclinations the way their fictional characters do, but I think it is fair to say that their opposites-attract intimacy became an important part of who each of them were.

In 2007 Terry Pratchett was diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy, a rare form of Alzheimer’s. As the disease progressed, he began to lose himself, and knew that the person he used to be was slipping away. He wanted to end his life on his own terms, and die as himself, but England did not and still does not allow for voluntary euthanasia or assisted suicide. He advocated for the right to die but never achieved it, and ultimately succumbed to the disease in 2015. Neil Gaiman has spoken a lot on the topic of death, and one answer of his that resonated with me reads:

Mostly it feels terrible. It even feels terrible when it’s someone who has been in a lot of pain for a long time or has not really been there for a long time and you know that Death has in some ways been a blessing: suddenly you are mourning the whole person. 

It doesn’t get easier as you age. It gets stranger. The point where you realise how many people you used to know and like who aren’t there any longer, and you cannot talk to them or see them or laugh with them is painful in a way that I had never expected. The first time that someone you had a romantic relationship with dies and you realise that there had been moments both of you shared and now you are the sole custodian of those moments and one day you will be gone and they will be lost forever is peculiarly strange and hard. 

~~~

The entire show is seeded with references to Terry Pratchett, but the most important one is the one that’s missing. Neil Gaiman cameoed as a sleeping moviegoer in S1E4, but a long time ago, he and Terry had discussed cameoing as sushi restaurant-goers, because sushi was weirdly prominent in the book. That cameo would have been in S1E1. But when it came time to do it, Neil couldn’t. Not without Terry. 

Neil: I was gonna say our location is a Chinese restaurant we’d had turned into a sushi restaurant. So Terry and I, Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it.

Douglas: You never told me this before either. I might have pushed you into doing it, had I known. I think you were right not to tell me.

Neil: I was keeping it to me self ‘cause I was always like: Oh, maybe I’ll be… this will be my cameo. And then I couldn’t. I was just so sad, ‘cause Terry wasn’t there. And it was probably the day that I missed Terry the most of all of the filming - it was just this one scene ‘cause it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

~~~

In the Final Fifteen, it is clear that Crowley and Aziraphale want to stay together. They love each other. They each know that the other loves them. There’s nothing that needs to be said, no convincing that their bond is true and real and precious.

But Aziraphale has to go to Heaven, and Crowley cannot follow him there.

I cannot speculate what it must have been like for Neil to endure losing a friend who, though I’m sure he desperately wanted to still be in his life, he also knew that life had become a burden to him, and grieved that Terry was not able to choose the time and manner of his departure from this Earth. This sort of complex grief, we fan-ficcers know, is the kind that is often best processed through story-telling. 

I think that what we see Crowley going through in the Final Fifteen, alongside its importance to the story arc of Good Omens overall, is Neil processing his grief at losing his friend Terry Pratchett, and even the kiss, that violent, terrible, awful kiss, was the symbolic representation of Neil saying goodbye.

[bunnys-kisses]

some women don't want the bear

john 'soap' mactavish

cw: smut/pwp, predator/prey, cnc, roleplay/fantasy, forest sex, messy sex, unprotected sex, after care, gunplay, degrading language, dirty talk, (partially) clothed sex, pussy slapping, filth (!!!)

bunny says! reblogs, tags & comments feed the rabbit!

you never really thought about scotland having forests. you always imagined the rolling plains and large cows. not dense forests as you hastily ran pass trees and tried not to trip over roots.

your heart was racing, your breathing ragged. you needed to get away from the man in the woods. he had found you cabin for the week and had tried to get his way inside. the only way for you was out the door and into the forests before he could harm you.

"shit, shit, shit." you panted as you tried to get further into the forest, only getting more lost. you felt panic all of as you ended up in a clearing.

you wanted to scream for help, but no one would hear you. you were a lost little thing, all alone in the woods with a big scary man. a man who wanted to take you apart.

your knees felt weak as you looked around, the afternoon light shined through the thick foliage of the trees. you eventually crumbled to your knees like a dying deer when you heard the snap of a twig nearby. you quivered and whimpered when the heavy footsteps came closer.

you felt yourself be yanked by the hair and forced to look up at the man in front of you. you bottom lip wobbled, "please don't kill me, sir."

he chuckled and tapped his pistol to your nose, "cute. i don't like 'em dead, bonnie. i like 'em when they struggle." then pressed the gun to your lips, "c'mon. be a good little whore and suck. or i'll find another way to get this thing wet." his eyes cast down to your lap.

you carefully licked the gun and the intruders eyes were on you. his blue eyes gleamed like sapphires, full of danger. you never got his name as you continued to suck off his gun.

you prayed it wasn't loaded.

"pretty girl for me." he said, "bet you're popular with the boys at uni." he laughed before he used his other hand to comb his fingers through your hair, "don't worry about that. once i get my seed planted in ya, you'll be too tired to think about other boys while you're chasin' my boys around." he pinched your cheek, "hard to finish school when you're nursing one babe and pregnant with another." he chuckled.

you hated how hot it felt. it flooded your core and made your face hot all over. your heart raced as you continued to lick the weapon.

his words kept coming, "you, me and our little mission to repopulate that big cabin you were staying in. you were tempting me with that, one woman doesn't need that many rooms. you were hoping i'd come and give you an excuse to fill 'em up. better i come and seed that little cunt of yours before a big bear or something comes and does it instead.' he laughed at the improbability of that.

you looked up at him, your eyes gleamed in the afternoon light and it made the intruder's cock twitch in his pants. he patted your cheek a little harder than you liked before he wanted you to have the real thing.

he tossed the weapon to the side and pushed you down onto your back. he got on top of you and he could feel the heat of your core through those thin tights. he didn't give it much time before he ripped the cheap fabric at the crotch, followed by your panties ending up in tatters too at the seam.

"good hold you got there, bonnie." he purred, "a nice tight little cunt that i'm gonna enjoy ruining." he chuckled as he sank two thick fingers into your sweet puffy hole. he sank in like a hot knife cut butter, "oh, someone's a little whore, huh? do you let all the big scary men of the forest fuck you? or am i just special." he smiled with all teeth and you felt wetness grow between your legs.

he crowded your space, his weight on top of you kept your pinned. you weren't as strong or as big as him. he was muscular with a mohawk and a tattoo. you could already feel his length pressing against you through his jeans.

he was going to split you in half with that thing!

"ya want it, bonnie? do you want me to fuck you raw. ruin you for any other man so much so that another man could even breed you. get that pretty cunt addicted to my cum." he patted your pussy before he sank his fingers back into you, now using his thumb to play with your clit.

you sent electricity through you, you tried to find some support from the forest floor to get yourself out from under him. but there was no escaping him. you were going to be bred by this monster.

you wanted to hit him, but he was a bulk of solid muscle. you would break your hands before you made any dent in him. you laid there and kicked out your legs but you were pinned under him.

he took his fingers out of your slick pussy and licked your wetness off of them letting out a soft moan, you tasted so good. he said, "a wife's gotta taste good, even when heavy with bairn." then placed a broad hand on your stomach as he got his cock out of his blue jeans.

the birds chirped and the sun beamed down on you as you laid in the mess of leaves and twigs. you could feel the man's heavy gaze on you. you swallowed at the sight of his cock, it was thick. you swore his balls were heavy, ready for breeding.

he kept his hand on you as he guided his cock into your sweet, slick pussy. he groaned a little bit as he pushed into you. your pussy felt so good enough his cock.

he chuckled, "where have you been all my life?" his pace skipped pleasantries and soon he was bullying it deep into your womb, "a pretty little thing to breed and keep. you, me and a bunch of babies." he was so large compared to you, you couldn't fight him off. he looked like a military man, even if you could get out from under him, he would stalk you through the forest. he groaned, "you're so good for me, lettin' me use that sweet cunt of yours. i'll keep this little cunt." he patted it before he gave it a firm slap.

you panted and squirmed under him, a fruitless attempt as he fucked you with a fury that you couldn't find words for. his cock felt like it was in the back of your throat.

the harshness of his thrusts made your head spin as you gripped onto him and tried to get him off of you. but he wasn't going anywhere, he was too busy having his cock into you. he wasn't going anywhere until he was finished with you.

you were his now.

regardless the pleasure coursed through you and the pace made you hot all over. the feeling was overwhelming and you knew you wouldn't last long. you panted and moaned, your entire body was burning from the intense pleasure.

"please." you whimpered.

"what?" he asked, curious what you had to say.

"please don't kill me." you whimpered.

"no, no.. shh, shh. no way." he said, his voice overly sweet, "i would never. now c'mon, bonnie. cum for your husband." as he continued to thrust up against you cunt.

you then gripped onto the forest floor as best as you could and arched your back. you then climaxed. you felt your body betray you as your pussy clenched around him as you it all became too much. you felt like an animal being bred in the forest. "fuck." you gasped.

"so good. fuck, i'm gonna ruin that little pussy. don't worry, bonnie.

he spurted inside of you with a heavy grunt before he slowed to a stop. his heart hammered in his chest as he admired the sight of you. he gave you pussy a firm slap before he pulled out.

"good girl." and after that, the little roleplay ended. and the man you loved came back. he got you in his arms as he kissed at your face, you were still in a state of bliss as your orgasm still came through you.

johnny then picked the twigs out of your hair, he got his jacket around your shoulders. he may have gone a little over kill with ripping your leggings and panties. but you were safe with him now.

"did you like that?" he asked as he rubbed your shoulders before he helped you onto your shaky legs. he'd carry you if he had to, that what was what a husband did for his wife.

even if she wanted to have crazy, kinky forest sex during their honeymoon. but he'd have to admit, it did excite him too. using those skills of his to good use. so before he picked you up and brought you back to the cabin for some nice tea and food, he waited to give him a response.

you looked up at him, as if your cheek was scraped from the debris on the forest floor. your eyes gleamed, almost excitingly as you said, "can we do that again sometime?" <3

[consciouscarrot]

toxic, older man!price x reader

summary; you catch price flirting with someone else when you’re out on a date together, you argue but price manages to plant seeds in your head that you were overreacting. this is you coming back to him, because john is always right, and he would never hurt you, right?

warnings- toxic, abusive relationship, smut, public sex, voyeurism, humiliation, boot humping

—————

it had only been 2 days since your argument with john. you’d thought that he was in the wrong, when you caught him chatting up a pretty blonde whilst he waited for you to be done in the bathroom at the local pub.

you’d thought he was in the wrong when he’d denied their conversation being flirty, saying that he could never want someone that wasn’t you, even though his hand had been awfully close to her ass.

you’d started being confused about who was in the wrong when he’d complained about you always picking holes in every little thing he did, that he felt like he was being suffocated by you, before storming out, leaving you to find your own way home.

now, 2 days later, you knew that he was right, you had been more clingy than usual lately, and you had been tending to tell him off when really, the things he’d been doing weren’t that bad. you shouldn’t have complained about him looking down the waitress’ top last week when you were on another date, he couldn’t help that his eyes were at the same level as her tits! it’s not his fault that his chair was the perfect height.

you were missing him desperately, wishing that you’d just kept you mouth shut so you could be with him right now. you’d been on the fence about calling him, not sure if he’d even want you anymore after your spout. so instead, you decided that the best course of action, was to get absolutely plastered and pretend nothing happened.

admittedly, it wasn’t the best plan you could’ve come up with, and you were slightly regretting it now that you’d found yourself stood on john’s doorstep, in the sluttiest outfit you had, hand hovering by the door because you were too scared to knock.

luckily for you, he opened the door, unlit cigar in one hand. your eyes welled up immediately at the sight of him, feeling overwhelmed with relief from how much you’d missed him.

he sighed heavily, not looking at all surprised to see you and leaned up against the door frame, “you come to apologise for your behaviour?”

you quickly looked down, tears streaming down your face and cooling your warmed cheeks. now that you were here, you were unsure what to say. how could you ever make it up to him, what could you do to repay him for being so mean and inconsiderate to your poor boyfriend.

“you gonna answer me? or did y’come just here to yell and embarrass me again?”

his words only made you cry harder, wishing you could go back to before and have your john back. you swear that you’ll never complain about him again if he forgives you, you’d do anything he asked.

“no i-,” your own sobs cut you off, and you scrambled to find the right words, eyes lifting to meet his. “i’m so sorry, i was so cruel, i didn’t mean to.”

“so you just meant to upset me then, just didn’t mean to do it so publicly?” he sneered, titling his to the side a little. the floor beneath him creaked as he pushed off the frame, stepping closer to you.

you rushed to shake your head, doing it so quickly that your head swarmed, stumbling a little.

“don’t be so pathetic, it doesn’t suit you baby,”

you whimpered quietly, “i didn’t want to hurt you at all, i promise. please, i need you, please don’t leave me. i promise i’ll be good. just tell me what to do and i’ll do it, please.”

your breathing was laboured, and your heart felt like it was going to pump out of your chest. you waited whilst he considered, hoping that whatever he chose, that it would be enough for him to consider forgiveness.

“on your knees,” he commanded, finally lighting the cigar and taking a pull.

you dropped down, feeling the twang in your knees that you knew meant they’d be black and blue later. you looked up at him, waiting patiently for his next order as tears continued to fall, “hump my boot.”

you moved to do as he’d asked, not wanting to be seen hesitating and he change his mind. you carefully lifted yourself up, and placed your weight down onto his leather boot. your tears finally began to dry up as you loosely wrapped your arms around his strong leg.

going slowly at first, you rubbed your cunt along his shoe, trying to avoid the laces. you tried your best to put on a show for him, wanting to make him pleased at your actions, but the feeling of the leather grinding against your clit was disturbingly good.

just as you were getting lost in twisted pleasure, you heard a long whistle from down the street behind you. your head whipped around, stunting your movements on his shoe. a couple of men had gathered around to watch, and you hadn’t even realised. had they been there the whole time? did you know them? it was too dark to be able to recognise them, but the porch light above john made you very visible to them. you only hoped they couldn’t see the way your swollen cunt was glistening against the leather.

you felt a rough tug to your hair, and squealed as he said, “did i fucking tell you to stop?” you shook your head again, knowing that any words you said would only anger him further at this point, and john didn’t tolerate prolonged disobedience.

resuming your movements, you tried not to think about the strangers, and focused only john and your quickly approaching orgasm.

you’d never felt so humiliated in your life, but you knew you deserved this. after all, this is how he must of felt outside that pub bathroom, with all those people around, watching. really, if you thought about it, you were quite lucky to only have a couple people watching you. john had been very generous with his punishment, and you’d happily take it like a good girl if it made him happy.

legs shaking, you moaned into his thigh, calling out his name like a chant. pleasure flowed through you as you released your cum onto his now shining boot. you collapsed against him, feeling exhausted and embarrassed. he gently pulled you up and into his arms, pressing his hard bulge into you as you tried to recover.

before you could realise what he was doing, you felt him flip up the back of your skirt, followed by a sharp burn against your ass check. you gasped, trying to move away from the source of pain. he shushed you as you began to cry again, rubbing your back and discarding the rest of the now put out cigar onto the floor.

“did so well for me, sweetheart. you’re forgiven, been such a good girl, haven’t you? how could i ever stay mad at that pretty face of yours, hm?”

he picked you up and walked around back into his house, slamming the door shut with his foot behind him.

your body continued to tremble as he placed you down onto his bed, lovingly tucking your hair behind your ears. he moved back to undo your laces and take off your shoes, focus moving back over to your face every once in a while. next, he unzipped the side of your skirt, and pulled your top off, leaving you in only your soaked underwear.

he admired the view, smiley softly when your eyes met and crawled up the bed to lay beside you. you always craved these moments with him, where you knew he loved you, where you knew that you were the one he wanted right now. you’d go to much further lengths than you had tonight on the porch to make him happy, if it meant that this is what you got in return. nothing felt this good.

he pulled you closer, his hold on your body tight, almost uncomfortably so, before his face turned serious, “you ever embarrass me again, and i’ll fucking kill ya, you hear me?”

you sniffled, eyes widening a little but refusing to squirm from his arms, “i won’t ever, i promise john,”

“good, that’s good,”

and just like that, he was his happy self again, like you’d never argued, like he hadn’t just threatened to take you life, like you didn’t know that he meant it. everything was good again, just don’t you dare say a word when the next week, you catch him sending pictures of his dick to his “doctor”.

—————

any feedback in the comments is massively appreciated <3

[angelsdean]

*record scratch* freeze frame. Reality Check. "You're the one who came and got me at school. You're the one who dragged me back into this." let's re-evaluate that statement, Sam, because that is not, in fact, what happened.

The context in which Sam makes this statement is that he's arguing Dean used to care about the revenge quest and killing the demon because Dean is the one that came and got Sam and thus "dragged him back" into the quest to kill the demon. But, that is not why Dean went to get Sam at school, it was to find John, who was missing and possibly dead. Dean didn't even Know about the demon at this point (they don't find out that "the thing that killed mom" is a demon til 1x11) or that John was closing in on it. Dean goes to Stanford to ask Sam to help him look for John, that's it. Then, at the end of 1x01 Dean brings Sam back to school in time for his interview as promised, and drives away. He only turns around when, in the deleted scene, he notices his watch has stopped, cluing him in that something is wrong. And he gets there in time to save Sam from the burning building.

Sam then makes the choice to leave with Dean because now that he's lost someone, he is personally invested in finding John because John knows more about the thing that killed Mary (and now Jess) than anyone, and Sam is the one who is now consumed by the need for revenge and the first step in getting that revenge is finding John, something he had no vested interest in doing before, but is now heavily invested in, even more than Dean is, as we see throughout the first half of s1 where Sam is often the one calling around looking for John and is more interested in searching for John than taking on random cases.

Anyways, it's just so interesting to track this revisionism of events and how both Sam and Dean come to accept this as the truth when it's literally not what we saw happen throughout the season. And we see Dean start to absorb this belief after Meg plants the seed in their heads in 1x16, trying to drive a wedge between them, by falsely saying Dean "drags Sam around like luggage" when literally the whole reason Sam and Meg meet is because Sam wanted to part ways in 1x11 and Dean let him go. Sam then comes back and decides to stay all on his own, even after Dean offers to drop Sam off somewhere.

Dean expresses in 1x16, that yes, he wants Sam around, he wants his family together again, but at the end of that very episode Dean is also the one who says they need to split up from John, even though it's the last thing he wants. Dean consistently is willing to let people go, even if it's not what he personally wants. And especially Sam. Over and over throughout the season he expressed how he wants Sam to have a normal life, is willing to let Sam go, or stay in some random town and drop the search for John. So even IF Dean did secretly want Sam to stick around when he went to get Sam at Stanford, he never expected it. Never enforced it.

That Sam comes to think Dean "dragged him back" into hunting is a purely revisionism and a bit of projection, I think, because Sam might not want to face the truth of the matter which is that he consistently chose to stick with hunting, and actually enjoys it more than he'd like to admit. And, as both he and John express, this quest to kill Yellow Eyes becomes "their" obsession. Not Dean's. Dean is the one who says he'd rather they never find the demon if it means losing his family. Dean is the one that says getting revenge isn't worth dying for. And then, Sam takes this to heart, when at the end of 1x22 he refuses to kill John Possessed by Azazel at Dean's pleading, AND when he tells John that killing this demon does not come "before everything" while eyeing Dean bleeding out in the backseat.

Dean was never the one invested in revenge. He did not come get Sam from Stanford to aid in the family revenge quest, he came for help in finding their missing father, something Dean cared abt simply because that's family, and Dean cares deeply, despite everything John put them through. Dean is the one that cares, the heart of the narrative, etc etc. He comes to Sam because he is alone in the world, because their only other blood relative is missing, because it's a very human thing, to reach out, to want family around. And still, he was always going to let Sam go after the 1x01. He didn't like it. It's not what Dean wanted. But he was going to let him go back to his life. Sam chose to follow Dean and continue searching for John.

[kazz-brekker]

hotd episode thoughts

listen, as someone who enjoys some good dragon drama, i feel fantastically well catered-to by this episode

the confrontation between rhaenyra and addam was fun, i liked that it's apparently kind of inspired by western face-offs but with dragons instead of guns

that conversation between larys and ironrod while they were watching aemond sentence men to the watch definitely implied to me that, unlike with his brother, the council is so wary of/intimidated by aemond they don't even want to talk to him about possibly important war developments. which does not bode well for team green's stability in the future, tbh

jace stop being mean about mysaria that's your mom's girlfriend you're talking about :(

i did find the conversation between rhaenyra and jace really interesting, i hadn't considered that the sowing of the seeds plan might bring out so much of his insecurities about being a bastard. he and rhaenyra have probably the most functional parent-child relationship in the show, but they really DON'T talk about this aspect of his life at all, and it really shows

oscar tully unexpected mvp of the episode perhaps? holding his own against that whole council of river lords…calling daemon loathsome…making him execute willem blackwood to atone for spurring on those war crimes…king shit!

i enjoyed getting to see viserys again, i've really missed his actor this season and seeing daemon's reaction to his ruined face was quite interesting

daemon you are SO close to realizing that you don't actually want to be king and would make a terrible ruler, i'm rooting for you to figure this out by the season finale

the scene with aegon and larys talking was probably my favorite from last week so i really liked that we got a follow-up on it. very impressed that aegon is capable of walking even the tiniest amount after what he's been through

rhaena running off into the mountains…she's getting that dragon by hook or by crook

ulf trying to get out of claiming a dragon by claiming he had an injury made me laugh

i like that hugh and ulf have totally different reactions to being possible dragonseeds, one boasting and the other hiding it

alicent was serving real ophelia by john william waterhouse vibes this episode

loved that the dragonkeepers had a huge fight with rhaenyra over the sowing of the seeds, they're in the background of so many dragon scenes but we've never gotten much perspective on what they think of dragons or the targaryen right to claim them before

i do admit to saying "wow, those are some toasty boys" out loud when vermithor was torching those poor dragonseeds

love love LOVE that we got to see both vermithor and silverwing this episode, they look so cool and i love their distinct designs

i have been waiting ALL SEASON for the payoff of hugh and ulf claiming those dragons and it was such an exciting sequence, you could really feel the adrenaline and the danger the whole time

ryan condal on the inside the episodes comparing the death of the dragonseeds to ritual sacrifice was also super fun symbolism

another daeron mention, hi daeron and tessarion :)

also house beesbury making problems for the hightowers, love to see it

after aemond has spent so much time this season intimidating and terrifying other people it WAS super fun to see him do a hard swerve into fear when he saw how many dragonriders rhaenyra has now

that final shot of rhaenyra standing on the dragonmount with syrax, vermithor, and silverwing behind her DID get to, i must say. it's house of the dragon! and we have the dragons!!!

okay yeah i am super hyped for the finale and whatever it may bring, seems like it's gonna be epic. the triarchy! the dragons! the riverlands! helaena in the war effort, apparently?! what fun!

[markscherz]

Can I ask how you feel about your Tumblr fame?

I get the impression you just made this account for normal casual funsies reasons, but it kinda blew up by happenstance. If that's right, I'm curious if now you feel like it's kind of a more serious thing, where you have an opportunity to sorta act as a science communicator with a reach you otherwise might not?

Or maybe something else? You gonna see if you can somehow leverage your Tumblr fame to get research funding? Deputize us to harass polluters and developers destroying habitats? Crowdsource name ideas for new species?

It's a bit bizarre, in that it has very little real-world-ness to it. I showed my mother the ongoing tumblr celebrity poll, and she was like 'how many people could possibly be interested in frogs?', to which I replied 'well as of today about 46,000 and counting'.

I have always had an unhealthy relationship with fame. I spent most of my teen and young adult life fawning after it, as is I suppose very often the case.

More after the cut…

I always really wanted to be famous, but I was never really interested in changing who I was or what I represented in that pursuit. That is to say, I wanted to be known for what I was already doing, or for things that were already interesting for me, rather than things that might have much higher chances of success but require more effort or be less in line with the things that I am interested in.

I had my first brush with virality in 2012, when a poem I wrote went a little viral (largely thanks to StumbleUpon). I remember the rush of seeing how much attention it was getting, and staying up late to keep refreshing the page as the visitor numbers went up and up and up.

But not long after that, I had some closer encounters with fame and people becoming famous. That was extremely eye-opening. I witnessed first hand how strongly that can affect someone's life, for good and for bad. That experience also made me realise, quite jarringly, that famous people are still just people; that celebrity is something extrinsic to them; that they also wipe their own butts (if they are able); and that in many cases, it is a substantial inconvenience if not downright pain in the ass for them. I think this is why we see so many of the big celebrities having mental health crises or trying to live as much of their lives out of the public eye as possible.

That experience pretty much stifled my desire to achieve fame, and really changed my relationship with it. I should add that I could say much more on this topic, but nothing so coherent or insightful as John and Hank Green, who have given me so much clarity on this topic over the years through their thoughtful commentary on youtube and their podcasts.

Anyway, in spite of the fact that fame itself doesn't really appeal to me anymore, I do still have a problem wherein I quickly became addicted to the microdosing of euphoria associated with every reblog and like and follow. So I put huge efforts into social media in order to try to gain traction in the space that I felt I could really compete in—Very Niche SciComm™—and build up a following.

Tumblr was the first platform where I felt that really succeed; I managed to fight my way to a few thousand followers with a thick queue of regular posts about herpetology and other science. At that time, there was a great community building up in the rudimentary private messaging system—I am still friends with several other tumblr bloggers from that era (none of whom I have ever met in person). From that early time (2013), I think my most successful post was probably this one about germination of 32,000 year old seeds—a post that, as of today, has 836 notes, but at the time felt huge and exhilarating.

As I went through gradschool, I got more and more active on twitter, and less and less active on tumblr (by the time I wound down, I had about 8,000 followers on tumblr). This was partly because of the pornbot takeover on tumblr, which meant I basically could not go on the platform in public or at work, but also because the audience and interactions are just fundamentally different. Twitter had a different kind of vibe and energy than tumblr, and there were real SciComm experts there, who were doing it just completely differently. More importantly, I became more focussed on doing outreach aimed at colleagues, rather than non-experts.

Then, in 2017, I hit headlines for the first time. The description of Geckolepis megalepis made it big on social and traditional media, and I had my first experience with real media attention. I had a flurry of late-night phone-calls with journalists in the US. This was a different animal altogether than the few viral posts I had had until that point. It was extremely stressful, but exhilarating. Then in 2018, our chameleon fluorescence story made similar headlines, and in 2019 the Mini frogs, and in 2021 with gecko fluorescence and the smallest chameleon.

Seeing my name on the BBC News website and in the New York Times and National Geographic—those things have been the most surreal moments of near-fame I have experienced so far. The number of followers on social media is quite difficult to conceptualise, but seeing your own name in a media outlet that you consume regularly, or have grown up with, is more palpable.

In any case, I continued to run with twitter as my main platform for years, because I found the interaction with colleagues and other academics highly stimulating. In 2021, I even posted a twitter thread about a different species of frog from Madagascar every day for the full year. All this work was ultimately greeted with mediocre success; I just crested over 10,000 followers a few months before the Musth takeover. But then the platform became basically unusable. And in the fallout, I came back to tumblr, where, just by chance, I happened to find a post about the Mini frogs and reply to it and it went properly viral and now here we are. In the space of a year, I went from having 8000 followers to having >46,000.

How do I feel about that? It's bonkers. I think it is great that so many people are interested in hearing the Good News about frogs and other creatures. But I also feel like I am not really on the same playing field as most of the others in that poll mentioned above, in that I do not have any of the celebrity that several others have. And I know for a fact that there are fanblogs with far, far larger followings than I have. But perhaps that is the great thing about tumblr; that the playing field is somehow levelled…

What's the point of this ramble? Well, first I guess it is to outline that I have given fame a lot of thought over the years, and I have a long-standing and complicated relationship with it, and take it quite seriously. Second, to illustrate that I have been working on as a science communicator or person in outreach for many years—it has kind of been my social media brand since I started gradschool in 2013. And third, to kind of outline how we got here, because I often feel like you have to know where an arrow has come from in order to figure out which direction it will continue to fly.

You asked if I would somehow try to leverage my tumblr fame to get research funding—I already do that. In fact, my social media activity had a signfiicant role in landing me my current job, and will continue to help me achieve tenure. Outreach is an important part of my job, and funders like it too.

I would love to have the community-building power and tenacity of the brothers Green; Nerdfighteria has achieved some incredible things over the years, and the power of that community is now being seen at an unprecedented scale in their battle for equitable access for tuberculosis diagnosis and treatment. But I do not have that in me; this platform is the wrong one for community activation, and my community is still too small for that. Moreover, it is not organised or structured, in the way that I think effective deputisation would require.

As for the crowdsourcing of name ideas, that is currently off the table. I like to try to name things on my own or with my colleauges; it is a very good part of the process. And I have yet to hear a suggestion for a Mini species epithet that I had not already come up with myself, so I am not convinced that this would really augment the experience.

So for now, I hope that the main way I use the platform, and the power that comes with a few thousand followers, will be to spread the Good News about frogs and other wonderful animals, and the other kinds of science happening around us (and occasional other off-topic content). I hope that you are encouraged to explore the world around you, and to do your own reading to find out more about the subjects that interest you. And also I will continue to try to make meme-worthy content, because it does nice, if addictive, things in my brain when I get the clicks.

Thanks for asking, anon, and sorry for the Wall of Text.

[reevesdriver]

Mr. Dutton: Part 2 (NSFW)

Anon request: "John Dutton X reader have been dating for a while now and they’re sneaking around the house like teenagers, but they get caught by Beth. They could be caught making out in his office late and she barges in."

Word count: 996 (Bit short I know)

Reader: Female reader

Character(s): John Dutton

Warning(s): NSFW / 🔥🔥🔥 / Smut / Secret Relationship / Shower Sex / Dads Best Friend /

Support Me: Kofi

Part 1

Ever since that heated night where you took your best friends dad for the ride of his life John was unable to keep his hands off you. A few subtle glances here and some touching there drove the both of you mad. A few weeks had passed since that night and you hadn't had the chance to spend time with one another since the house was almost always full.

After a long morning of tending to the horses and doing housework around the Dutton ranch you opted for a hot shower to wash all the dirt and grime off of you. The house was empty, aside from John who was sat in his office on the phone to someone. Deciding not to disturb him whilst he was on a call you turned the shower on and waited for it to get warm before stripping your clothes and jumping in under the spray of water.

You looked down at the grime and first that was being rinsed down the plughole when you heard the bathroom door opening. "John?" You ask to the figure on the other side of the glass.

The sound of heavy fabric hitting the floor made your cheeks flush red and soon your question was answered when John pulled open the door to the shower and stepped inside, immediately embracing you. "You could've told me you were havin' a shower darlin', I would've joined you sooner."

"You were on the phone, didn't want to disturb you."

He hummed. "I'd rather be with you than dealing with bullshit." He says before kissing you softly. "Been a while since we've had anytime to ourselves."

His hands wander from around your body down to your waist and then over the curve of your ass where he grabs handfuls of the flesh pulling you against his body roughly. You feel his hardened cock prodding your soft belly, running a hand from his back you traced his sides before taking a hold of his cock in your palm.

"Quit teasing' me." John hissed as you gently squeezed his length. You laugh and in an instant he has your legs wrapped around him and your back pinned to the wall of the shower. His cock is sheathed inside of you and your arms instinctively wrap around the back of his neck as he manages to life you up and down on his length.

He may not look it but John was a strong man. Years working on the ranch had worked in his favour and you knew that you didn't have to worry about him dropping you as he fucked you harder. "C'mon baby." He says between pants and kisses. You clench around his cock as you cum and John follows soon after, his seed dripping out of you when he pulls his cock from your throbbing pussy.

The pair of you share more kisses in-between getting each other washed under the spray of water before eventually John drags you out of the bathroom to get dried and dressed. You slip into some comfy clothes and dump your dirtied ones into the laundry basket ready to be washed later on.

Later that day, when the house was clean and you'd finished putting your laundry away you found yourself walking to Johns office. With a gentle knock at the door you heard his gruff voice call from the other side telling you to enter, John sat at his desk with a cup of coffee in his hand. His cowboy hat had been taken off and placed beside a stack of papers that slowly piled up on his desk.

"Hey darlin'" He said with a smile as he sat back in his chair and watched as you closed the door and crossed the room. Picking his black hat up you dropped it on your head and sat perched on the edge of his desk in front of him. His hands immediately wrapped around your frame and you pulled him to your chest. "You're lookin' mighty stressed again John, anything I can do to help?" You say with a smirk.

"I'm sure there's a few things you could do for me." He laughs and you hum in content. Lifting his head from your chest John moves to capture your lips with his, he stands and pulls you off the desk and to your feet so he can hold you against his body easier. The height difference between the two of you barely affects the kiss since you stand on your tip-toes to reach him.

Your breathing deepens and as you press yourself to him the pair of you fail to hear the thudding of boots as Johns only daughter, and your best friend, storms her way to the office with a determined look on her face. “Daddy I can’t even tell you how mad I am.” She says entering the office. You jolt away from one another and turn to face the youngest Dutton who isn’t at all fazed with what was in front of her.

You stare at her, like a dear caught in the headlights and Beth laughs. "Don't look so worried, I already knew you two had a thing going on. You might wanna be quiet next time you're fucking."

Heat rises to your cheeks in embarrassment and you quickly return Johns hat to the spot on the desk that you took it from. Moving from your lover you hastily leave the room and head back to your own and shut the door behind you. Throwing yourself on your bed you stare at the wooden beams spreading across the ceiling when there's a knock at your door.

As you sit up the door opens and Beth takes a step into the room. "Beth, I-I'm sorry. I should've told you sooner." You stammer out an apology and she smiles.

"You've nothin' to apologise for, not seen my daddy so happy in a long while. Just don't break his heart."

"I won't."

[crepesuzette2023]

Hi! Because someone just asked me, I'd love you hear your Top 5 favourite McLennon fics!

You made my day! Nothing could have made me happier than this ask.

I'm not going to evade your question. I will post my top-five, even though it hurts to choose. But you inspired me to finally write a longer (okay: very long) post about some (not nearly all!) of my favorites, which will be under the cut.

(Sorry for not knowing every writer's tumblr, by the way. Please feel free to let me know, so I can tag authors where appropriate. Thank you!)

My Top 5:

MIRACLE WORKER by @scurator. What can I say. Every time I need my heart broken and to feel an inkling of what grace truly means, I go to this masterpiece about Paul and Robert Fraser finding each other again at Cavendish in 1981.

COAST STARLIGHT by bookofapril is "Miracle Worker's" cosmic twin. The sun to its night. Paul and Robert Fraser on Fire Island in 1974. Nothing I can say will do it justice, so I won't try. This is the "other world" conjured in "Tug of War," so powerfully and joyfully imagined, it's real. (I'm always thinking of this story, but I did so extra hard when I came across a prompt recently: 'They aren't each other's first love, but they're each other's true love'.)

SAME AS IT EVER WAS by RedheadAmongWolves. My favorite Outsider's POV. An ageing newsstand owner from Liverpool remembers John and Paul as boys and young men. There's something magical about the relationship coming alive in these glimpses. A story filled with tenderness that reminds me to always look closely.

AN ORGASM OF SOUND by @pauls1967moustache. The insanity of John and Paul in 1967 got the tribute it deserves. I sleep easier since I read this story. It feels cosmically right that it exists.

PLANT A SEED by @eveepe. Paul in his slutty sailor outfit in Miami. He and John are into each other, and happy, and fuck slowly. Afterwards, Paul has an idea for a new song. That's it. Tender, glorious, hot perfection. Apply at least once a week for best results.

For more thoughts about some of my favorite stories, sorted into very much defined-ad-hoc categories, read under the cut.

Young Love:

I love the myth of their first meeting, and stories that speculate about the sexually loaded creative fireworks/gritty jealousies/tentative hand-holding/topping and tailing during the first years. Here are some faves:

Paul finds music, and John, and his life is changing. In STREETS OF OUR TOWN (@with-eyes-closed) you can taste the upheaval and promise of first love and growing up. Deeply sensual, even without on-page sex. The shaky, sweet, and all-consuming fire of John and Paul’s first kiss is immortalized in ALL I KNOW SINCE YESTERDAY (RedheadAmongWolves). In NON NOBIS SOLUM (@downtothe-lastdrop), art student John simply has to know how far grammar school boy Paul will go to please him. But Paul matches him play-by-play. In THE CAST IRON SHORE (@m1ssunderstanding) Paul earns extra money through music and sex. John finds out. They fall in love, and hide their mutual pining behind transactions—but in the end, they man up to pair up, and get their band back on track. (The first part is finished; I can’t wait for part 2.) John and Paul’s ’61 trip to Paris has been honored in fiction many times; WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG THEY ASSUME YOU KNOW NOTHING (@lilypadd23) is a slow-burning, blessedly long story that blossoms sweetly. DON’T THINK ABOUT IT is the concept by which Paul measures both his pining for John and their deeply satisfying (but surely not really queer?!) sex life. Perfectly realized Paul POV by @merseydreams. Finally: I NEED YOU DARLIN’ (verse) (by @beatlessideblog) would have fit many categories, but I put it here, because in the end, it’s about young John and Paul becoming friends, making music, having sex, and falling in love. No more, no less. Embedded in a late 50’s/early 60's Liverpool omegaverse in which there's a place for their bond. But, surprise (?!): It’s still complicated. I can’t overstate how charming and satisfying and funny and hot this work is.

Old John and Paul:

Is there anything as lovely as imagining John and Paul growing old together?

In HERE TODAY (@herspecialagent), John and Paul found happiness with each other in Scotland. On 8th December 1980, they invite friends for a party, and fight an inexplicable sense of doom. A reminder that our other lives can be closer than we think, and to keep our loved ones even closer.

GROW OLD WITH ME (@inherownwr1te): Old farmers and husbands John and Paul enjoy domestic bliss, deal with a broken arm, and make sweet love.

HAVING COFFEE (@feathersandblue): John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “one of the most iconic gay couples in history,” look back on their early love, the Beatles, and being outed in the 80’s, in this oh-so-glamourous, well-written 2020 portrait…

Magical re-tellings of J/P and/or the Beatles Story:

No matter where you come down on the blessed vs. cursed continuum—they were living through something magical.

In KISSING THE BLARNEY (@zilabee) the Beatles draw love and music from kissing Paul, and each other, until the stupid world interferes. But fear not, all ends well. How to tell the truth through whimsy: this story demonstrates it.

In WE ARE ALL TOGETHER (also by @zilabee), John and Paul switch bodies. It helps.

I WAS A YOUNGER MAN NOW (THEN) (POST HOC) BY @fingersfallingupwards: Paul is a time traveler and braids his life together with John’s, out of order, through the years. And yes, they do grow old together—but not without losing each other first. I’m in awe of this story.

A darker time-traveling story is A MATTER OF TIME (D12Fan), in which John and Paul love each other, over and over, and never manage to make it work—but Paul won’t give up.

FOR THOUGH THEY MAY BE PARTED (@downtothe-lastdrop): The misery of the 'Get Back' sessions and memory-stunting technology imported from “Severance” are not enough to kill off John and Paul’s attraction and longing for each other. Again, this is basically what happened, so.

John and Paul without the Beatles?

Yes, please! Sometimes, the best way to dissect and celebrate (and fix?) this mesmerizing and exasperating partnership is to lift it from its context and drop it elsewhere. Anything goes.

WHATEVER FATE DECREES by @dailyhowl: A gorgeous, finely spun, securely handled, self-contained vision of how John and Paul could have worked as artists in love, without a band to 'legitimize' and constrain their bond. I love this homage to their deep and complicated love that needed trust and breathing room.

1967 by @walkuntilthedaylight: What if John and Paul had gone to Spain together and not come back? This story not only explores their relationship layer by layer, it also dives into the the feelings of those who knew them 'before' and who now meet them again, as a couple. A fascinating alternate history. Not a fluffy one.

TOMORROW I'LL MISS YOU (@pauls1967moustache): Paul abandons John in Hamburg—or John stays behind without bothering to write, depending on who you ask. This "Before Sunset"—AU reunites them, years later. They ride a bus and write a song, and the love and tension are sweet and painful.

DOUBLE FANTASY (by @javelinbk): Modern AU in which John and Paul meet at John's flower shop and manage to ignore and creatively re-interpret their feelings for one another for a surprising amount of time, before fate has mercy. I love how their sweet, well-matched eccentricity makes the world a warmer place for both of them.

WE ARE STARDUST (Unchained_Daisychain): AU. John and Paul meet at Woodstock, fall hard and fast for each other, and have to decide what to do with it: Paul's life is back home in England...except...

Angst, darkness, and courage:

Pain, fear, grief, and other dark emotions are part of the real J/P story, so it makes sense to honor and harvest them in fiction. One of my favorite brands of McLennon angst is the one triggered by their feelings for each other, and the thing they become once they're together™. When they're scared of how much they need each other, and of what will happen next.

ONE AND ONE AND ONE IS THREE and MANAGING EXPECTATIONS (both by @pauls1967moustache), for instance. The first is a terrifying threesome with Yoko (at John's instigation, of course), in which trust is never rewarded and sex resolves nothing. The second is Paul wondering, in thoughts both messy and crystal clear, whether he exists independently of John. He turns to Brian for answers. They fuck. It feels like a human thing compared to what is going on in Paul's mind. Just astounding.

SUNDAY DRIVER (@boshemians) dives into the theme of Paul and John being afraid of themselves in the aftermath of Paul's accident (moped, sexual) with Tara Browne. This one, like "Managing Expectations," ends on a lovely grace note.

MACABRE (@dovetailjoints). Lennon and McCartney go too far.

OPEN HEART (@paisanas). Paul drinks John's blood. John lets him. But Paul starts to hate himself for how much he needs John, which John feels as rejection. I love how this story ends on Paul embracing his need. You can see the painful, bare bones of their malnourished love under the lush sensuality of the vampire sex. Raw and rich.

SILENCE (@ohjohnnysblog). Short and piercing. If there is someone you love—tell them. Don't wait.

THE LATE, GREAT JOHNNY ACE (@midchelle). Reeling with grief, Paul is recording an album in 1981. George and Ringo are there. John is not. But in the end—he is. And they touch. I've always admired Paul's resilience in the face of having to perform or "prove" his love of John in public, and this story showed me, without sugar-coating, where this resilience comes from.

Light, hope, and fixing things:

There is also much lightness and brightness in McLennon, because John and Paul were ridiculous, and horny, and weird. And also: they deserve a laugh. They deserve the fluffiest of happy endings. They deserve high-quality, life-affirming smut. They deserve silly, because silly is what they were. You know their names, look up their number.

1980. John is in BERMUDA (@scurator), Paul visits. Paul comes prepared, John just comes. Sometimes, it can be this simple. This story always leaves me in such a good mood. Paul is the (more) experienced one, and it...really works for me.

GOT TO GET DOWN (@eveepe): In praise of John's obsession with Paul's...precious. His small and perfect prick.

ADVENTURES IN TOTAL HONESTY (@merseydreams). Pithy and sexy, and, I quote from the tags: #Excessive Margarita Mixing.

ANINUT (@pauls1967moustache): The Beatles heal, together and separately, after Brian's death. Once more, I quote the writer: "The Beatles did not follow any of the Jewish mourning traditions, and frankly, they should have."

The unhinged weirdness of the Mad Day Out, with John and Paul escaping and Francie, Yoko and Mal not missing them...much, is rightfully celebrated in one of the insaner stories I read: JOHN, I'M ONLY DANCING (@skylikeaflame)

FAIR'S FAIR (@javelinbk): John and Paul are being silly during a press conference, resulting in acute arousal requiring John's skilled intervention. I love the unexpected care and tenderness in this one!

WHERE THE POETS WENT (RedheadAmongWolves): Tender and enchanted story in which Paul and John go to a bookstore, where they're not as famous as everywhere else. As delicate as the chiming doorbells and the pages murmuring around them.

TAKEN AWAY (@crumblingcookies) Extraterrestrial Intelligence intervenes to reunite John and Paul.

CAN I TAKE MY FRIEND TO BED? (manhattanvalleys). Paul fucks the band in sequence and gets off in the end, as is his due. This is a story like Prince's KISS. No filler, all effect.

THEY SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY (@ohjohnnysblog). Warm and nostalgic phone sex in the 70's.

KEEP THE LIGHT WE'RE GIVEN (@backbenttulips). Amidst the rise of Beatlemania, Paul and John expect their first child. This is Paul's 1962 diary.

More Outsider POV's:

STILL MATES (@pauls1967moustache): in 1968, Peter Asher takes the leap to act on his feelings for his sister's spiraling ex fiancé. This isn't about Paul as much as about Peter, and who he wants to be. Gutting character study. It made me love Peter.

ANOTHER GIRL (@boshemians): Astrid reunites with the Beatles during the making of AHDN and registers their words and deeds with the same stark objectivity as her camera. I love how she seeks the shelter of obscurity while they are being dragged into the limelight. But she sees them, wherever they are. J/P in this story feels incredibly real to me.

WHY BUY THE COW (RedheadAmongWolves). The milkman sees everything on his early morning rounds: the arrival of a nice new family, the McCartneys, the mother's illness, the sadness after her death...and the arrival of a new love in the older son's life. He shouldn't approve—should say something, in fact. But a small inner voice holds him back.

SLEEPLESS IN WALES (thinkpink20). Mike overhears Paul and John whisper in bed. He doesn't understand everything they say. I do. Adorable.

Not each other's first love, but each other's true love

THIS YEAR'S FOR ME AND YOU (@skylikeaflame): After a long life, after deep and loving partnerships with other people, John and Paul, encouraged by their grown-up children, finally meet their mutual love head on. A festive story about waiting the perfect amount of time.

THERE ARE ALWAYS FLOWERS (tarenas): The Beatles are in the past; John and Paul's love is in ashes. Paul, who is fragile and bereft, lives with George, who is content. The four ex-Beatles unite for the second wedding of Mike McCartney. At times, the aching grief in this story is almost unbearable. But the love between George and Paul is unusual and real. This is unfinished. I'll keep waiting for the final chapter.

Beyond J/P

WANT ME WHEN I'M NOT THERE (@backbenttulips): Linda catches Paul cheating on her with John. She divorces him. Finally: a story that puts her most likely reaction front and center, with no mercy for the messed-up geniuses.

In the Rebecca-AU LOVE LIKE GHOSTS (@backbenttulips), Yoko becomes Mrs. Lennon. Soon, she discovers that her husband is haunted by the ghost of his first love. It's pleasing how well this re-telling matches the events as they (alas) (almost) happened. The ending is chilling. Genuinely horrifying. I love seeing Yoko as the sensible one and as the focus of empathy.

THE BASS LESSON (@aquarianshift). Paul and Stu fool around without letting go of their mutual resentment for even a moment. And it works. "Let's never do this again." I don't think so.

TELL ME ALL MY LOVE'S IN VAIN (@midchelle). Forget about quote unquote platonically obsessed male rock stars: This about about Maureen and Patti through the years. The web weaving continues.

SPOTLIGHT ON JOHN AND STU (@dailyhowl) A love story in letters—too brief, like Stu's life, but sounding as if the writer transcribed their dictation. Some of the best descriptions of what it must have been like to play on stage with the Beatles during the mania are in NO I IN THREESOME (@with-eyes-closed). George finds himself in the beam of attention between John and Paul, and nearly loses his mind. But he's determined to stay and become part of them. Paul is daddy and "fucks like music" as seen through George's eyes. The whole story is vicious and hot and uncomfortable—until there's the love and quiet at the eye of the storm.

Not for the faint of heart! WHAT THE CIGGIE CARTON SAW (@waveofhand): Paul McCartney having his way with cigarettes.

This is getting out of hand...but I'll stop here. There are so many more stories I love. And I can think of many other categories that would deserve their own post.

So, who knows: To be continued?

[avonne-writes]

Carry You Home

A post-war kitty Gale (cat shifter Gale) drabble written for the "LCAPT fic off" game initiated by @middlingmay. And it’s a gift for @butdaddyilovehim99 💕 Featuring the most Gale-looking cat pic ever. Thanks @swifty-fox for brainstorming with me! (On AO3)

The sticky seed of some unfamiliar weed sticks to the fur on Gale’s legs, but he ignores the uncomfortable tugging sensation and just keeps running. Away, far away, anywhere but here. He’s done with this whole charade. To hell with it all. John can go find some other fool who can stand his goddamn womanizing.

Gale doesn’t care that it's only a facade. Sometimes, he wants to be the one being wooed and not watch John flirt with someone else. He thought... He thought they would go on a date, just the two of them, to the pretty creek in the woods close to town. All the exciting, cheerful sounds of the forest, the clear air, enough space and privacy for Gale to shift back and forth when he wanted. But John had to ruin it by chatting up three women who were on a walk.

They could have let the ladies pass and waited to be alone again, but John just had to do it, didn’t he? Maybe he didn’t want to be alone with Gale at all. He could have been looking for an excuse to cut their date short all along. Instead of laughing and walking with Gale, he charmed those girls until they were drawn to him like moths to the light, and Gale, sour in his disappointment, was left to trail behind until they finally parted ways.

Then, the fight. That terrible fight. It wasn’t too decent of Gale to snap the way he did, but it hurt so much to watch John flash his best smile at the girls, to touch their arms under one excuse or another, the way he should have touched Gale instead. Gale's tired of it. He can’t stand it anymore, to see the affection that's meant to be his given to another while he’s right there.

John didn’t understand - or didn’t want to - so, Gale shifted and ran away. It didn’t take more than five seconds and he was out of John's sight. Being small makes it easier to hide among the bushes. To disappear. He doesn’t matter anyway. He’s no one. Perhaps, he won't ever shift back again. Why bother? He’ll just live the rest of his years as a wildcat, nothing but the forest and the freedom of no expectations. He can live alone and -

"Gale!" John's cry interrupts Gale's thoughts. "Gale, please! Come on, doll, don't do this to me."

Gale stops to crouch low in the underbrush, his heart pounding wildly. His coat is too bright and clean to hide him among all the greens, browns and greys around, but he’s covered by a few thick shrubs and wide leaves where he is. He curls his fluffy tail close to his body and waits. He won't be spotted unless he moves.

"I'm sorry, okay?" John tells the forest plaintively. The canopies above them whoosh in sympathy. "I didn’t mean to hurt you, sweetheart, I didn’t mean it like that."

What you meant doesn't change anything, Gale makes a low, angry sound that John, thankfully, doesn't hear as he jogs down the path in front of Gale's hiding place.

"Shit." John mutters under his breath and runs a hand through his curls. At first, Gale thinks it's because of Gale not folding to his pleading, but a moment later, he sees the fake, wide smile that appears on John's face.

"Egan? That you?" An unfamiliar voice calls, and Gale is alarmed to see a stocky, middle-aged man with a camera approach John from the opposite direction they came from.

"Frank, buddy, the hell are you doin' out here?" John says and clasps the man's outstretched hand in greeting.

Frank launches into a long-winded story about bird watching and photography, and how his wife kicked him out of the house just to get some peace. From his vantage point under the shrubs, low on the cool forest soil, Gale can see John nodding along politely, but his eyes keep darting to the woods, searching for a flash of white that gives Gale away. After a while, Frank notices too.

"Everything okay?" He asks John, concerned.

"Yeah, just looking for my... my cat." John replies awkwardly, putting his hands on his hips the way he always does. Despite his pain and anger, Gale feels a tinge of fondness at the sight.

"You brought your cat out here?" Frank frowns. There’s something like pity in his expression, which makes Gale huff in irritation. Everything their generation does is chalked up to the fucking war, isn’t it?

"He likes going on walks with me." John says, fully turning away. "Gale!"

"Gale? Like your roommate?" Frank asks, his eyebrows trying to meet his receding hairline.

John falters for a moment, embarrassed that he slipped up in his panic to find Gale. "It’s a joke."

"Oh." Frank's face smooths out and he barks a laugh. "Let me help, the two of us will find him faster."

"Oh, I don't want to keep you."

"Nonsense." Frank claps John's shoulder. "My wife says my eyes are so keen I should've been a detective."

John chuckles good-naturedly. "If she says so, Frankie."

Frank walks towards the woods on the opposite side of the path from where Gale’s hiding. "What does your cat look like?"

John sighs. "Cream-white fur, white paws, bushy tail. Piercing blue eyes. As big as a small dog."

Sounds about right, Gale notes with satisfaction. He glares daggers at John. He hopes he can feel it.

Frank whistles. "Must be one mighty creature."

Gale preens. The sad look on John's face is especially vindicating.

"The most beautiful thing I've ever seen." John says quietly as he starts walking along the treeline again. "He's my best friend, you know. My partner. I just wish I knew what's going on in his head. It’s so hard to read him sometimes, and I don't realize I've done something wrong until it’s too late. I just want to make him happy, keep him safe."

An ache swells deep in Gale's chest and rolls through his whole body until the bitterness of his anger fades away to the illusion of salty tears. He can’t cry in this shape but he wants to. He wants it to rain down over his cheeks in big, fat drops, over the scars, for John to wipe and kiss them away, to whisper promises he can’t keep and tell Gale he loves him more than anything. He wants that, still - it hurts, but he wants it. As his impulsiveness vanishes, he realizes that life in the forest wouldn’t suffice. He would always long for Bucky.

"Sounds like a marriage." Frank snorts, shaking a few bushes that sends nearby critters running across the fallen leaves. Gale hears them scurry away from where he is.

"You bet." John laughs ruefully. "Feels like one too."

The cry escapes Gale’s throat before he could clamp down on the feeling that sparks it. It's a quiet, sad little meow but it stands out from the forest's low buzz regardless.

John's head whips up in his direction. "Gale?"

No use hiding anymore. Gale pushes himself up and walks out of the underbrush like some kicked pet, putting his paws on the path hesitantly because he’s not sure yet if he's ready to forgive everything or not. His tail rises in greeting, but when John darts towards him with a beaming, relieved smile on his face, Gale hisses at him.

"I'm sorry!" John raises his hands placatingly, then, in a quieter voice, "I'm sorry, doll."

"Oh my! What a beauty!" Frank exclaims when he spots Gale, his expression one of wonder.

Feeling shy and wary, Gale rushes over to John and weaves himself around his ankles, putting his front paws on John's right boot as he stares the stranger down. He doesn’t know where the hell the guy knows John from, doesn’t care - he just wants him to leave them alone, to give him a chance to shift back and let John give him a proper apology. He’s so focused on keeping his eyes on the man that he forgets he's angry long enough for John to stroke his head. But when the touch reminds him, he growls.

"Don’t be like that." John nudges him, then reaches lower to remove the spikelets stuck in Gale's fur. Irritated beyond belief, Gale bites his fingers, satisfied when John winces, but the hand doesn’t move far - it slides over Gale's back and combs at his fur.

"Hi Gale." Frank crouches down a few feet away, cooing like an idiot. Gale gives him a disdainful look. Honestly, this is the worst thing about being a cat. Interacting with people who want to touch him. "You weren't kidding when you said he was pretty. Never seen such a gorgeous cat in my life. What a unique colour. His fur is immaculate. And look at those eyes! Damn."

"I know." John says, all affectionate. If he thinks that's enough to make up with Gale, he’s sorely mistaken. "Sky blue."

Gale leans against John's leg. A part of him enjoys the praise. People always tend to heap it on him in this shape but never say anything when he's in his human form. His mom, for example, when he still lived in Wyoming. The only exceptions to that are Marge and John, the only people who saw the value in giving him compliments no matter how he stood in front of them. Gale learnt to take appreciation where he got it, even if it was received as a cat. Frank, of course, is unaware that Gale, the cat, and Gale, John's roommate are one and the same, but his words of awe feel good. Gale extends his legs in front of him and stretches, showing off his looks.

"If I were you, I would put a collar on him." Frank says.

"Nah, he's pretty good about comin' home to papa." John replies, a teasing note in his voice. For that, Gale reaches up to drag his clawed paws over the leg of John's trousers until John yelps and pushes him off. Frank laughs.

"Boy, my wife will be so jealous." He shakes his head, smiling. "Can I pet him?"

Gale’s answering noise of warning comes instantly.

"Ah, he doesn’t like strangers, sorry, Frankie." John says for him. Good. At least that much of Gale's feelings he does understand.

Frank waves him off and stands up. "I understand. I would love to photograph him, though. Proof for the missus." He winks.

John chuckles. Gale tilts his head back to glance at him and finds him looking back. Something he sees in Gale's eyes encourages him to reach down and scoop Gale up into his arms. It’s easier to let him than to protest.

"Why not?"

---

About a dozen photos later, John finally tries to say goodbye to Frank, but they're unlucky - the man decides to go the same way John's headed. He must be lonely, Gale figures, but it doesn't make it any less annoying that for lack of a graceful way to get out of the situation, John starts walking with the man while holding Gale in his arms.

It's comfortable, at least. Holding Gale just right in both forms has always been one of John's special talents. This time, Gale's paws dangle over his arm and his head rests in the crook of John's elbow. Since John can’t exactly put him down when he has just caught Gale after he ran away, it’s no use fighting it.

Resigned, Gale relaxes. He’s just a cat now. Loved and cherished openly where everyone can see. Something precious John can hold tight right where his heart beats, and no one bats an eye.

It’s bittersweet, but Gale will take it. The fight seeped out of him somewhere between John calling him his partner and the first apologetic caress over his silky fur. Gale tunes the conversation out and just drifts on the sense of peace and safety he feels in John's arms as the gentle sounds of the forest ripple around them along the path. After a few minutes, he falls asleep.

He doesn’t know how much time passed when he wakes up, but he’s still lying in John's arms, still warm against John's chest, but Frank is, at last, gone. They're almost at the edge of the forest, close to where their truck parks.

"Jesus Christ, finally." John blows out a noisy breath and swipes his thumbs back and forth over Gale’s fur. "Coast's clear if you wanna shift back."

Gale lets his eyes slip closed again and doesn’t move a single other muscle. He can feel John trying to lean over him to see his face better.

"Did you fall asleep?" John rocks him. As a reply, Gale moves his head in a way that looks like he’s saying no. It makes John snort. "Are you still mad at me?"

When no answer comes, John presses his face close to Gale. "Let’s talk about it."

Another shake of the head.

"What, you want me to hold you the rest of the way?"

Gale nods.

John laughs, sweet and rumbling against Gale's body. "All right, doll. I got you. I'll carry you home."

Although he knows he shouldn't, Gale purrs.

[phoenixtakaramono]

Butchlander for C, R, W :3

(This Ask is regarding this.) ( ˘ ³˘)♥

C = Cum (where does your muse prefer to cum/have someone cum)

Both men like to creampie their partners. It’s canon. For Butcher, in S4, as well as revealing that Butcher had cheated on Becca years ago with a waitress, Joe Kessler asks him where his “soft spot for supes” started: “Was it when you shot your load and creampied Maeve?” As much as I despise cheater!Butcher now being canon, at the very least since this has now been written into the show, this better not be a throwaway line; I’d like to think the writers are setting up foreshadowing for a S5 payoff, especially with the Butcher/Maeve scene that Kripke asserted was included for a reason. In the comics, Maeve had a secret child with The Legend which resulted in Blarney Cøck and in the comics “Ryan” had been a baby Butcher stomped to death. I smell a potential comic reference setup, especially with evil Butcher era in S5. I HC, with Butcher at least, he would be a little more careful (if he’s not pissed drunk) and wear a condom. Or if he’s in a risky mood, he’ll pull out to stroke himself to release—before pushing his dick back in.

For Homelander, I presume since he’d always thought his seed wouldn’t take, he operated under the belief he’d been shooting blanks all this time. Which equates to, he doesn’t need protection. Most impotent men would feel insecure about their masculinity so, likewise, with Homelander, he’s likely brainwashed himself into thinking: well, it’s probably a good thing he cannot get ordinary mudpeople pregnant; he’s genetically perfect; he’s a god. His seed is too powerful for ordinary unworthy mudpeople. If anyone’s going to be carrying his child, it’d be with someone like Maeve (if only she’d get pregnant). But, irony of all ironies, he got Becca pregnant. This man does not use protection. He sticks it in and will finish inside you whether you want it or not.

You cannot teach an old dog new tricks. So if John the Homelander and William J. Butcher were to hookup or get into a relationship, their breeding kink fundamentally wouldn’t change. Billy, just to be an ornery bastard, would probably be the one in the relationship to at least ask if Homelander had been tested for STIs because he does not want to catch anything from this, which high-key offends Homelander and would earn a reactionary splutter along the lines of: “I’m a fucking god, William; I do not need to be t-tested; how dare you lump me in with other pathetic mortals? I’m clean. My blood’s probably purer than the rest of you.” (You cannot tell me, with the show’s bigotry connotations, that he wouldn’t say something like this.)

So, we’ve established both men cum inside. Billy Butcher would 100% cum inside Homelander. Sometimes, when the whim hits, he’d pull out early before ørgasm and stroke himself until he cums over the blond cunt’s gaping arsehole or over the curve of his back. Or, if Billy’s feeling a particular mood, he grunts for Homelander to turn over and to open his mouth for him so he can finish himself off, shooting all over Homelander’s face and his waiting tongue; or after releasing, he orders Homelander to get on his knees and clean his prick off (cards his fingers into his gelled blond hair, messing it up further, and breathlessly calls him a “good boy” whilst Homelander, still in his subspace, dreamily laps up any salty precum and sucks him off). Homelander’s usually prim and proper in their day-to-day so it satisfies something in Butcher seeing his load(s) drip out of him. I wager it’s a huge power-trip and turn-on for Billy, seeing the most powerful man in the world hungry for his cock. In Billy’s head, he’s doing the world a favor—preventing this monster from reproducing and creating more Homelander mini-me’s.

Both high-key and lowkey, I HC that Homelander likes the physical intimacy of feeling Billy pulsate and nut inside him. There’s just something primal about doing it raw—and being “bred” by his former archenemy. With Homelander being a vainglorious narcissist, there’s likely also the instinctual smugness and psychological reassurance of knowing that his bussy game’s so good, it’s made William J. Butcher—the man who notoriously hates him—cum inside. There’s also the feeling of ownership—of being “branded by,” possessed and “loved” so intensely by someone. He’s so desperate for intimacy, for that genuine human connection with someone, he’d find it very ironic but poetically fitting that he’s found it in the arms of the enemy.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I say it depends on various factors: what the risk entails, the appropriateness of the situation, their circumstances, the timing, the venue, and their mood, but yes they’re usually game to experiment and take risks. Both of them are impulsive, self-destructive maelstroms. Whether it’s stealing a moment for a quickie whilst Homelander’s on patrol or the both of them knowing they are seconds away from being caught with Billy’s crew just outside the doors, when you put these two men together, it often escalates to impromptu bad decisions made in the heat of the moment. They are each other’s worst enabler.

I’d like to think it’s also a big turn-on for the both of them. When one of them is particularly resistant for whatever reason, the other party taunts and eggs them on, and then it becomes a competition where the other party cannot resist the want to rub their win in the other’s face. Sure it might be inappropriate to do the horizontal mambo on The Seven conference table during office hours think of all the trouble they’d get into with HR if found out, but have you considered that William/Homelander called him a chicken? Their pride’s on the line here. Their ego, their masculinity, is at stake. If they do not prove the other person wrong, that person will have ammunition for the rest of their lives.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

The costume and cape stay on during sex, same with the boots and/or socks. Homelander’s costume is a symbol, and it gets Billy fueled with ire hatefucking him with his pants shoved down. It’s like this meme:

…except Billy probably shoves those “tactical trousers” and uncomfortable synthetic vinyl-looking eagle-mesh pants down Homelander’s arse and just penetrates him raw Homelander’s lucky that Billy is considerate enough that he won’t go in dry (plus, he’d chafe); at least he’d spit down there if there’s no “nice, big family-sized bottle of top shelf lube” readily available for either of them to use. The pants could easily be torn away by either him or Homelander, although it’s funnier to think of Billy being the one doing it because you get Homelander throwing a hissy fit being all like:

Homelander: Really? This is my one suit, you heathen. You couldn’t have been more delicate with it?

Billy: *smirks* Nah.

For Homelander, the suit serves as a defense mechanism. It’s his armor; it’s his shield. Like everyone else, he has his body image insecurities (like irl models/ celebrities, I presume he has to give some consideration to his caloric intake, his weight, any sign of weight gain, or aging, etc). Removing his costume and exposing his body to his partner takes a lot of trust and emotional vulnerability. Plus, there’s usually no time to strip all the way down. It’s usually a wild and rough tussle between them.

I will have to say, if Billy manages to get Homelander bare and exposed, he’s usually a lot gentler than normal. Because he’s not fucking Homelander; he’s making love to John. It’s a subtle but important distinction.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇

Part 3, chapter 1- run bitch, run!

Series masterlist

It doesn’t seem like it but rafe and reader will have their comeback I swear 🙏🏽 this is just more buildup.

Summary: the secret thing with Rafe has been weighing down on you, moving weed turns into a nightmare, and you and your brother are at odds for a while.

“We’re gonna be fine, dude. Quit stressing so much.” You told John B when you pulled up.

You all got outside, you stretching as they began to walk. You followed.

“I don’t… I don’t know about this.”

“Bro, you’re worrying way too much about this, okay? It is just farmers who brought organic seeds from South America that we are gonna unload.”

“Yeah. It’s usually a pretty easy job. I mean, I gotta grinder and a pre roll if it’ll help calm your nerves.” You offered, pulling both out your pocket.

“It won’t, thanks. It’s a drug-smuggling operation.”

“Do you wanna get your dad or not?” JJ asked.

“Yes, I do! Okay? Look, this has to work out, all right? I doubted him, and I blamed him. And all this time, he was just trying to protect me. And now he’s been abducted so I kinda need a bit of -“

“John b, no! Okay, listen, listen, I know.” JJ exclaimed, putting his hands on JBs shoulders, all of you stopping in your tracks. “You know who you’re gonna have to trust right now? Papa J.”

“Papa J?” You snorted, laughing at the name.

“Shut up. I got this, 100%.”

“I mean, 60% would be good, honestly.” John B mumbled, continuing to walk.

“Holy shit, look at that thing.”

“Yeah, dude, it’s like an RV with wings.”

“They’re already unloading.” You pointed out, watching them put it into the U-Haul.

“Yo! We aren’t late, are we?” JJ asked.

“Nope, there was a change of plan though. “ Mike walked towards the three of you.

“Oh, uh, okay.”

“You three, are gonna drive the truck up to Elizabeth city to make the drop. The address is in the truck. There’ll be a dummy car for you to use to come back. The plane’ll still be waitin’.”

“Right, okay, so, um, you just want us to drive the truck?” You asked.

“Correct.”

“Can I like… flash you a titty or something instead? Shit, there a bed anywhere?” You glanced around, trying to laugh it off. But the man’s face was serious.

“Funny.” He remarked, looking down at you. JJ was gonna take the keys before John B pulled him.

“Actually, can I borrow ‘em for one second?”

“Hey, hey, this is not what we talked about. This is way more dangerous.”

“Not to mention they’re looking for John B right now, anyone sees him, we’re all done for.” You spoke quietly.

“It don’t matter what we talked about, in for a penny, in for a pound. You do this, you get your ride.”

“Yeah, it’s just that-“

“If not, you know how this works, right?” He looked at you, leaning down.

You all glanced around, there was no other option.

“Now, highway patrol is changing shifts as we speak. This is the window, take it to the drop house on prospect. Directions are in the truck. Any luck, we’ll have you back before sundown.” Mike chuckled, holding the keys out again.

“C’mon. Take the key.”

“Yeah, c’mon, get in the fuckin’ truck.” You mumbled, taking the keys and getting in the drivers seat.

“How are we gonna fit?” JJ asked, watching you start the truck.

“Sit on each others lap.” You shrugged. “Or someone just crouch down in the middle.”

JJ ended squatting down into the middle, bumping around with every movement. John B sat in the seat.

“You have any idea what’s in the back of this truck?” He asked JJ.

“Yes, John B, I know what’s in the back. And it’s gonna be fine, it’s gonna work out, okay?”

“I’m sick of your bullshit plans, man.”

“Goddamn.”

“No, I’m just saying this might top the time you told me to fake appendicitis in jail.”

“Yeah, and that almost worked.”

“Can you get the map out? I got no fuckin’ clue where I’m goin’ right now.”

John B held in.

“All right, we need to get to 158, okay?”

You ripped the page out, looking at it.

“Cop. Y/n, there’s a cop.” John B said, you and JJ looking at the car.

You put the paper away, heart racing.

“Shit.”

“Okay, play it cool, alright?”

“I’m playing it cool. You play it cool.”

“I’m super cool.” John B defended, leaning against the window.

“I’m as cool as it gets, alright?”

You were indeed not as cool as it gets. You brought your hand up, waving with an akward smile as you passed. “Hi, officer.”

John B grabbed your hand, making you pull onto the side and off the road, all of you shouting over each other.

“Oh my God he’s getting in the car. John B, he’s gettin’ in the fucking car!” You shouted, the sirens wailed and you groaned. “Damn it!”

“Dude, goblin mode, alright? We gotta lose him, okay?” JJ exclaimed.

“Goblin mode? What does that even mean, JJ?!”

“That’s what we gotta do!”

“Shut up and hang the fuck onto something!” You shouted over them, JJ grabbing onto the seats as you sped up, before swerving directly into the forest.

“Get out, get out!” You shouted at the both of them, both of them running.

“I swear to God, JJ if we get through this I’m gonna kill you!” John B told him, running past the trees.

“You probably won’t have to because barracuda Mike will first.”

“How the fuck does she run so fast?!” JJ asked when he lost sight of you, looking around and catching his breath for a moment. He saw you sprinting for your life behind the trees and both started running again.

˚⊹ ʚɞ♡︎ ˚⋅.

“Listen, I been going through it over and over and over again, okay? You said it yourself, right? The only way this thing goes south is my dad. Alright, we gotta nip that shit in the bud. We gotta take him out.”

Barry sat back, watching Rafe pace around.

“And anyway, who’s gonna know? He’s already dead, you can’t kill someone who’s already dead.” He stopped his pacing for a moment, looking at Barry now.

“Hey, if my pop stays here, all right, our deal, us doing business together, using the company to launder the money, all that fifty-fifty shit…”

“Mmm-hmm…”

“All that’s gone.”

Barry leaned in. “So what you’re asking me right now… is something that once it’s done, cannot be undone. There’s no going back. I’m talkin’ bout your family, talking about your pops, talking about your blood. And blood complicates things.”

He took a sip, pausing. “Hypothetically speaking, let’s say I do it. And then, for whatever reason, you decide to change your mind… sell me out.”

Race shook his head. “No. Yeah, this has been a long time coming.” Rafe leaned in closer now. “He’s always had his boot on my neck. Holding me down. That’s all gonna be over soon.”

Rafe stood up, walking away. “I’m not changing my mind.”

Barry took the handful of cash in his hands, this kid was becoming fucked up.

˚⊹ ʚɞ♡︎ ˚⋅.

You stopped on the road, panting heavily and groaning, laying on the ground, JJ and John B coming up from behind.

“My dad.. is somewhere in South America, probably with a knife to his throat, and what are we doing? Moving weight?” John B panted. “In goblin mode?”

“What does that even mean, Jj?!”

“How many times will you complain about me trying to help save your dad?” He shouted.

“Help is the exact opposite of what you’re doing right now!”

“You know what? You’re right. You’re absolutely right. But you know whose fault that is? You and your treasure obsessed father.”

John B shoved JJ, you standing up and watching the exchange. Jj laughed, falling back.

“Oh, okay! That’s where we’re going?”

“Yeah, that’s where we’re going.”

“Yeah, and it looks like we just went there too!” JJ shoved John B.

You shook your head at them, watching them push and shove at each other.

You got inbetween when it became too much, John B going to attack JJ.

“Enough!” You shouted at them at the top of your lungs, pushing them away from each other. The shout scared away nearby birds and might as well have shook the damn trees.

“Fighting each other isn’t gonna help us do shit! Are you guys fucking out of your minds?” You pointed to your temple, looking at the both of them.

“I don’t even wanna hear it from you, y/n!”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” You shouted at your brother, you shoving him now. You both fought, pushing and shoving him onto the ground.

“Get off me!” He shouted, punching your chest.

“Fuck you, JJ!”

A siren wailed, making both of you pause your movements and look at the sound. John B’s eyes widened, you getting off of JJ, fixing your hair.

“Howdy, boys. And girl.”

“Sup, shoupe?” JJ nodded.

“You guys okay?”

“Yeah, we’re uh, you know, just, um… we’re, we’re good.” John B said, fixing his clothes and watching as Shoupe reached underneath the Twinkie.

“Tracker. Makes it a lot easier to keep an eye on you hoodlums.”

“Hoodlums?” You scoffed, and began to walk up to shoupe, JJ and John B pulling you back with an eye roll.

“All units, evidence team is en route to the abandoned U-haul. Over.”

“Copy that.” Shoupe spoke.

“Sounds like duty calls. So uhm… we we wouldn’t wanna hold you up.” JJ pointed, beginning to walk. “So we’ll get out of your hair.”

“Hold on a minute. We just found a U-haul full of drugs. Out near 158. Y’all wouldn’t happen to be involved in that, would you?” JJ looked at John B.

“You see that? That’s profiling, John B.”

“I know.”

“And I really don’t appreciate it.”

“Just cause we’re pogues doesn’t mean we’re drug dealers. No, no, we’re not that desperate now, shoupe.” You told him.

“I can see the grinder sticking out your pocket.” He pointed.

You looked down, eyes widening and pushing it back down.

“I don’t deal.” You shrugged.

“Nah, you been too busy beating people up and breaking up parties. Huh?” He looked at John B now.

“Okay, there’s an explanation-“ JJ started, but was cut off.

“I hate to break it to you, kid, but I’ve got a warrant.”

“Wh- a- a warrant?” John B asked.

“Toppers pressing charges.”

“Hold up-“

“What?”

“For what? No, he started it!”

“He did start it!”

All of you talked over each other, John B being pulled over to the van.

“Are you serious?”

“Hands up against the van.”

You threw your hands up in defeat. Jesus you just couldn’t win.

“Shoupe- I didn’t even- this time, I didn’t even do anything, okay?”

“Shoupe, do you know what topper did to John B?” You asked.

“No, but I know what your boy here did.” He put John B in handcuffs. “He beat him in front of the whole town.”

“Yeah, which is-“ you tried to defend.

“And kept beating him after he was down, and Topper may be a douche but you know better than that.”

Shoupe dragged John B over to the cop car.

“Shoupe! Come on, he was messing with John B’s girl. You’d do the same.”

“Shoupe, I get it, okay? But I can’t be locked up right now.” John B told him.

“Well, you should’ve thought of that beforehand.”

“Come on man, we’re doing this again? I don’t have time for this”. He spoke, getting in the backseat.

“Come on.”

“JJ, please.”

“He didn’t do shit too.” He stepped to the side, you standing next to him.

“You know!”

“You both stay safe and stay outta trouble.” Shoupe told you both, stepping inside.

“Hey, John B. Listen, we’re gonna fix it. We’re gonna get down to South America and save your dad.” JJ came up, talking to him.

John B nodded.

“Promise, okay?” You told him.

“Back it up, buddy, we got to go.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll figure it out. We’ll save your dad, okay?” JJ followed the car as it moved. “You hear me John B? We’re gonna get him!”

You and JJ watched as the car moved, you two staring at the road.

“Shit.” You muttered, kicking a rock on the ground and leaning against the Twinkie, your hands over your face.

˚⊹ ʚɞ♡︎ ˚⋅.

You and JJ stood far away from each other back at the Chateau, everyone else talking amongst themselves while you sat in the corner. Your head was hung low, looking at the ground. Your head snapped up at the sound of the door opening.

“Welcome back.”

“Woah.”

“Good to see you, man.”

“You gotta be kidding me.” JJ mumbled, looking up at John B with a smile.

John B walked towards them all, JJ sitting in the tree.

“I have something i wanna share with you guys. I can get us down to the Orinoco.”

“Are you serious?”

“Okay. And how’s that gonna happen?” Cleo asked her.

“My dad’s gonna let us use the plane.”

“Ward?” You and JJ spoke in unison.

“Your dad?”

“Yep. We lay low tonight, then wheels up first thing in the morning.

“Okay.. that’s a lot to process, your dad actually helping us.”

“I talked to him. He’ll do it.”

“So we trusting Ward now?” Cleo asked.

“Trust Sarah.”

JJ rubbed the back of his neck, still skeptical.

“But wait, i also just have one more thing to say. Um… Since we’ve gotten back from the island, I’ve done some things that I regret. A lot.”

Amen to that, sister, you thought, quietly laughing.

“Yeah, uh…” John B cleared his throat. “I feel… i feel like we’ve all done a thing or two that we regret.”

JJ scoffed from the tree, nodding.

“And I don’t… Poguelandia, guys. It’s all I’ve been able to think about. We were all together on that island, and it was a good thing, and I don’t want to ruin a good thing. And I.. I just wanna know, are we still all in? Are we still all together?”

You rubbed the back of your neck, looking up at JJ.

“Because I am.”

“Yeah.” Kiara whispered, hugging her.

They all laughed and hugged, JJ walking over to them.

“Let’s go get Big John, all right? What do you say there, shit bird?” He looked to John B.

“I think this deserves a woogity. How long are you gonna pretend you’re not coming over here? You too, y/n!” Pope glanced over at you, you sighed and stood up, going next to them.

“Come over here.”

You smiled as you all got into a group hug.

“Now we woogity!”

“Oh, we’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

“We’re doing it, man!”

“Mm-hmm.”

They all sat down, chatting with each other. You sat alone, until JJ suddenly sat down on the steps next to you.

“Hey.” You mumbled to him, remembering the fight you both had earlier.

“Hi.” He handed you a beer bottle, you smiling and taking it from his hands.

“Look, I know I’ve been.. weird, lately-“

“You don’t say.” He teased, small smile playing on his lips. You nudged him.

“Anyways, I’m just going through a lot. It’s rough. And honestly? I’m still upset over Rafe. And dad. And everything, really. God, I can’t keep a stable job or a house.”

He sighed, leaning back a bit. “I know what you mean.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been a little bit of an asshole.”

“I haven’t been a saint either.” He shrugged. “I’m… sorry, too.”

“Wow, my brother apologizing? What universe is this?” You laughed, he rolled his eyes and laughed with you.

“It’s hard as fuck, you know? The place that we grew up in, and even though we might have some terrible memories, it sucks. It’s all… gone, and everything’s, I dunno, different?”

“Yeah. I know. I think I’m gonna work on becoming your legal guardian.”

“Wait, you serious?” He turned to you with furrowed eyebrows.

You sighed. “You’re 16, dad’s missing to the police and you don’t got anyone else are far as I’m concerned.”

“Yeah but you’re just a… terrible parent. Not my first choice.” He tilted his head to the side, joking.

“Oh, shut up. Be lucky I even like you.” You ruffled his hair, making him laugh and attempt to push your hand away

“You know, tell me more about you and Rafe.” He said suddenly, and leaned against the steps.

“Why would you want me to tell you that?”

He shrugged. “I just wanna know what you saw in him. He’s insufferable.”

“He’s not that insufferable if you know him.” You shrugged. “He’s sweet… when he wants to be.”

“Mm, yeah right. I don’t believe it.”

“He can be. He just… has some really bad daddy issues and is a little insane.”

“Oh, so he’s the male version of you?”

Ylu rolled your eyes, lightly shoving him and smiling. “No, what I was getting at was that he’s messed up, but just like anyone else he had his reasons.” You paused.

“So how did you guys even meet?”

“He met me at my job a few years back, we talked for a while, hit it off, and we mostly just hooked up for the most part until he asked me to date him. That was like… last year?”

“Damn. So you guys woulda been dating for almost a year?”

“Like 9 months, yeah. But I really loved him, as messed up as he was. Think a part of me still does.”

“Huh.” He mumbled, looking back out in front of him.

“Yeah. Now what about you and Kie? What’s that all about?” You raised your eyebrows, he groaned and threw his head back.

˚⊹ ʚɞ♡︎ ˚⋅.

Taglist: @cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow @saintnourah

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Hi! I saw your alejandro NSFW alphabet and I was in love! Mind doing a John price NSFW alphabet if you are comfortable?

Absolutely comfortable with my favorite dilf omg 🥵 took me a while since I'm working on other requests and I'm sorry bout that but I hope you're still around here! also I'm so SORRY this is so LONG, couldn't help myself!!! Hope you enjoy even so 😭 To work:

TW: NSFW, SMUT. MINORS DNI!

John Price NSFW Alphabet

masterlist | ao3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

There will always be plenty of it, even if he's in a bad mood, even if he's really pissed at you: he'll always love praising his babydoll the most. After he's done with you and absolutely sure your thighs are sliding from the slick that's still down there and exhausted from intensely riding him, he'll hold you fondly against his bear chest and kindly brush his worn fingers through your hair, caressing that very soft spot in your scalp. Although you're in his office and it's kind of necessary for you to get ready and leave quickly before someone can come in and catch you fucking your captain, he'll take his time and offer you a drag of his cigar, and find it very adorable if you inhale wrong and cough; "Gotta let the smoke get to your lungs, love, inhale... that's right, good. Now let go... there you go." he'll say, while his fingertips brush deliciously calmly your bare back, contouring your spine; if you don't choke and is actually an avid smoker like himself, he'll be glad to share and will offer you cigarettes or cigars from his pack evertyime he feels like.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

You'd hardly say he has a favorite body part of yours, because he'll spare no efforts in worshiping it whole - every part of it. If he absolutely had to pick one particular thing, he'd probably say your thighs and legs. Before the two of you engaged in a official relationship, it wasn't often he could see them because you'd mostly wear those average cargo pants; the very first time you accepted to go out with the team and not so unintentionally decided to wear that damn tiny dress, your thighs started living rent free in your cap's mind. He had a hard time staring them all night long, craving it as the dress kept riding up your thighs while you danced - against other men. Almost like you were challenging him in finally coming to you after days of incessant innuendo and stares at work.

As for himself, he loves his hairy, perfumed and broad chest. He feels vivid like he doesn't in much time when you brush those small soft hands of yours across it, when you're with them all over him like you own him - particularly in those times you feel jelly when you see some other woman staring at him. Like stating he's your man. He loves it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Before the two of you made a commitment, he was very careful with it. By that time, you getting pregnant could be a very big problem for both of you - not only because you're considerably younger than him, but mostly because he is your boss. Your captain. That could come off the wrong way for his superiors, could hurt both of your reputations. He'd grab a twisted handful of your hair, his other hand digging tight on your waist as he digs, buries his cock deep within your swollen walls - your leg bent, resting over the desk and your cunt so exposed your clit rubs lightly on the wooden surface each time he thrusts - you're going insane. You came minutes ago and there he is still fucking you dumb, making you bite your own cheeks trying to keep your voice down, till suddenly contact's broken and he steps back, pumping his cock a few times only to release his spend on your beautiful thigh, with a muffled groan. "Bloody fuckin'- ah, doll, y' gonna kill me like that..."

Today's day with the two of you dating, nothing will get him more relaxed than forcing his seed inside you, watching his own cum drip through your folds once he pulls off - and he'll gladly tell you after, that he really hopes it catches this time.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's been watching you closely from your very first day of work. He'd never tell you or anyone else - and sometimes, he denies it to himself out of shame, that he intentionally recruited you on his team because of his crescent infatuation with your young, beautiful and strong self. It's not that you're not highly competent and good at your job, definitely not. But that wasn't his only reason to pick you, and he'll bury this secret with him - that he once in his life chose to be unprofessional, because he wanted you. But btw that didn't stop him from being tough and demanding with you, especially on your first days. heh

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's definitely very experienced, in every pure aspect of it. It was a part of the reason you grew interested on him with no time - he was experienced like none of these young guys you had before. Knows every right places, mature, caring. Bit old fashioned. It was all you wanted; It'll get on your nerves sometimes although, because you're not the only one to think that he's the hottest shit alive. Many woman fancy him, some older than you - which will get you really concerned sometimes. He'll reaffirm you whenever it's necessary, he's yours, have never been anyone's like he's yours.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It generally depends on his mood, but again if he had to absolutey state a favorite one: on your side or behind. Stressing day at work, comes home to find you waiting for him in bed - he'll love fucking you on your side, heavy panting on your ear as his hand squeezes your perfect sized breast - his hips moving ever so slowly as his hand brushes the skin of your belly down to your folds, where he'll comfortably make room for his fingers against your clit in slow, circular movements. "God I fuckin' need you today, hun..." - he'll grunt in your ear in his raspy voice.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not in the moment particularly, not when fucking you - but on all other times, he'll find room to be goofy and make you laugh at his terrible jokes.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's hairy on all parts of his body, no thread. He's very clean and groomed, yes - he loves his beard and moustache, spends a hideous amount of money in lotions and perfume and combs it after every shower he takes, religiously. Wears a big beard for so long now he probably can't picture himself with a shaven face anymore.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Price is the perfect balance between rearranging your guts whenever you're a brat and he's got to teach you a lesson, and pulling multiple orgasms out of you by fucking you slow and passionately when he's affectionate. He'll have you on his lap, his arms wrapped around you, his hand supporting your back while he spares no efforts in trailing kisses from your breast to your neck, smelling your hair and letting out a low mewl to how amazing you feel. He'll be lazy, slow, move your hips ever so slow making you roll against him like you're dancing on his lap. "Mmm-" he'll moan, before taking your mouth in a passionate sloppy kiss again.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't need much of it anymore, so only in cases of much need - in mission and can't concentrate in anything else but work, some of you had to travel for any type of reason, he's really horny and you're sick - he'll do it. But as for before having you, he'd be embarassed to admit how many times he had masturbated to you in the shower.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Brat tamer, and it doesn't surprise anyone. He doms almost everytime. He absolutely loves it when you put up an attitude - not acting childish, no, when you stand up and defy him. He'll be the boss. He'll be proud of himself for marking you everywhere he possibly can, for owning you.

A bit of exhibitionism. He loves fucking you raw against his office desk or honestly anywhere else it's plausible in the headquarters; he loves it that he has to cover your mouth or else you'd be a loud moaning mess. It was hard restraining himself when someone knocked on the other side of the door, all curtains down and the slight sound of your mouth gagging on his cock. When you mentioned to stop, he forced your head hard till your nose met the hair in his groin, and oh only God knows how hard it was finding room for all that length in your throat.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

When I mean anywhere he can, I mean anywhere he can. He even would enjoy it if he had someone watching the two of you, but for the bare reason of: he's the one fucking you. He's making sure that this other person watching knows it, that you're his and only his. If anything, he wouldn't share, quite the opposite. But the idea that there's a dangerous possibility that someone catches the two of you arouse him; so, in his office, in the deposits, sometimes in the briefing room if it's late and empty.

Of course, that doesn't exclude the special place in his heart that his big, comfy bed has. He loves having you on his bed, cozy, warm, and very domestic.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you being the badass youngster you are turns him on; not exactly when at mission, because at those times he keeps himself strictly professional and very concentrated. But in the backstage, he loves it when you defy him and when you brat around - that'll give him further reasons to punish you later.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Wouldn't do anything if he gets the slight sense that you don't want to, nothing to hurt you (not for real) and wouldn't share. Perhaps, he'd love to have someone seeing it but sharing is a huge no. Watcher can't touch or get closer, only watch, while he makes you cum.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Can't possibly say he has a preference, he adores both equally. He'll love burying your face deep in his groin till you feel that little ache on the back of your throat, and keep you there till you're out of air; he'll also love burying himself between your thighs, especially when you wrap them tight against his face and squeeze it - he could die on the warmth of your thighs and cunt.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

As mentioned before, it highly depends on his mood. When taming, when fucking you rough, punishing - he'll go fast and rough enough to get you out air while trying to restrain your voice; "Hell- hm, d'you like it now, are you gonna keep the attitude- hn- now? Hm?" he'll moan, pressing your whole body against the wall, fucking you standing.

If passionate, he'll take his time with you in a slow pace, slow movements more like a dance of his hips against yours in syntony. He'll hum pretty words in your ear and promise you the world; "M' gonna fuckin' marry you, hun... have this pretty little cunt everyday."

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Although he likes to have freedom and time to fuck you straight and get at least two delicious orgasms out of you, he's a very busy man and you're too a very busy woman, and quickies are simply very convenient for the both of you. I'd say quite often, giving the circumstances - which doesn't mean that he doesn't, at least twice a week, spares time to fuck you the way he likes.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's a bit old fashioned, but he's willing to experiment if it's nothing too eccentric. If you ask nicely, he'll try; if you're not familiar with it he'll also love teaching you a bit more of bdsm, since he's bit of an adept.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Lots of stamina. Wouldn't go all night long because he simply doesn't have to, he's very experienced, good at what he does and he knows it. He knows what buttons to press to make you feel good; he lasts two good delicious long rounds, and that's enough to get you to heaven.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Again, a bit old fashioned; so I don't think he own many toys. He does own ropes he'll love to use on you, and as for the rest he'd rather use his own hands. He wouldn't refuse to use toys if asked though, probably wouldn't be too comfortable with using on himself, but would definitely use them on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, he loves restraining you, girl. Days without seeing him? You won't touch, won't relieve yourself in any other way. You'll wait, patiently, agonizingly, like the good girl you are, for him to arrive. He'll let you climbing up the walls, craving him. If he's in mission, he'll send you pictures, videos - that'll make you want to scream for not being able to touch yourself while watching. When he comes back, IF he thinks you deserve it, he'll fuck you; if not, he'll make you beg. If you disobey him, get yourself ready for when he arrives. That'll be a fun ride.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not exactly loud, but very vocal. He grunts, says dirty things against your ear in a low, raspy whisper - will get moans out of you for he loves seeing his little girl squirming under him. Will encourage you not holding your voice back, and if you're in a dangerous spot and could possibly be seen, he'd shush you with a deep thrust - or by occupying your mouth with his fingers instead.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has a picture of you in his wallet and finds it the most absolutely romantic and cute thing ever. And he's right it is

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's definitely big, but that's not the best part of it, not what really caught you off: he's thick. Swollen, a little thicker in the middle and thins towards the tip - just enough to stretch you out entirely anytime he goes inside you. Full of blood pumping veins and surrounded by a fair amount of hair, arghhh I want it

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He though he was going back to his teenager years in those first months after meeting you. Hell, he'd be craving for you for the least things - he definitely felt young again. It's high, he's not compulsive but the bare sight of your body makes him think of the nastiest things - and that's been even before the two of you actually started that fling, that later one became the relationship you have now.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

This is a very tired man we're talking about. After making sure you're okay, all good, clean, warm, cozy, not thirsty and feeling loved, he'll collapse on your bare breasts hugging you for dear life - don't you dream of waking up before him because you won't get to push him out of yourself, like - no way.

[chuplayswithfire]

thinking about ways i would change the pacing of events in season two to give them more room for breathing, while keeping to the same number of episodes that were available, this is probably what i'd have done:

Episode 1: Impossible Birds: add back in the missing cutscene with izzy and ed featuring ed throwing a knife past izzy, with tally marks - use that scene to explain that these tallies represent the number of raids they've gone on since the end of season 1. izzy is complaining about ed's blackbeard routine, ed snipes that he thought izzy wanted them to be pirates, well this is what pirates do. he's taking that record, putting blackbeard back on the map, isn't that what you wanted, iz? izzy acknowledges to himself that this is not what he wanted.

Episode 4: Fun and Games: right off the bat, i think they could have, instead of the crew voting Ed into a banishment that lasts a single day and which the crew are therefore pretty easily swayed on, they put him on probation in ep 4, with black pete suggesting the bell and frenchie and wee john the outfit, and stede pointing out that ed's very injured so it's not like they couldn't overpower him if something goes wrong. ed's annoyed about the whole thing and still half dead and fucked up from the gravy basket, and after hearing the terms, the crew says he has 12 hours to think about it before they're leaving this area. he takes off for shore, grumbling about it, meets the rabbit and then mary. meanwhile, stede and buttons follow to convince him otherwise and so buttons can explain the gravy basket. they still encounter anne and mary, they still do that whole thing, buttons changing is what convinces ed to do the probation, we end the episode with ed wearing the probation outfit and begrudgingly thumbing the bell. expand the scene where the crew are working on izzy's leg, just to have them talking in general a bit - oluwande is talking to jim about zheng, saying he misses her a bit.

Episode 5: Curse of the Seafaring Life: at the start of ep 5, we imply that it's been a few days to a week maybe, and ed is still on probation. he gives his corporate apology as part of his on-going efforts to show penitence and make up for what he's done, and we get a sense that he's been doing grunt work around the ship - repairing sails, fixing things that were damaged and broken - throughout. the crew's responses to the apology are pretty much the same as in the show, with some "it has been nice to have someone else doing all that shit though, right" about how he's been working. their acceptance of the apology is now equal parts because of the work he's done as well as a joke about corporate apologies working. Ed still feels frustrated about being on probation and stede has had more time to say he hasn't really felt like a captain, so he and stede have their captain voice exchange pretty much verbatim from the show. ed and lucius have been more or less avoiding each other all week, adding more nuance to ed living rent-free in lucius' mind, and ed offering to let lucius push him overboard. ed fishing with fang is part of him finally getting to meaningfully connect with another crew member again since the probation started, and is overall less about sitting with himself and more about him sitting in the moment, not just rushing to plan the next move, fishing is a great activity for having to be here, in this moment. the end credits stinger is the scene with zheng, ricky, and auntie.

Episode 6: Calypso's Birthday: finally, now on ep 6, probation has ended, we indicate that it's been a few weeks, someone mentions off-handedly that lucius and pete have been having a lot of all day marathon sex ever since they became engaged. when they head off to get party supplies, someone mentions maybe they should fetch them, and they all decide to leave the lovebirds to it. because of the added scene to episode 1, we've heard of ned low, and realize aw shit ed planted a seed of trouble back when he decided to go after that record. no other changes. meanwhile in town, olu sees signs of zheng's presence and that she's been here and laments a little about missing her, and wondering if maybe that's a good thing, if she's still pissed at him for what happened.

Episode 7: proceeds as happened in the show, that little bit strengthened by the passage of time, and also olu having actually been talking about zheng.

[shalotttower]

Title: Beneath The Skin Fandom: Far Cry 5 Characters: John Seed x Reader (female) Summary: John discovers a soulmate in one of his faithful after her indoctrination. Word count: 1200+ Notes: soft yandere!John Seed, religious themes, soulmate AU, captivity, obsession, past rough treatment, past torture, brainwashed Reader, John being John, Reader isn't Deputy, I'm depressed so now you'll be too.

You've been staring at him a lot lately. John can't tell if it's a good sign or not. In his experience, silence is usually followed by screaming and begging, not contemplation, but you're quiet and watchful, like a church mouse.

"Tell me what you desire," he says, cupping your face with his palms.

There's no pleading with you. No crying for help from the outside world. He's not used to this quiet acceptance of circumstances.

What John used to is peeling away the layers of flesh, until there's nothing but raw essence underneath. You're still not free of sin. He can see it, plain as day: sloth shines through the cracks of you. He could force it out. Carve the letters into your skin again, one by one, and maybe then you'd finally scream for mercy.

But he doesn't. Joseph told him to be careful with God's gifts, to be patient and endure. So he waits, and so you stare, and the silence stretches in-between.

"Why don't you tell me?" John asks.

He heard long time ago that through desires one's true self becomes visible. He wants to see yours.

"There's nothing to wish for in Eden's Gate, Herald."

There is no venom in your words. There's nothing in your words.

He thinks about patience and endurance, and wonders if the river washed away something essential off you during the baptism, or this docile and meek nature is just who you are.

You'd pass easily as one of Faith's angels, even without the Bliss.

---

John knows that you like to read. You take books from his personal library and he finds them later, stacked in a neat pile on a bedside table. Some nights when he returns to the ranch, you're still awake at the desk with a pair of glasses on the bridge of your nose.

"So that's why," he thought after leafing through your medical file, "you didn't recognize me at the river. They must've fell off during the transportation."

John wears his mark with pride. Not hidden, like Joseph's or Jacob's, but on display. A declaration that he's been chosen by God, that's he's not broken, not ruined — worthy to have a soulmate.

He remembers your expression back then. Confusion. You looked at him, squinting, like you didn't understand, couldn't fathom why would someone do this to you.

And then he dunked you under.

---

"Confession," John murmured. "It sets you free."

"Atonement," he told you later and took a knife to your flesh.

He wanted to make you feel small, insignificant — Deputy kept causing trouble, and temperance never was among his virtues.

"There's nothing more pure than a blank sheet, darling. I'll help you get rid of sin. Don't be afraid, let the pain cleanse you."

And you screamed.

Sloth. Pride. He carved them both and you cried and prayed until your voice broke, but haven't asked him to stop, not once.

After that, you blended into the crowd well, a nobody amongst the sheep not meant to stand out.

---

He didn't know.

Hadn't seen it, caught up in the excitement of the moment.

---

This time when he comes back, you're curled on the bed with a book that doesn't belong to his library. The cover is pale yellow with floral decorations and birds on it, a bit worn. How it came into your hands, John has an idea. There's only one person who likes cheesy romance novels here.

Your foot sways in the air back and forth, gently, like a pendulum.

"Didn't take you for a fan of light reading, my dear. How many maidens have fallen for dashing rascals tonight?"

"Herald John," you greet.

His stomach flips when you look up.

To think that you were one of many who cooked and cleaned around the compound all this time, who lived in the barracks and tended the apple orchards, and no one ever noticed. Who almost slipped through his fingers into the Henbane River, if he wasn't reminded of restraint.

Now you're here, in his room, and John has no idea what to do with you. He's good with words, they always come out naturally, like a weapon in a carefully crafted arsenal, but all seem inadequate when your mark is out there so openly unapologetic.

You're like a doll he's got a hold of: speaks when spoken to and moves when nudged.

He sits on the edge of the bed.

"This doesn't look like approved reading material," John comments idly, but makes no move to take the book away. Books like these aren't banned, simply considered too shallow to nourish a mind. He flipped through one himself and found it hilariously cliche.

"Sister Faith keeps bringing them," you respond. "I...keep them until she picks them up again."

You call his family members by titles rather than names. John suspects it stems from the trials and humility which they bring. Joseph is Father, Faith is Sister, Jacob is...nothing. You don't dare use any monikers with Jacob even though no one would mind now when you're family.

His thumb runs over your ankle. A small white lilly under the fabric of your leggings looks delicate and a bit like a mockery.

God's gifts are bestowed to cherish.

John thinks about the way you trembled during the baptism — sweet, sweet terror.

God's gifts are bestowed to nurture.

"Why didn't you plead with me?"

You pause.

"For what, Herald?"

John wants to shake you. Wants you to scream and glare like Deputy did when he carved the sin upon her body. Little wrathling, full of rage and spite; now Jacob is grooming her as a weapon, and it seems to suit her better than wreaking havoc across the county. Jacob's methods are meticulous and inevitable, brutal but most efficient, and he'll get her where he needs her to be: strong and able, with her fire burning for a better cause.

"Reprieve," John says. "Mercy."

He leans closer and waits, but your eyes travel down to your lap, then to your fingers, entwined together above the pages.

"There was no use."

Your smile is soft and empty, and John gets the feeling of missing a step on a flight of stairs.

"It wouldn't have been enough."

You speak it like a truth carved on stone, something so very evident that even a newborn infant can comprehend. Like the sun is warm, the water is wet, and Herald John Seed doesn't give mercy to sinners — he takes them apart piece by piece so they can start anew without the burden of guilt.

---

Aren't soulmates meant to know each other intimately? Aren't they meant to complete?

Yet there's an absence of him in you and you in him. It's a hollow space between your bodies when you both lie side by side at night, a gaping wound, and it won't go away, no matter how close you curl into his arms or how tight he holds onto you.

He touches you often: strokes your hair while you read books by lamplight, kisses your forehead when you pray before bedtime.

"Tell me what you desire," John asks again.

And again, patiently you reply: "Eden's Gate offers everything I could ever wish for."

---

He wonders what fairy tale romance you will find next week between the pages, and if there will be mercy in it which you didn't find in that bunker.

[lulu2992]

“You can’t go back, you hear me?!”

In “that fic I’ll never write”, this takes place after the mission “The Bliss”.

As always, more details below :)

Like in the game, Taylor was found by the Cougars sometime after her second encounter with Faith, and she ends up spending the night at the Hope County Jail. However, when she wakes up in the morning, she realizes she’s been gone for nearly three days, so she rushes back to her bunker in which John is still “trapped”.

When she arrives at what used to be the McClean Residence, now her (temporary) home, she notices the hatch is still locked from the outside, but when she opens it and carefully goes down the stairs, the bunker seems empty. Did John leave, somehow? No, it’s impossible. Did someone else come and find him, then? Well, there are no signs of a break-in or a struggle, so probably not…

Taylor, only now realizing she’s unarmed and feeling even more anxious, hesitantly calls John’s name. He appears, peeking from behind a wall, a baseball bat in his hands.

“Oh thank God, it’s you,” he says, breathing a sigh of relief and dropping his weapon.

Coming up to the Deputy, he asks her what happened. She, having not yet fully recovered from everything she’s just been through, confusedly summarizes what she’s done since the last morning he saw her, about three days ago, when she told him she would probably be back “in a few hours”. Faith, the Bliss, the Sheriff, Joseph, the visions, the Marshal… She speaks rapidly and barely takes time to catch her breath.

Then, since Burke hasn’t been rescued yet and other people still need her help, she realizes and tells him she should go back. But, as she turns around to leave, he grabs her arm.

“No!”

And when John Seed, who swears by “The Power of Yes”, exclaims “no” with such conviction, it makes you want to stop and listen to what he has to say.

“You can’t go back, you hear me?!”

He explains, almost frantically, that she can’t win against Faith, against the Bliss, and that if she tries anyway, things will likely not end well for her, tells her she looks exhausted, dazed, and insists she needs to rest. He simply can’t let her keep throwing herself into danger and risking losing her life or her sanity anymore. She spared him, and if she let the Project know instead of pointlessly continuing to fight them, he believes all problems could be solved.

She listens, and she knows he might be right, but the idea of publicly admitting that the Baptist, in fact, not only is alive, but has also been living with her since his “death” (as her hostage, but still) frightens her. The situation seems inextricable; she’s been keeping this secret for so long...

Too long, according to John, who had already warned her this would happen and can now see, without feeling the satisfaction he thought, at the time, he would derive from the unfortunate situation the Deputy’s fear to speak to her friends has put her in, that guilt is effectively eating her up. It has taken a considerable toll on her health, both mental and physical, and this has to stop. He wants this to stop.

She knows she needs to finally gather the courage to tell the truth, but she’s so scared of disappointing and losing everyone if she does. According to him, though, confessing what weighs on your soul is always a good thing, and he believes that, once he’s officially “back to life”, he’ll be able to help her and her cause, especially in the eyes of the Family.

He also promises that, even if Taylor loses everyone else, she won’t lose him. She saved him, and it’s time for John to return the favor.