#John doesn't believe in a future

[mayasaura]

I just want to talk about the nursery being painted and the purpose of the Tomb to be without a door. Anastasia had a family - and putting to the side the pact with Alecto there's some implicit symbolism to John asking for the workers of the Ninth to die constructing the Tomb with that image of new life. (Still can't articulate my disbelief that he went and didn't think that asking Anastasia of all people, The one who lost her cavalier to him, would have problems)

Yeah. Especially finding this out about the Ninth, where nurseries becoming tombs is a thing we're sensitive about.

On one level we've always known Anastasia had a family. Like, we know she's Harrow's direct ancestor. You can't be heir to the line of someone who never had children. But the nursery.... Yeah. It really hammers it in. Her friends painted a nursery mint green for her children.

And now it's a tomb.

[adammilligan]

when adam says "no, john winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year. i don't have a dad" like yes SIR get his ass

[ghouljams]

A Letter from Your Future Husband (MDNI)

tags: Regency au, Soap x f!reader/OC, masochism, spanking, sexting through letters, dirty talk, guided masturbation, Soap has that dog in him, masturbation, "little" as a diminutive not a descriptor

Summary: Soap has write you letters that you hope never see the light outside of your bedroom. You can only be glad for the assurance that the man ruining you is so set on marrying you as well.

You never open letters around other people. Not since the first one. John Mactavish is seemingly unwilling or unable to be proper around you. His letters are filled with language that makes your head spin, your skin heat, and wetness drip between your legs. You don't know what he's hoping to accomplish with them, he's certainly not wooing you. Maybe he's hoping to speed your ruination, hoping that someone in your house will crack open his wax blue seal and be so scandalized by his words that...

Well they wouldn't break off the engagement you think. Your parents are too eager to be rid of you. Throw you to him sooner, might be the goal. You're not quite as eager to have that happen as Johnny's letters might lead people to believe. He promises a lot in his letters. Promises things you've never heard from other men. Things that make your stomach clench nervously, and it has to be nerves. If it isn't then you really are bound for ruin.

You slip his letter off the entry table and make your way to your room. Your heart pounds in your chest at the seal, the polite ribbon wrapped around the paper. It's pretty, it's always pretty. Pretty in a way that makes the filth inside feel so much worse.

"You haven't written me back hen," You can hear the chastising tuts of Johnny's tongue even through the paper, as you settle on your bed, "S'alright, know your hands are otherwise occupied.

'You are touchin' yourself to my letters, aren't you? God, I hope you are. Stuffing that pretty little pussy with your fingers isn't enough, is it bonnie? You can't hit all those nice spots, can't fill yourself full enough. I know you're droolin' against your pillows thinkin' about my cock. Bet you look so sweet touchin' yourself. You'll have to show me how you do it next time, tell me what you like so I can take over. Shouldn't be touchin' what isn't yours."

You shiver, glad the door is shut as you go to lay against your pillows. Johnny's voice fills your mind, and you're careful not to wrinkle your skirt as you pull it up. Touching what isn't yours... As if any part of you belongs to him, least of which your... Well you're not as crass as he is. That fact doesn't stop you from dragging your fingers over your slit. You hadn't done this before his letters, but one of Johnny's letters had been so explicit in its instructions, you'd had to at least see what the fuss was about. You circle your fingers over your clit, the same way he'd told you to.

"I'll make an exception while I'm away, but I want you to apologize when I'm back. Put yourself on your knees in front of me and say you're sorry for touchin' yourself. Fuck, just the thought of you has me strokin' my cock I'd be nice with punishing you if you apologized. When's the last time you were spanked? I'd put you over my knee, don't even have to ask me to do it. You would though. Bet you would. Could spank your pussy instead if you don't want to beg. Give it a try hen, nice and hard for me, tell me if you like it."

You should feel worse about your lack of hesitation, should feel dirtier knowing he doesn't even have to be here to make you obey. The sharp sting when you slap your cunt makes your hips twitch, makes heat pool in your stomach. You do it again just to feel the way your body squirms. The wet sound of it is tempting, the lingering buzz of pain making your fingers hover hesitantly. You shouldn't like this, but you so desperately do. You wonder what it would feel like to have Johnny do it, his thick fingers rubbing over you, soothing out the pain before pulling back to spank you again.

He'd probably hit you harder than this. The thought makes you drip.

"I said hard, hen."

You have to bite down the noise you make. Twisting against the pillows to breathe as you rub your fingers against your clit, trying to sooth the sting from your last, hard, hit. Fuck it's good, it's good and you hate this man for making it good. You hate that you know exactly what his next words will be, as if he knows you're putty in his hands.

"Good girl. Know that was hard for you, but you did so well for me. Know you squirm, gonna haf'ta hold you down when I do it. You'd like that though, love havin' me pin you and spank you 'til you're comin' on my fingers. Dirty little thing. You want me to clean you up with my tongue after? You think you deserve that?"

You slip your fingers down to circle your entrance, you don't have the patience that Johnny seems to and press two fingers into yourself. You grind your hips down against them, and he's right, they aren't enough. You're not filled the way you want to be, not stretched enough to feel it when you clench on your fingers. They feel good though, the drag of them in and out, pushing tight heat in the pit of your stomach with each stroke.

You wish he could hear you, wish it meant something when you whimper out a soft, "yes." You imagine his tongue licking over your slit, flicking against your clit. He'd tease you, you know he would. Circle your clit without touching it, licking broad swipes over your cunt. His fingers would just press against your entrance, thicker than the ones you desperately pump in and out of yourself. You drop his letter to rub your clit, he's right(he often is) your hands are often too occupied to think about writing him back. It's his fault though.

His fault for making you think of his head between your legs, making you imagine the scratch of his beard on your thighs as your stomach grows hotter and tighter. Your cunt is drooling around your fingers, the circles you draw over your clit sparking pleasure up your spine and making you whine for more. Everything pulls tight too quickly, your cunt clenching desperately on your fingers as it tries to suck them deeper. It's enough to get you over the edge, but not enough to be satisfying.

You pinch your clit, and the pain pushes makes everything break. Your legs shaking as your hips buck against your fingers, desperate, and almost perfect. You work yourself through the high and pull your hands away when it all becomes too much, too sensitive. If Johnny were here...

You fish around for his letter with wet fingers --you're sure he'd do the same-- and scan your eyes over the page, almost too eager to see how badly he wants you.

"My poor pussy, I know I'm mean to 'er. I'll clean you up love, lick you 'til you're sobbin' for me, beggin' to be fucked proper. You're so pretty when you're cryin'. My poor little wife, I'll make sure you get fucked as often as you like; keep you full of my cock, plugged up so all the come I pour into you stays in place. I'm wastin' so much of it just thinkin' about you, but I'll make up for it. You just give me the word.

Write me something nice, hen. Tell me how badly you want my cock, tell me how you touch yourself, tell me you'd sit under my desk and warm my cock in your throat while I work. Tell me you love me and I'll be on your step tomorrow. As stands I'll be there within a week. Miss me.

Johnny"

You truly must be ruined to smile at that. 'Tell me you love me' he says, without telling you the same. Rude man. You hate him(you love him, God, you love him).

[bunnyreaper]

𝓷𝓸𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸 𝒶 𝒿𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝓅𝓉 2 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒

wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw (eventually), cheating (not from reader or john), older male younger female, future daddy kink) notes - dropping chapter one just because i need to get it out of my head ! a lot of setup really, but i swear we will get somewhere soon!! also on ao3! ♥

The rain had been threatening to come for days now—thick grey clouds lurking in the sky like a promise, but so far no drops had seemed to fall. 

It's easy to get lost looking out the window, as the gunmetal sky gains an amber hue. The dinner you'd cooked had long gone cold—your boyfriend staying late at work again instead of coming home. It's easier now that it's almost a habit, to take your mind off things by staring at the sky, the record player crooning in the background. 

You suppose if you took him out of the picture, life wasn't all that bad. The house the two of you shared was nice and homey, your job was mundane and untaxing and exactly what you desired, and your friends were solid. 

James was the only sticking point, with his eyes that were never quite blue and his heart that was never quite yours. You suppose you knew deep down, without ever really knowing. 

The creak in the floorboards and the sound of a voice pulls you from your thoughts, bringing you back into the room.

"Knock knock." A sonorous voice rings out as a head pops around the door of the living room, before John Price—your boyfriend's father, makes his way inside.  

You force yourself to be present, offering an unbridled, warm smile at your guest as you playfully greet him. "Captain." 

"Darling girl." He replies, your smile mirrored on his face. He sets down a box of beers on the table and starts to take off his jacket. "Tried texting you to let you know I was headed over, saw the light on, and the door was unlocked." He explains, as if he hadn't made his own way inside before. 

It never bothered you, your place feeling more like home to John than his own little house on the other side of town. 

You rise to your feet, heading through to the kitchen on instinct—he brought beers, which means you'll grab the bottle opener for him before he even needs to ask. "Sorry, John, I kind of zoned out for a good while there." 

His footsteps are heavy as he follows you through, with an easy swagger to his steps as he brings through the beers to put in the fridge. "You should lock it even when you're in." Authority laces his tone, as he directs his paternal instincts at you.

"Yeah, I know." You laugh, nodding along, as you're so used to the way John can't help but look out for you at every opportunity. You move on autopilot, taking the box from him and setting the beers in the fridge before taking one, uncapping it, and handing it back to him.

His gaze follows your every movement, observing you as his thoughts tick over with every passing second. "Everything okay?" He asks, seeing right through you, as he always seems capable of. The concern that's clear in his voice almost makes you flinch—you get so unused to being cared for when he's not around.

You force a tight-lipped smile onto your face as you force yourself to whisper some excuse, even if it isn't too far from the truth. "Tired, it's been a long week." 

John's brows furrow momentarily, and the slightest frown plays at his lips, which you know from experience means he doesn't believe you, but he won't push it for now.

He wraps his hand around the neck of the beer, taking a deep gulp before wiping his beard with the back of his hand. "Where's James? The two of you should be cuddled up on the couch, unwinding." 

"Still at work." You shrug, turning away from John to try and find something to busy yourself with—currently, wiping down the counters and loading the dishwasher. 

"Guess I'll keep you company then." John chuckles, his voice soft. Despite only being here for mere moments, his quiet presence is already starting to lift your mood. 

You turn to him, naturally falling into a more playful spirit as you lean over the kitchen island, pausing for a moment. "Hopefully my company won't be too much of a disappointment then." 

"I don't think that's possible, love." He answers without missing a beat, his eyes serious even if the smirk on his face isn't.

John always knows how to make you feel better—you couldn't have asked for a better support system when it comes to your life with James. His mother is lovely, endlessly self-sacrificing, and sweet, but now more focused on her growing children than her adult son—especially since James never seems to appreciate her as much as he should.

She raised James without John by choice—rightly or wrongly deciding not to tell anyone who the father of her teen pregnancy was. John was leaving for the army and wanted a different life for himself than the one she and a baby could offer, so she kept the burden to herself and let him go. That's how she told it, that's how it seemed to be when James showed up at John's door over two decades later and confirmed his father had no idea he existed. 

The two have been making awkward attempts to make up for lost time in the years since, with you and your unfolding relationship witness to the whole thing. James had gained another father, you had gained... a friend?

"You say that now." You wink, knowing full well that you've found ways to exhaust and annoy John Price before. 

He takes another sip of his beer, longer and slower this time, as if savouring the taste. "Getting as much of you as I can before I ship out on Monday." He admits. 

Your heart sinks just a little. Even though it's been years of John disappearing to god knows where, it never seems to stop causing you to worry. How would James deal with it if he never came back? How would you? 

Like so many other things in your life with John, you've become practiced in the way you are around each other. Despite having a million questions, you know he can answer none of them, so each time he gets dragged off to someplace unknown, you find a silly way to get something out of him. 

Last time, you asked if the nation's flag had a star in it, and it did. You could almost imagine him in a different country every day that he was away, until he came back to you both. 

Today, you fell back on an old favorite. "Flip-flops or snowsuit?" You ask with a giggle. 

"Ha, flip-flops." He answers quickly, confirming that wherever he's headed, it's hot weather, he drinks some more as if to silence the rest of the words on the tip of his tongue. 

You know by now that John prefers the cold.

"Hopefully I'll be able to catch the kid before I go." He adds, referencing James—he always tries his best to say goodbye to you both before he goes, now he has a reason to come home. 

You grit your teeth at the mention of your boyfriend, knowing you won't see much of him this weekend either.  "Sunday is your best bet, he'll be hungover after the stag do he's going to tomorrow." The one he only told you about two days ago.

"Those were the days, eh." John smirks, tilting his head as if to recall a memory. As an army man, you can only imagine the shit he's gotten into with his squads, the places around the world he's gotten drunk out of his mind and done god knows what. He has so many years on James, so many stories you'd love to hear.

"Too busy playing lawn bowls with your comrades now?" You can't help but tease him as you always do, the two of you falling into your back and forth with a familiar ease. 

He tuts, sending you a playful glare that forces you to ignore the way it makes you feel. "Less your lip, young lady." 

You have to ignore the way that makes you feel too— fuck, you're lonely, and you need James to just fuck you already. 

"Absolutely, old man." You snap back, never able to resist the urge to tease him for his age. He's only in his early 40s, hardly an old man at all, but you still love to wind him up about it.

"You're the one listening to Otis Redding." He huffs, raising a brow as if to suggest you don't have any room to mock him with your own habits. 

You suppose you do listen to golden oldies, knit for fun, and prefer nights in rather than nights out.

"You're the one who bought it for me." You counter, as John had bought the vinyl for you, along with many others. If anything, he was transforming your music taste into his, one album at a time. 

"That I did." He chuckles, before finishing his beer with one final swig. You're setting a fresh one down in front of him before he can even ask. "You won't drink with me?" 

Perhaps he feels left out drinking alone.

You wrinkle your nose, catching a whiff of hops that makes your stomach churn. "Even you can't convince me to drink that swill, I'll grab something, though." You concede that at least, turning to reach the shelf up high to where you keep your liquor. 

John is offering his bottle up as soon as the clear liquid is poured into your glass. "Cheers, love." 

Your glasses clink as your eyes connect, a soft, sincere moment passing between the two of you that makes your heart beat a little faster. You were awfully fond of the older man. "To your safe return." 

"I'll drink to that." He toasts, before downing half of the beer in one go. "You still owe me the dinner that you promised me last time, I'm coming back to collect." 

"I actually have some I can reheat, it was for James, but since he's staying late..." You offer, your sentence trailing as you battle to keep your thoughts on the man in the room with you, rather than the one who isn't. 

"Can't let your lovely cooking go to waste now, can we?" He grins, deeply pleased to be getting one of your meals. 

You turn to the oven, pulling out the two plates that are still warm, food piled high on top of them. "Glad it's appreciated." 

John pauses, his eyes trying to meet yours, yet you continue to avert your gaze, focusing on grabbing cutlery for you both. You said too much. 

"You don't feel appreciated?" He asks, voice softer—concerned all over again. 

As you sit down beside him, setting the two plates down, you struggle to meet his eye as your feelings swirl and conflict inside you. If anyone offered the perfect understanding ear, it would be John, and under any other circumstance, you'd happily tell him all about what ails you. "I don't... think it's appropriate to talk to you about my relationship troubles." 

His posture stiffens, his voice hardens, and his food is temporarily forgotten as his protective instincts kick in. "But there are troubles?" 

Now, you find the strength within you as you force a laugh from your throat and a spark into your eyes. "Oh no, I meant hypothetically." You joke, hoping he takes the bait. 

Instead, a hand reaches out to settle on yours, warm and firm and reassuring—ebbing away at your propriety. "Love, you're a terrible liar." He whispers, yet unable to keep the smallest of smiles from tugging at the corner of his lips. 

"Or you're just used to reading people for a living." You counter—after all, you tell James you're fine all the time, and he's never suspected any different.

"That too." John laughs, as he pats your hand and begins to rub circles over the back of your smaller hand with his calloused thumb. "You have to talk to someone." 

There's that commanding, authoritative, caring voice again—the one that makes you relent every time he uses it on you. 

"I will, just... not my boyfriend's dad." You whisper meekly, guilt stabbing through you as the words leave you. 

He nods understandingly, patting one more before he pulls his hand away, and goes to twirl pasta around his fork. "Why? I might be his father but a blind man could see the way he takes you for granted." 

Hearing the words out loud, verbalised by someone else—verbalised by John of all people, feels like a stab wound to the chest. You'd felt it for so long, assured yourself that you were just going crazy, ignoring the way James cares for you, assuring yourself that nothing was amiss. But John sees it too, sees it in his own son.

"Well, I don't think men who wouldn't take me for granted actually exist." You laugh bitterly, stabbing at your own plate of food before swallowing a bite—you're sure it would've tasted nicer when it was actually fresh. 

John's jaw clenches, a hint of frustration passing through him as he watches you, hurting and hiding it all away. "Then you're dating the wrong men, darling. We exist."

You take a deep breath as you try to let go of the ugly feelings within you. Men like John do exist, good men, caring men. 

"And yet you deprive women of your company, how cruel." Your eyes roll back sarcastically as the grin breaks out onto your face. 

Any woman would be lucky to have John, but for as long as you've known him, he's kept himself to himself. Now he preaches his own virtues like you have something to look forward to, and yet men like him always seem to be out of reach. 

"I'm a busy man." He shrugs, taking a bite of his food before rushing down another as gentlemanly as he can. 

"And yet here you are." 

He nudges you with his knee, flashing you a smile. "Spending time with my favourite girl." 

It takes everything within you to remain calm and remind yourself that he doesn't see you like that. You're just his son's girlfriend, that he happens to get along with, very well.

You giggle anyway, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of his statement. "Ah, waiting for the main event."

John sets his fork down with a clatter, his attention now fully on you. "Love?" 

"Yeah?" You swallow, wondering just how he's going to chastise you for your self-deprecation. If you had a pound for every time he's told you to be kinder to yourself, or gently corrected you when you make jokes at your own expense, you could probably afford to pay for the therapy you clearly desperately need. 

"I didn't just come to see James." He admits, the words a quiet confession.

He's right—the two of you have become fast friends ever since your introduction, and find nothing uncomfortable in each other's company as you wait for James to come around. 

You nudge his knee back, making your chair spin more than his. "You came for Otis and some lovely pasta." 

"And good company, couldn't ask for a better way to spend my evening." 

Your stomach flips at his words. You know he isn't flirting, but you'd be lying if you said his constant compliments didn't make you feel better than you had in ages. 

Maybe you should tell him about things with you and James, maybe he would have some good insight. After all, he must have a wealth of relationship experience under his belt.

"John..." You start hesitantly. 

"Bunny?" He asks, the intensity of his blue eyes firmly fixed on you—the nickname he reserved when he was feeling especially fond. 

The front door all but crashes open, and a frustrated growl rings out from the hallway as keys are thrown down and shoes are kicked at the shoe rack. "Fuck, I need a drink." 

James appears in the kitchen just a few seconds later, practically ripping his hair out the roots as he snarls to himself. His expression softens when he lays eyes on you and his father. 

"Hi." You greet him, feeling rather apathetic at his late appearance. 

"Hey babe. John." He nods, giving his father a manly slap to the back before he gets to work on tugging his tie.

"Alright son." John greets, lips quirking into a smile at his son's appearance. 

James steps forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, which you receive with a forced smile and no affection of your own. Both of you are blind to the frown that flashes onto John's face. 

As James pulls away, he rips his tie from his neck, bundling it up before throwing it at the hamper and turning away.  "I'm heading straight for a shower, I'll be back down soon." He calls out, disappearing up the stairs two at a time. 

"Yeah, see you soon." John offers, a hint of frustration to his voice—he's never been all that fond of his son's manners, as he's mentioned on numerous occasions. 

The mood feels a little stifled now, as both you and John eat your meal with an uneasy silence hanging over you. You hear doors slam upstairs as James makes his way around the house, likely leaving a mess behind that you'll have to clean.

You knew why you felt worse at this moment, your opportunity to talk to someone snatched from you by his untimely appearance. He's always late home, couldn't he have been a little later? 

What puzzled you was John's shift in demeanour—it didn't sit right with you. Perhaps he felt ignored by his only son, the one he'd been waiting for this entire time. It's funny, you supposed, the way you both find solace in each other over the similar treatment you get from the younger man. 

"Everything okay? You've gone quiet." You ask John, it being your turn now to play the concerned friend.

You know him well enough too to know his smile right now is forced—you don't need to be a trained SAS operator to notice the way his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Fine, love, just thinking." 

John was a man who could probably stand to think a little less, especially when he's at home. It's one responsibility you found yourself picking up all this time, as you tried to make his days away from war lighter.

You nudge him again, practically trying to force the playfulness into him with the push of your knee. "Well, we can't have that, can we? I hear it's dangerous." 

He barks a laugh, pulled out of his glum mood, and back into the room with you. "You never fail to make me laugh, darling." 

"Might be my proudest accomplishment." You giggle, feeling oh so pleased with yourself. "What would your soldiers think if they knew the fearsome Captain Price had such an atrociously bad sense of humour?" 

He rolls his eyes, but that bright smile that splits his handsome face doesn't waver. "Eh, not sure if it's atrocious, most of the lads' jokes make me groan." 

You roll your eyes at that comment. "Most things make you groan." 

"You don't." 

"Not for lack of trying." 

There's a solid second of silence before you realise the heavy yet accidental innuendo in your comment. You feel your face burst into flames, mortification taking over you as you meet John's shocked expression. "I mean—" 

"I know what you meant, love." His laugh warms you as he seems to take the whole thing in stride. "That blush is quite something, though." 

You throw yourself into your curled-up arms, hiding away as you're unable to look John in the eye any longer. He's your boyfriend's dad, almost twice your age, and you're making jokes about him groaning. It's a tough battle to force the thoughts out of your head lest you blush any harder. "I'm gonna go stick my head in the oven." 

"And ruin your pretty face?" 

"You're making it worse." You whine, pushing yourself further into the safe cocoon of your arms.

"I'll stop." John laughs, hand coming to settle on your back as he soothes you. "But it's nice to have cheered you up." 

"I suppose..." You sigh, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. Your blush abates as the two of you continue to eat until your plates are clean. 

 "All done?" You ask, gesturing to where John is setting down his cutlery atop the plate. 

"It was perfect. Thanks, love." He says sincerely, a hand resting on his stomach as if to add to the sincerity of the gesture. 

"Anytime." You smile, taking the plates and heading over to the dishwasher. "If I'd have known you were coming, I'd have gotten dessert."

John knows you wish you would've had more notice—even if he's had to tell you many times that you don't need to clean the house and cook a three-course meal every time he happens to pop over. "Only got the marching orders this afternoon." He shrugs as if to absolve himself of any responsibility. 

"Do you know how long you'll be gone?" You ask, voice quieter as you return to his side. 

"A month, probably not too much longer." 

A month was fairly typical. "Well, make sure you come home to us." 

Come home to me, you think selfishly. 

"Always, darlin'." His eyes burn with a promise, and a sense of joy at hearing those words. "Someone's gotta keep that old soul of yours company." He winks. 

"So, I'll get initiated into the bowls team soon?" You wink back. 

John finishes off his beer before laughing once more, the sound filling you with warmth. "Maybe you can be my pool partner." 

"I can't play pool for shit, John." You whine, remembering the last time you tried to play pool and ended up injuring yourself, as well as sending balls flying all over the pub.

"Guess you're due a lesson then." 

Once more, you're interrupted at the most inopportune time. 

"Keeping the old man company for me?" James asks, meeting your gaze over his father's shoulder as he rubs a towel at his dripping hair. 

"Somebody has to." John teases, more poking fun at himself than at anyone else, and the two of you share a laugh. 

You begin to mourn the light moments you've had, as the atmosphere shifts once more at James' arrival, and you feel yourself growing tense and unsettled. You watch in silence as James looks around for the bottle opener, and you make no effort to help or tend to him.

It's John who breaks the awkward silence. "I won't stay too much longer, leave you two to enjoy your night." 

You stand, the stool scraping back loudly against the floor as you do, making your hair stand on end. "Uh, actually, I think I'm gonna sleep. You should enjoy some father-son time." The smile on your face is polite and perfunctory. 

"Goodnight love." John smiles, soft and genuine, as he watches you walk away. 

James speaks up too, but the words barely register. "Night babe." 

As you reach the threshold of the kitchen, you turn back once more—John's eyes are still on you.

"Stay safe, John." 

"Yes ma'am." He nods, holding your gaze until you disappear up the stairs. 

You try not to think of the look in his eyes when you fall asleep that night.

———— 

Time seems to go differently when John is deployed. Despite not being anything more than your boyfriend's father, you're still always filled with worry waiting to hear from him. Outside his military family, you and James were the ones waiting for him to come home with bated breath, and with John's disastrous love life, you found yourself the only woman waiting to welcome him back to civilian life. 

As you stare at your inbox, waiting for anything to come through, you find your thoughts drifting easily to other things in life—to John.

You're his friend, if you can even call yourself that—but you miss him when he's gone. Back on English soil, he's visiting you and James pretty frequently, coming over for dinner or helping around the house—since James is useless with a drill. 

Things are different when he's gone, though sometimes you feel like you're the only one who thinks that. 

Your boyfriend doesn't worry like you do, despite being closer to the man, though James has never been the most emotional of guys to begin with.

Despite work keeping you busy, and friends inviting you out for drinks, you often find yourself waiting for a text, or anything from John—just to know he is safe. 

Your phone chimes one Monday afternoon, interrupting your monotonous work day with something different. The timing makes your heart soar, as it must be from John letting you know he's back in Hereford—the notification you see instead is the end of everything as you know it. 

A message request from an anonymous account: "I'm sorry for you to find out like this, but I couldn't keep the secret any longer." 

Attached to the message is a series of pictures, and a video from a bar, of James entangled with another woman in a way that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. You recognised the tie, the one he'd worn for the first time only a month ago—the one he'd thrown in the laundry before rushing off to shower. 

The nausea overwhelms you in an instant, sending you rushing for the bin beside your desk as the content of your stomach leaves you in harsh retches. 

Everything that happens after is a blur, as your co-workers rush to your aid—your closest work friend seeing the messages on your phone as she pulls you to the bathroom, cleans you up, and makes sure you get home safe and sound. 

She doesn't want to leave you alone, but you know that company right now will only make the whole thing worse. You wander around the house in a haze, tending to your chores like nothing has changed, and your world hasn't been turned upside down. 

That deep, unsettled feeling you've been getting as of late? It all makes sense now—why you never truly felt at ease around the man who was supposed to love you. And yet, a part of you felt relieved. Relieved that you weren't crazy, relieved that you weren't to blame for the way things had changed lately, relieved that you finally had the chance to walk away. 

You haven't stopped thinking about the text all day—wondering how the fuck you're going to confront James and not rip his head clean off of his body, how you're going to end your years-long relationship and upend because your boyfriend couldn't keep his dick to himself. 

The clock on the wall ticks away, counting down the moments until he comes home from work, late as always. At least now you know why. 

Your phone chimed again a while ago, probably whatever excuse he had cooked up—you hadn't even bothered picking the damn thing up to check the notification.  

A knock at the door pulls you out of it all, as you move on autopilot to go answer.

Did he forget his keys? Or has he gotten himself drunk to the point he can't put them in the door anymore? 

On the other side of the door isn't James, isn't your cheating, good-for-nothing boyfriend but John. 

His beard untrimmed and eyes dull—the scent of cigars rolling off of him in waves. "Hello, darling girl." He says his usual, as a smile tugs at his cheeks. 

"Hi." You offer in return, your voice almost completely motionless. Time seems to slow as you stare at the man before you—usually, you'd greet him with a quick hug and a bright grin, so pleased to see him safe and on your doorstep. Yet, the day's events have stolen that joy from you. 

John picks up on your mood almost immediately, head tilting in concern as his eyes roam over you. "Bad time?" 

"No." You shake your head as you step aside. "Come in."

John scrapes his boots against the doormat before he takes them off, along with his jacket.

"Tea." You whisper, snapping into action as you turn and head to the kitchen. You almost always make tea when he comes over—you don't even have to ask anymore. 

"Thanks, love." His voice rings out after you. 

Focusing on making the tea helps calm you somewhat, and you pull out two mugs to make a cup for yourself too. 

How were you going to tell John? The news would ruin him. How are you going to tell John that you'll be leaving his son's life, and therefore his? 

Your heart falls deeper into a pit of misery at that thought alone—the loss overwhelming you. 

"James home?" 

"Still at work." You whisper, not trusting yourself to speak properly without the bitterness unfurling and the truth spilling out. 

John scoffs from behind you, but you know he isn't really all that bothered. "Oh, right. No heroes welcome from my lovely son then." His sarcastic words are graveled. 

"Saves you from all his silly questions, I suppose." You shrug, still not turning to look John in the eye. "Though you put up with mine, so." 

"Yours don't ask me to break the law." He huffs, short and sharp, before he perks up again. "Didn't actually get to bust out the flip-flops this time, though." He offers, a hint at your last conversation. The weather was milder than he expected then, you suppose he was rather pleased about that. 

You let the silence settle over the two of you as you continue to make your drinks, focusing on the way the unfurls from the bag and changes the hue of the boiling water. Next is the milk, semi-skimmed because James doesn't like full fat—at least that's something that'll change for the better once you leave. 

The thought makes you freeze. 

"Love, what's the matter?" John's smokey voice is soft and sweet and coming closer—laced with concern. 

Your chest tightens, impending doom feeling like it's right over your shoulder—everything is going to fall apart in 3. 2. 1.

The milk bottle falls free from your hands, crashing to the floor with a wet splash—the cold milk is easily ignored as a hand comes to rest at your back, pulling you away from the edge of the abyss of your pain.

"Talk to me, what's going on?" His voice is more insistent this time, but still just as concerned. He ignores the pool at both of your feet in favour of consoling you. His features are knitted together in a terrifying amount of worry that makes you crack completely. 

"John." You whisper shakily, finally meeting his eyes. 

His baby blues are filled to the brim with care for you, with concern and confusion and a million unanswered questions. "Yes, darling?" 

"He's cheating on me." 

There's a beat before John explodes. It's not the bombastic, showy anger where things get screamed—he's quiet and seething and eerie, his words spat through gritted teeth. "He's fucking what?" 

Your whole body begins to shake as the truth tumbles free, solidifying itself as reality now it's spoken aloud. "He's cheating on me with one of his coworkers, Lucy." 

Not that it mattered whether it was Lucy or Georgia or some girl from the club or whatever. 

John stiffens—his shoulders squaring up, his jaw clenching and his body tightening like he's going to war. You've never seen John Price the soldier, but you imagine it's something like this "When's he due home?" 

"I don't know." You answer honestly. You don't know, and you don't particularly care. At least you'll never have to wait for him to come home ever again.

"I'm gonna ring him—" John snarls, shoving his hand into the worn pocket of his jeans as he grabs his phone. 

"Don't." Your hand shoots out to still his wrist, though you know the effort would be futile if he truly chose to ignore him. "Please." 

"If only I'd have fucking raised him." John seethes before launching into action, he moves around you to grab the kitchen towel, ripping off piece after piece as it soaks up the spill. He throws the half-empty bottle into the sink, as milky white sprays up the backsplash. 

"It's okay." You whisper, genuinely feeling that in a sense, it is. You've been betrayed, but at least now you'll be free. 

"It's not okay." John moves to stand before you again, his arms braced on your shoulders as he looks down upon you, craning a little to get closer to your height. "Love, you're perfect, you're too lovely for him, how could he hurt you?" 

"How could anyone hurt something so precious?"

"Not precious enough, clearly." You scoff, wondering where it all went wrong. Right now you felt the furthest thing from precious, from loveable and perfect and everything else John said. Fuck, you feel like you're turning him against James. "Sorry, I feel like I shouldn't be talking to you about this—" 

"I'm on your side, yeah?" He interrupts you with good reason before your thoughts can spiral any further. His grip tightens a fraction as his thumbs move, slowly and reassuringly, across the bare skin of your shoulders. "He's my son, but he's a fucking bastard for this. You deserve better, love." 

The sweetness in his voice makes you snap. Why wouldn't you have a man like John? So caring and kind and knowledgeable—older and experienced and so out of your reach. 

"I don't—" The tears start to flow freely, as you desperately search John's eyes for answers. 

"Shh, come here, I've got you." He pulls you in close, his arms wrapping around you in a warm, secure embrace. His smell surrounds you, the soothingly familiar smoke coating your skin. Lips press against your forehead delicately, as he holds you like he's holding every piece of you together, bit by bit. His body is like his presence—solid, unwavering, ever-present.

"I've got you, everything's going to be okay." He whispers, over and over and over again, chanting it like a prayer.

In his embrace, firm and reassuring, you might actually believe him.

taglist: @ramadiiiisme @pterodactyal @hexqueensupreme @ivymarquis @djaarinn @oilfics @ghosts-cyphera @bookwyirm @msdrpreist @kmi-02 @ohworm-writes @mockerycrow @nakedcrackers @caoradubh @cassiecasluciluce @cloudsovercoffee @lovewithasideoflust @elysian0612 @astraluminaaa @sesh-goth @ninman82 @bootboob @evivarys @dangerkitten1705 want to be tagged? click here! want to be untagged? dm me or comment, i won’t be offended ♥

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Hcs for how each of the boys to react to "I'm pregnant"?

Any of them that you want to write for :)

So excited

English not my first language. Sorry

Van Der Linde Gang's Boys' Reactions To "I'm pregnant" (And Eagle Flies)

Hehehe this was so cute and also I didn't edit this ❤️

Warnings: none

Arthur Morgan

He'd be so fucking happy

Probably in disbelief at first but oh my God he'd be overjoyed

Ask you if you're serious over and over

Once he's convinced he's gonna ask all these questions about your physical and mental wellbeing

Celebrates with you (whatever that entails wink wink)

In his elated haze he's gonna wanna ask all these questions about your future together as parents

Is aware the gang ain't the best place to raise a kid but he'll reassure you that you'll have the whole gangs support

John Marston

Oh god

Let's just say he wouldn't be the most elated parent 😭💀

He's already got Jack and now he needs to take care of another?

If this were a revelation that came earlier in the game he's gonna be very irresponsible but I feel like he wouldn't deny that the kid was his

So at that point he's sort of forced to actually give a damn about him

And believe me he'd try but he wouldn't be the best at it, would need guidance

If this came later in the game like epilogue he'd probably be WAY more happier.

Your lives are finally settled and you can afford to have a kid

He'd be the happiest and more supportive husband and dad

Still wouldn't be sure about all the ropes but he'd try

Dutch Van Der Linde

He'd be SO happy

Like genuinely he'd shower you with gifts and praise and reassurance

I feel like part of it would be a power thing for him because not only can he lead a gang, but now he can lead a family

Also some sort of weird power symbol for him. Idk how, but it is

Wouldn't let you lift a finger

Would probably keep you in his tent to rest 24/7 and only allows a few people (Grimshaw, Hosea) to see you

He's going to hope and pray it's a boy

Charles Smith

HE'D BE IN SO MUCH SHOCK AND FEEL SM HAPPINESS IT'D BE SO CUTE

You sorta have to repeat the news to him a few times for him to fully absorb it

Literally a dream of his to start a family one day so now that he has it he's ecstatic

Probably incentive to leave the gang though, doesn't want his child growing up in that environment

Would prefer if you sit back and rest but won't hold you back if you don't want to

Javier Escuella

This is cause to celebrate

Takes you into town on a date

Offers you massages, foot rubs, hand massages

Sings to you to calm you

Holds your hair when you throw up (true love)

Buys you clothes to accomodate to your changing body

Kieran Duffy

THE SWEETEST REACTION

I feel like he'd start crying

Asks to touch your belly and would speak to it

That night he'd fall asleep while holding it

Wakes up the next morning and remembers you're pregnant and his day is already off to an amazing start

Get drunk while celebrating it and he'd boast to everyone about how he's gonna be a dad

Sean Macguire

He'd say some stupid shit I already know it

Probably crack a sex joke

He's getting stupid, fucking drunk. I'm talking black out

He's probably gonna wanna celebrate if you catch my drift HAHAHA

He'd forget to be gentle sometimes out of excitement, like carrying you around and cheering

Refuses to let you do any work

In private I feel like he'd cry

Lenny Summers

He'd probably panic a bit at first

Ask all these questions about how you guys are gonna be parents and if you're even ready

Once the two of you talk through it a little more he'll calm down and his nerves turn to excitement

I'm assuming y'all would be real young so he'd seek for a lot of guidance in the others

Constantly asks you questions about what you want and need

Bill Williamson

He'd be so flustered and nervous

Probably in disbelief for a while and asks if you're serious

I wouldn't blame you for thinking he's upset with the news at first

But he just needs time to process how his life's about to change!

He becomes even more gentle with you, more than he already is

Will argue with Miss Grimshaw about letting you rest/lightening your work load

And let's be real, she would lower your work load but he'd insist it stops altogether

Micah Bell

He'd be in disbelief, but bad disbelief

That or the sleaziest reaction

I'm leaning more towards sleazy reaction

Talks about how he's gonna raise the bravest kid and he's constantly gonna reference to the kid as he because I'm convinced he wants a boy

Brags to the others

Don't get me wrong the gang's happy for you but the way Micah uses it as a point of elevation is IRRITATING

Hosea Matthews

He's the cutest like seriously

He'd be sooo happy

Probably in disbelief that he even managed to get you pregnant

I believe he'd cry, and openly, he's not ashamed! He's happy!

Announces it to the whole gang, means for celebration

Takes you on dates to buy cute little baby items ahhh

Eagle Flies

HE'D FREAK THE FUCK OUT

Pace around the room asking if you're for real, contemplates his entire life, curses himself for cumming inside

You'd have to calm him down and talk him through it

It'd be a super emotional moment for the two of you, eventually he'd realize he's fine with the idea of kids and he's just nervous!

Would ask his dad and a lot of tribe members for advice

Over time he'd get way more excited and bring up the topic more often

[theambitiouswoman]

hiya, please can we also have ted talk recommendations like your book recs post? :) for the categories you mentioned ♡ thank you

Here you go angel ♡

Business:

The Single Biggest Reason Why Startups Succeed - Bill Gross

The Surprising Habits of Original Thinkers - Adam Grant

The Art of Stress-Free Productivity - David Allen

How to Pitch to a VC - David S. Rose

The Future of Money - Neha Narula

Personal Development:

The Art of Being Yourself - Caroline McHugh

Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance - Angela Lee Duckworth

The Power of Believing That You Can Improve - Carol Dweck

How to Stop Screwing Yourself Over - Mel Robbins

Try Something New for 30 Days - Matt Cutts

Mental Health:

The Gift and Power of Emotional Courage - Susan David

Why We All Need to Practice Emotional First Aid - Guy Winch

Depression, the Secret We Share - Andrew Solomon

All it Takes is 10 Mindful Minutes - Andy Puddicombe

The Art of Stillness - Pico Iyer

Relationships:

The Secret to Desire in a Long-Term Relationship - Esther Perel

The Power of Vulnerability in Relationships - Tracy McMillan

Rethinking Infidelity... a Talk for Anyone Who Has Ever Loved - Esther Perel

The Mathematics of Love - Hannah Fry

The Hidden Influence of Social Networks - Nicholas Christakis

Success:

The Happy Secret to Better Work - Shawn Achor

Embrace the Near Win - Sarah Lewis

Why We Do What We Do - Tony Robbins

Keep Your Goals to Yourself - Derek Sivers

Why You Will Fail to Have a Great Career - Larry Smith

Goals:

The Power of Setting Goals - John Doerr

The Puzzle of Motivation - Dan Pink

Smash Fear, Learn Anything - Tim Ferriss

Why We Do What We Do - Tony Robbins

The Skill of Self-Confidence - Dr. Ivan Joseph

Self Love:

The Art of Being Yourself - Caroline McHugh

The Power of Vulnerability - Brené Brown

Your Elusive Creative Genius - Elizabeth Gilbert

The Psychology of Your Future Self - Dan Gilbert

The Surprising Science of Happiness - Dan Gilbert

Confidence:

Your Body Language May Shape Who You Are - Amy Cuddy

The Art of Self-Confidence - Dr. Ivan Joseph

Dare to Lead - Brené Brown

The Hidden Influence of Social Networks - Nicholas Christakis

The Confidence Gap - Katty Kay and Claire Shipman

Health & Wellness:

The Brain-Changing Benefits of Exercise - Wendy Suzuki

How to Make Stress Your Friend - Kelly McGonigal

The Science of Cells That Never Get Old - Elizabeth Blackburn

Why Dieting Doesn't Usually Work - Sandra Aamodt

The Art of Stillness - Pico Iyer

[10yrsyart]

Logos- the Word of God Erebos- darkness, gloom

i don't remember where i heard this analogy, but it really stuck with me. you can't stay on the fence of belief/ unbelief forever, because the devil owns the fence. he owns all the religions of the world, except for the only faith that can save you: faith in the blood of Jesus Christ. the Son of God came down, lived a sinless life, took our sins upon Himself in death, and resurrected so we might have life too. because He LOVES us.

the truth is, you don't know when the end of your life will be. when you come to stand before the Just and Righteous Judge, will you be covered by Jesus' perfect blood, shielding you from punishment? or will you still have all your sins covering you because you rejected Him?

i don't write this to condemn, but because i love you and want you to have an eternity of joy and peace. so i warn you with love: Jesus is returning soon, to take His people away before God's Wrath and judgement begins (Revelation 3:10, 1 Thessalonians 5:9).

signs in the sun, moon, and stars. wars and rumors of wars, people's love for each other turning to hate. the increased intensity of natural disasters and strange behavior of animals. every other week some expert talks of world distinction events in our future (AI, or famine, or disease, or WWIII). God has sent dreams and visions to all people about the times about to happen. you can feel there's something weird about the world right now. God is speaking loudly.

now is the time to repent, accept the sacrifice for your sins and put your faith in Him. now is the time to step into the Kingdom of Life that will never pass away 💙✝ "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, so that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life (...) There is no judgment against anyone who believes in Him. But anyone who does not believe in Him has been judged already, for not believing in God's one and only Son." (John 3:16, 18)

transcript:

Helel: What did they say that gripped your attention so much?

Girl: Prince Helel. She was just telling me about life in the Logos Kingdom compared to the Erebos Kingdom. I haven't really decided where I want to live yet.

Helel: Pffeh, I can assure you, she greatly exaggerate. I've been to the Logos Kingdom. Those people are practically in chains and they don't even realize.

Girl: ..But you rule the Erebos Kingdom. Doesn't that make you a little bias? Either way, I'd still like to decide for myself.

Helel: Of course, of course! Take all the time you want. We'd love to have you!

(years pass)

Girl: Helel, what's happening?!

Helel: That, my dear, is a curtain call.

Girl: I don't understand-

Helel: It's time you came with me.

Girl: Wait-! But I never picked a kingdom! I'm still on the fence-

Helel: Oh, I'm terribly sorry for the confusion! You see, I OWN the fence!

Girl: No! Get off me! I thought I had more time! Stop-!

Girl: King Yeshua!!

Helel: No, sshe'sss mine! Sshe waited too long-

Yeshua: (Release her. Serpent.)

Helel: (Fine. But they won't all want sssaving~)

Girl: Thankyou, thankyou, he almost had me! If You didn't... I'm so sorry. Please don't send me back to him-

Yeshua: I came to you when you called, didn't I? You made your decision. And I'm so Glad! Allow Me to welcome you home, Dear One.

[andiboyo]

HEADCANONS FOR COD MEN

The following includes (John Price, John MacTavish, Simon Riley, Philip Graves, and Alejandro Vargas)

"Price" John Price

-Very professional at first when dating, he’s a very respectable guy but later he’s just mush in your hands

-This man loves you with all his heart, poor man’s an old sap, but he’s your old sap <3

-Prepare for a lot of teasing from teammates

-If you’re in the military, he’s 100% for it, but will treat you the same as his soldiers on the battleground, little cracks include when missions start or end

-He’s very worried for you, he’s scared to see you getting hurt

-If you’re a normal civilian waiting for him at home you bet your ass he’s a domestic goofball

-He loves you, and any chance he gets he’s putting a ring on that finger

-Loves taking you to dinner either way, a gentleman

-You’re pretty much best buds with 141

-Quality time is his best strong suit, he’s an old man so he’s got more time on his hands

“Soap” Johnny McTavish

-Scotsman, 100% teases you 24/7

-Loves the look of his flustered S/O

-Don’t even get him started on if his S/O’s in the military, always one eye open for them

-But otherwise, he believes in your strength, he’s just never had such deep love for a person as he has with you

-After every mission good or bad, kiss on the forehead, he’s affectionate

-If you’re a normal civilian he’s spilling the beans on military life, nothing gruesome though, you're the light of his life and he doesn’t want you hearing too much of his military brutality and sacrifices

-Overall he’s an attentive lover that gives gifts, he’s all for dates but since he’s on the younger side he’s always getting called in

-He loves you though and send you letters every week <3

“Ghost” Simon Riley

-Serious on the battlefield before and after, but in private?

-This man is a cuddle bug

-Love him <33

-He's just so clingy

-If you're in the military he’s alright with that, doesn’t doubt your abilities and has good expectations for having his S/O with him

-If you’re a normal civilian chances are how you met is you are friends with one of the 141 members and they introduced you to him

-One thing led to the next

-And you got together

-It takes time but he’ll take off his mask

-He lets you do the honors, but it takes a bit for him to warm up to that idea

-So expect to sleep with a man still wearing his skull mask

-Overall a sweetheart and a fine gentleman, he likes spending quality time with you whenever he can, little souvenirs too from the battlefield

-Very shy to ask for anything, hugging, kissing, handholding? This man has had a few women in his life maybe, yeah, but you’re his first true love, he’s putty in your hands

(Lord have mercy)

“Graves” Philip Graves

-He prefers a S/O that’s a normal civilian

-If you’re in the military and he takes a liking to you, then he’s gonna be wrapped around your finger

-He’s just so worried of the future that if he knows you face danger every day it’s gonna be a weigh on his shoulders

-He doesn’t mind it, he doesn’t doubt your abilities he’s just very worried

-Now, if you’re a civilian and he falls in love with you, he’s such a protective Boyfriend/Husband

-Loves you to bits

-Will never stop talking to you about missions and just wants you safe

-Hand holding 24/7

-He’s very shy when asking for things like hugs, just not used to it as much

-Gift giving and Quality time

-Best of both worlds with this man

(screaming)

“Alejandro” Alejandro Vargas

-OH

-MI VIDA <3333

-Do not think he will judge whether you're in the military or a civilian

-He loves you no matter what

-Race? Ethnicity? Doesn't matter?

-Having a hispanic S/O? Great! You bond some more!

-American S/O who doesn’t know spanish? He’s using unknown compliments in spanish to his advantage

-Im sorry

-He's just so fine

-Now, he's a man of quality time, compliment giving

-But in his line of work, he’ll tease a lot, though serious, he needs a few laidback moments

-If you’re in the military, he’ll be one step behind you

-If you’re a normal civilian, he's always coming back to you with open arms a̶n̶d̶ ̶o̶p̶e̶n̶ ̶l̶e̶g̶s̶

-He’s only nervous about one thing, kissing, mans always asks you even if you’ve reassured him one-hundred times

-------

A/N

hey all! It's been a bit. Im alive. Been a good minute hasn't it? Not really going to be running a schedule again but if you'd like to request any characters from these fandoms go ahead! It might motivate me to write more! Thank you <3

-COD MW2

-Marvel

-Resident Evil

-Arthur Morgan

-Overwatch

Love you all!

- Andi

[secretpostsposts]

I'm going to call this Sibling Change

To avoid confusion, I'm going to call the adult version of the brothers John Dory, Bruce (they are the ones whose name can best be changed), Adult Clay, Adult Floyd and Branch, the young versions JD, Spruce, Young Clay, Young Floyd and Bitty B; unless it's Branch talking to the younger versions and he used the correct names (I imagine calling Spruce Bruce a mistake sometimes)

But more or less this is what I have in mind:

The adult siblings are very "emotional" as they see BittyB and have many feelings of guilt or regret because, their brother could have remained a sweet and gentle baby, but they ruined him, especially John Dory, I imagine that at some point he didn't. He endures it and only carries Bitty B and hugs him as if fearing that he would disappear into thin air and cries and asks, no, begs him to forgive him (taking into account that it was 20 years, I say John Dory seems to have traveled a lot, at some point). point returned to the Trolls Tree, so he could, for a while, believe that Branch was... Dead; I'm an older sister and I may not get along with my brother, the mere idea of losing him like that or having that idea, kills me inside, so John Doy may have that trauma, so not only does he apologize to Bitty B, he wants to believe that if he takes care of this version of his brother he will fix something about his now adult brother that he lives with) so I see a lot of part of the adult siblings these scenarios of regret and helplessness because they have this baby Branch in their hands and they know what to do but they feel bad, because he is their brother, but not their brother at the same time, they feel that they are trying to "replace" him in some way. shape.

While with the Band (I will refer to them that way since they are still a band and act more like brothers according to me) they are "floating" in the situation they feel unreal, they have their little brother, who is a baby, he wears a diaper !, and out of nowhere this adult Trolls Branch appears who claims to be Bitty B but in 20 years in the future and is so drastically different from his little brother, they understand that their little brother will change as he grows, but there is something wrong with this Branch, he doesn't seem to know how to deal with them, mistakes Spruce for "Bruce" and doesn't find Clat funny, and. Bitty B loves Clay's jokes, he seems nervous, and seems ready to have a heart attack every time he mentions or sees a Bergen too close to the tree, he also makes faces every time JD says something about the band or Harmony. Perfect Family; and not to mention Grandma, they just don't know what to do with this Branch, they know he's their brother but it's like having a perfect stranger in the house and their colors are so dull that they're starting to get sick with worry, and Branch is starting to ( I don't know if it's stealing or undermining) he will take JD's authority over the Band (brothers), he doesn't even let Grandma be in charge, he takes charge and it's strange.

This is more like a base of what the brothers' relationship will be like in these situations, a fanfic will be made, someone asked about it in the previous post, and Tumblr won't let me respond to the comments, so if anyone has something to say , the question box is open

[felassan]

Some DA facts collected together, from recent tweets -

GhilDirthalen: "the frostbite engine didn’t do ending slides, so the slides you see in DAI are actually paintings that quickly spawn in your bed room. You can zoom out during the end with fly cam" John Epler: "i remember when we were trying to do these and we're like 'hey can we display still images' and the answer was 'uhh it's a lot more complicated than you think' so this was the solution. i set up all the cameras, and I THINK level design handled all the scripting logic" JE: "anyways videogames are basically held together by magic and hope and it's a legitimate miracle anytime one gets finished"

JE: "When you 'sprint' on a horse in DAI it doesn't really do much because frostbite couldn't stream in levels fast enough, so we just added speed lines and changed the camera so it felt faster. JE: "i've carried the guilt of this for years. guilt is an ocean, and i'm tired of drowning." "feels like I just murdered Santa Claus in front of many of you" [source], "feels like i just declassified Area 51" [source]. "i'm just glad the truth is finally out there" [source] Seb Hanlon: "ME1 did it first" JE: "just to be SUPER clear, riding a horse is faster than being on-foot, but the difference between normal horse run and horse 'sprint' is non-existent except for making it look faster". "the base horse speed is faster than unhorsed run speed, but horse sprint doesn’t move you faster than normal horse speed" [source] JE: "there were three days on that project where my entire job was ‘try to make horse sprint feel faster’" User: "I swear to god John I knew it, I fucking knew it, none of the mounts have different speeds, either?" JE: "i actually don't know the answer to that one, i just set up the gameplay cameras and did what what i was told." Seb: "but they have different sounds /screams in Red Hart" JE: "no one believed that's what a Red Hart really sounds like but they are fucked up animals."

Seb: "The save system in DAI loads with all doors in the area closed. This is a problem if there’s a door between you and a party member when the save happens, because they can’t open doors. If they can’t path to you, they get teleported to join you before the fade-up from black." Seb: "This “system” was rigged entirely in Frostbite Schematic logic quite late in development once we realized it was a problem." JE: "i vaguely remember that the first time we really saw this problem was when we were putting together the Redcliffe demo for... whatever event we showed Redcliffe at." Seb: "Yeah I think that was the map I tested the teleport-fallback in. Dorian was there in those saves for sure?" JE: "yeah 100%. it was when you first end up in the future and you're fighting your way to the locked-up followers. i think we were playing it in Hanged Man or Neverwinter and we discovered 'oh shit our followers can't get to you'"

Seb: "Zither’s first-pass ability icons originally echoed a broad swath of iconic album art. The UI art team made me so happy. Why didn’t it ship? Ain’t nobody chasing down those IP clearances for an April Fools DLC."

JE: "in DA2 Mark of the Assassin, if you let Baron Arlange live after the first encounter with him, he shows up very deep in the background of several scenes, creeping on Hawke and the party around stalagmites and around corners." "no one asked for this but i put it in as a little treat because i thought it was very funny. i still do. oh the scene where you get captured in the vault by Prosper and his guards, that's the same 5 (6?) guards just cycled through multiple times." [source, two]

JE: "i've told this story before but the reason Iron Bull's romance scene takes place in a separate tower is because the mocap for everyone walking in on you assumed that there was a doorway, and the player's bedroom ended up having stairs. so we moved the scene to the Sex Tower"

Seb: "DAI: To enable party followers’ AI to use their defensive abilities (dodge/block/parries), enemies spawn a “telegraph volume” as part of their ability wind-ups. This tells the party AI what kind of reaction it can use to counter (if it’s not on cooldown and it can branch in time)." "“Parry” telegraphs are the ‘weakest’ (can activate block, dodge, or parry abilities); “dodge” telegraphs are the ‘strongest’ (dodge or get fucked). There’s an all-abilities AI cooldown on these responses; before this was added, I saw Cass perfect block for minutes at a time." [source]

Seb: "the Qunari Ashaad in Trespasser is the only combat creature I personally implemented; and the only one intentionally plays both ranged and melee. and it was great fun watching play-testers climb a ladder to close and shut down his range attack—and get kicked off by the sweep"

Seb: "I’m still personally pleased that the Red Templar faction in DAI has such a strong overarching principle: “power corrupts”. The more elite the creature, the less human they are."

Seb: "Both the Children in DAO Awakening and the Harvester in DAO hide their extra body parts *inside* their torso mesh before they appear."

Seb: "Varric in DA2 is the most specialest snowflake; he’s not like any other dwarf because his rig includes all the Bianca animation bones."

Seb: "DAI’s Emerald Graves was the map where we hammered out the conceptual balance of using abilities based on the enemy composition and position."

Seb: "There’s an animation-driven movement mode in DAI that’s only used by a handful of large creatures; the dragon and the Red Templar Behemoth are the ones I remember."

Seb: "“making two combat creatures at melee range face, and not slide past, each other when they’re playing attack animations” took a surprising amount of problem solving on DAI; most of the basic-attack animations have both moving and standing variations for this reason."

Seb: "30 seconds of good combat gameplay takes more-or-less the same development effort as 10 minutes of good combat gameplay. Which is more than you’d think. IYKYK."

Seb: "The original concept for the Grand Fear Demon at the end of DAI’s Fade was a “level boss” - instead of a single big combat creature (like a dragon), the idea was it was so big it would attack out of the darkness with “limbs” (creatures) that shared a health pool. Cut for scope."

Seb: "The core combat ability animation/effects/branching system in DAI is called “CSM”, for “combat state machine”. It’s the third generation spiritual successor to the first system called CSM that I worked on, built for a project called Revolver…"

Seb: "The “impassable” purple fire zones in Trespasser were a tremendous pain in the ass, because both: - making them do enough damage fast enough to be a lock-and-key for invincibility powers as intended - keeping party members from following you in and getting bug-zappered" User: "I hate to tell you this but my first time through, I was determined to get through and I did not know that invincibility powers were literally down the stairs so I spent 10 minutes and eventually managed to get through with some mage shenanigans" Seb: "by the time we got to trespasser there were so many abilities you MIGHT have that MIGHT JUST get you through that we gave it our best shot and said “good enough”" User: "I died at that thing SO MANY TIMES until I realized there was an invincibility boost, lol" Seb: "clearly signaling “THIS IS A THING YOU WILL DO LATER” without saying it, especially if it’s a mechanical systems thing, can be surprisingly difficult"

Seb: "during development on DAI someone made a staff that, when used (hit the ground with the butt animation) spawned a bunch of nugs that ran off in all directions. for checking pathmesh bounds, obvs"

[gendertrickster]

:33 < wait can you purrhaps explains how egbert made rosemary happen?

okay so i'm going to explain this from kanaya's perspective as it is somehow the most str8forward of the three of them

CONVERSATION ONE

kanaya is commanded by karkat to start trolling the humans, and she picks rose because she has already developed an impression of what kind of person rose is meant to be based on the guide she wrote and stored on a lone server in the depths of the furthest ring, which kanaya then made use of in the session that produced the universe rose inhabited in the first place.

however, as one who lacks any competence at computers whatsoever, kanaya stumbles through the first conversation without the viewport open, a conversation which gives her the impression that rose is very snarky and stupid and a huge smartass. in reality, the person behind the screen was john egbert, who was opaquely trolling kanaya back because he happened to be at rose's computer at the random point in time kanaya chose to troll rose — rose was asleep. "rose" suggests kanaya go troll john in the past so she can figure out what is going on with these humans.

following this, kanaya gets the viewport to work just as john has already left the room and sees rose, now awake, standing at her door. she then bears witness to the thank-you prank john prepared as a response to rose gifting him the knitted bunny:

she is mortified by the sight, concluding that rose can be nothing short of an utter buffoon.

she then determines there's really no point to trolling someone who can evidently provide no intellectual challenge. the next logical course of action, then, is to go troll john fucking egbert

john proceeds to prove even DUMBER than "rose", which drives kanaya fucking insane — which is what john wanted in the first place, since acting like an idiot is his go-to countertrolling method — and lands john a humble few ticks of the prankster's gambit (for now). john suggests kanaya give rose another chance, and kanaya departs with no intention of john "ever hearing from her again", which is true from her perspective but not john's, because she just finished talking to john in the future, who was disguised as rose.

kanaya finds no interest in talking to dave or jade and, to her vast irritation, finds her curiosity drifting back in rose's direction.

CONVERSATION TWO

kanaya finds john to have been right, that this rose is not the same one she spoke to in her first conversation, and concludes that rose has indeed been toying with her all along. she informally declares trolling war on rose lalonde.

CONVERSATION THREE

kanaya skips ahead to a point where she'd hoped friendship had been established already but finds rose unresponsive, and also that rose has at this point already figured out what has been going on in regards to the "smart rose/dumb rose" thing, and that it wasn't a tactical move on rose's part. she doesn't give details, of course, because that would cause a time paradox, but it clues kanaya in on her future self's machinations.

her fourth, fifth, and sixth conversations pass by offscreen, with kanaya feeling as if she's losing hold on this friendship gambit she's putting effort into for some reason. she goes to dave for insight, as he is rose's server player, and he tells her to pull out all the psychological stops and play mind games wherever possible. she believes she knows how to proceed.

and it is here where her plan comes to form in full:

CONVERSATION SEVEN

here, kanaya attaches "ConversationWithAVeryStupidGirl.Txt", which is the first conversation kanaya had with user tentacleTherapist. at this point in rose's timeline, this conversation hasn't happened yet; this is only her second conversation with kanaya, whereas her first with kanaya was kanaya's "third" with rose. the attached conversation would be rose's next conversation with kanaya, or so the two of them both thought at this point.

kanaya's play here, then, is that by sending this conversation (with various edits and tactical omissions) to rose, rose would be forced into the causal position of reenacting it perfectly, making herself look the fool to kanaya, sparking this trolling effort in the first place, thereby being outplayed by kanaya and, officially, trolled.

except,

rose was not the one who spoke to kanaya the first time she contacted that handle.

it was john.

CONVERSATION EIGHT

kanaya, having now been hooked by john, pulled all the way through several conversations with rose that culminated in the impression that she had the upper hand, and finally being led to observe rose destroying a vital game construct in a display of light-player hubris with which kanaya is deeply and viscerally familiar, has been successfully trolled by john into a position of deep concern and reckless affection for rose lalonde, hook, line, and sinker.

whether john actually planned any of this is hardly a question, but if you asked him at the time, he'd absolutely take credit for it in the smarmiest manner conjurable

[bitchin-beskar]

Sorry shamless asking for another one. Only if you wanna answer.

Either 141 boys or Paz ( or all ) not quite thot.

Their proposal style.

💍

Happy weekend!

do I wanna answer????

you bet ur ass i do goddamn

I'll do a little proposal style for college!athlete!roommate!paz if ya'll want, but I'll answer this ask specifically for our 141 boys (plus alejandro and rudy bc ofc)

Task Force 141 + Alejandro Vargas & Rodolfo Parra and Proposal Style

Captain John Price

I hc that Price has a love of old things. I think he loves antiques, history, collectibles, etc. I think his flat is filled with memorabilia shit from WWI and WWII, classic novels he finds at garage sales and thrift book shops that are well worn and well loved, things with history and a past, things that mean something.

So, I think when he's going to propose, he's got the ring picked out, something he found in a pawn shop or thrift store, something that's old and beautiful, full of meaning and history. Of course, if it needs repairing, or new setting, he'll do what he needs to, make sure that it's clean and polished and that it suits you. He just likes sharing these little bits of history that have fascinated him for his entire life with you, and to put one of those little bits of history on your finger and swearing to love you for eternity? He loves it.

For reference, I imagine the ring Price finds looks something like this:

For the actual proposal, he's not going to make a big, public spectacle. He's always a little more uncomfortable in crowded places, due to his years as active military, he's a paranoid bastard by nature, and besides, this is supposed to be a happy, special occasion and something he wants to be fully engaged in, not distracted trying to analyze potential threats to your safety.

You're probably at home, in the flat you share with him. He'll make dinner, nothing super fancy, but a comfort meal that both of you love. It's not overly fancy or romantic, but it's thoughtful and sweet and everything that you love about him. He'd wanted to wait until after you'd both eaten, and were maybe cuddled up on the couch in front of the fire, but as he's putting the leftovers away, and you're elbow deep in sudsy water, rinsing the dishes, he finds he physically cannot wait a second longer.

He drops to a knee, the quiet utterance of your name barely heard over the rushing sink water, but you throw a "Yes, John?" over your shoulder. When he doesn't say anything, you turn to look and realise what's happening.

Of course, the two of you have talked about it before, after you'd been settled in a relationship for a few years, talking about the future and what you both wanted, but you'd had no idea when he was planning to propose, so the act itself is shock. You don't even shut off the water, falling to your own knees in front of him, hands fisting in the front of his shirt as you whisper "yes" against his mouth before you kiss him.

He reluctantly pulls away from your kiss, only to slide the ring onto your finger, before he pulls the both of you to your feet. Shutting off the water is the extent of the cleaning that you finish, deciding as you stumble to the bedroom that the rest of the dishes can wait until after the two of you have had some time to celebrate.

Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley

I think that for the longest time, Ghost truly believed he'd never marry. At first, it was just a matter of not having met anyone he'd want to spend the rest of his life with, but over time and missions, scars and torments, blood and secrets, Ghost decided that he'd never find someone who'd be able to love all of him, that he was only good for the harsh things in life, never the soft.

So, it's a huge surprise when he meets you and realises months into knowing you that he's fallen, and he's fallen hard. He meets you in the most mundane of places, like a coffee shop, an interaction that should just be a one off, but one that repeats with enough regularity that the cold, stone muscle that functions as his heart begins to beat faster with excitement at the anticipation of seeing you.

You remember him, greet him with a soft smile whenever you see him, never seeming to be put off by the fact that he never removes his balaclava. You'll ask him how he's doing, but you don't seem to mind that his answers are usually a fraction of the syllables. He's used to his size intimidating others, but you never seem to mind that he's roughly the size of a tank.

I think it's like pulling teeth to get him to admit his feelings, but when he finally does, the two of you fall into a relationship like you were built for each other. It's easy, far easier than the rest of his life, and for the first time, he finds himself dreading longer missions, because he's actually got someone to come home to.

That being said, I think when he proposes, it's not something planned. Maybe something happens at home, where you are, the danger not being something he'd thought to worry about. Maybe there was a robbery, maybe someone attacked your workplace with a gun, and when Ghost sees it on the news, because Johnny's there saying "Dinnae ya say somethin' 'bout ya girl workin' there, Ghost?", he panics.

Price gets him on the first flight home, and Ghost is bursting into your flat with an urgency he's not felt outside the battlefield, even though it's the dead of night and you're fast asleep in your bed. He doesn't miss a beat, shedding the worst of his tac gear and crawling onto the bed, wrapping his arms and legs around you even as you stir awake, burying his face in your neck as his heartbeat finally begins to slow.

You seem to know why he's here, why he's like this, because you don't say anything, just simply wrap your own arms around him, tugging off his mask and running your fingers through his sweaty, tousled hair. Your other hand presses in between his shoulder blades, dwarfed by the massive size of his torso, but still a grounding touch.

It takes him a long time to speak, longer than usual, and when he finally does, it's to whisper against your skin that he wants to marry you, like a sinner at confessional, begging absolution from the Priest of God.

You still underneath him, definitely not expecting that to be what he says, but it's like the dam has burst, and he can't seem to stop. He tells you about how scared he was when he'd heard, a fear he hasn't felt since he was young, unscarred and unknowing of the horrors of humanity. He'd known that you meant a lot to him, but the thought of losing you had shaken him more than he'd thought possible. He whispers that he can't give you much, he knows that, but he wants to give you his name, and a promise that he'll love you as best he can, for as long as he's got on this earth.

Your body is shaking under him, and he starts to pull back, worried he's crossed a line, but you're sobbing, silent and desperate, even as you tug him up and seal your lips against his. He sinks into your kiss, tears he's been holding back finally falling too. You whisper back that yes, yes dammit you want to marry him, and you don't care about him giving you anything other than his love.

In the morning, the two of you go to a jewelry store, and pick out matching bands, simple silver rings with no gemstones or embellishments. You get them engraved, on the inside where the metal rests against your skin, his name on yours and your name on his, to carry each other when you're apart.

Sergeant John 'Soap' MacTavish

For Soap, I think he buys the ring within the first month of dating. Some (most) might call him eager, maybe childish in his hope, but Soap is an excellent judge of character. He's never once been wrong, his gut instinct always telling him the measure of those he meets, and so when he starts dating you, he knows very quickly that you're the one he's gonna spend the rest of his life with.

People tend to assume he's a fuckboy, likely due to his flirtatious tendencies. He knows what others think of him, and for the most part, it doesn't bother him. However, it takes him far longer than he'd like to convince you that he's actually interested, because of how flirtatious he can be, you think he's just like that with everyone.

Honestly, Price has to pull you aside and tell you to put the poor boy outta his misery by either going out with him, or not. You're very stunned, because it's honestly been torture for you to be around him because you're very into him, but were convinced that he just saw you as a friend. Price just shakes his head and calls you both muppets.

When you're together, it's the happiest the both of you have ever been. Your sense of humour compliments each others, you always have so much fun together, it's honestly the time of your life. You miss him terribly when he's gone, but Soap has a habit of leaving little slips of paper with jokes and puns written on them around the apartment, a little surprise for you to find and to remind you that he's always thinking of you when he's gone.

Soap's proposal happens somewhat spontaneously. He's come home from a long op, and the two of you haven't left the bed in damn near twenty-four hours. He's lounging on the pillows, with you tucked under his arm, ear over his heart and left hand resting on his bare chest. His own hand covers yours, his thumb stroking over the skin of your fourth finger, a habit he's picked up lately.

Finally, he pipes up, voice thick with his Scottish accent, and asks what you'd think about marryin' him.

At first, you think he's joking, because as much as you love him, you'd never really thought he might be the marrying type. He carries the air of a free spirit, one who operates best not tied to anything or anyone. You joke a bit about how he needs a ring at least before he thinks about proposing, only for him to reach over and open the drawer on his nightstand, pulling out a small velvet box and popping it open before your wide and startled eyes.

"Whaddya think, bonnie?" He husks, voice clear and nonchalant even as his eyes betray his nerves. "Think you'd be willin' ta tie yourself ta me for the rest 'o our lives?"

You pluck the gold band from the crushed velvet, slipping it onto your finger even as tears fill your eyes. You stare at it on your hand for a long moment, before you look up to see Soap still watching you, hope blooming desperately in his gaze, even as he tries to reign it in.

"You damn foolish scot," you mutter, cupping his face and bringing him down to kiss him. "There'll never been anyone else."

Sergeant Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Ok so maybe this is a hot take but I chose to believe that Gaz is actually already married by the time of COD: MWII. No one knows. Not even Price. He marries his childhood best friend the minute they're both 18, and they've been together even longer.

ANYWAYS

Like I said, childhood best friends, so they were always together, all throughout school, hanging out in the afternoons, sleepovers on weekends, the whole shebang. Your parents and his called it early on that the two of you would end up together, but even they were a little surprised at the speed of which you got married. But, to none of their surprise, your marriage was one of the strongest they'd ever seen.

You knew each other's faults, your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves and your favorite things about each other, it only made sense for you to trip over the line between friendship and relationship sometime around when you were maybe 12 years old.

Even before then, when the two of you were maybe 7 or 8, you made a pact that you'd get married as soon as you could. As a promise, Gaz gets you a ring like this, from a cheap coin vending machine in the local grocery store:

It's a running joke in the family, that he decided when he first saw you that he was gonna marry you, although they don't really realize just how true that is.

On the night of graduation, after you've finished celebrating with your families, you and Gaz are holed up in your childhood bedroom. Your 18th birthday is in a week, Gaz's was a month ago. Your wearing the ring he'd given you damn near a decade ago on a chain around your neck, and his eyes fall to where it lays nestled between your breasts, even as he draws a small box from his pocket.

"Figured it was time to upgrade, eh, love?"

The rose gold band sparkles in the lamplight, and there's a huge grin on your face as you take the band from him. There's a large diamond in the center, but not too large as to be gaudy or flashy. Just enough to make a statement, a declaration.

"In a week," Gaz says, voice hush with anticipation. "Lets go to the courthouse, and I'll give you the matching one. What'cha say?"

"The same thing I said when we were eight, Kyle," you murmur, eyes unable to leave the pretty ring on your finger. "Yes."

Colonel Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro is really damn hesitant to propose, mostly because of how at risk any of his family is with his history of fighting the cartel. Anyone with a connection to him is another way to hurt him, and to ask you to go into hiding, cut off most all contact with any outside friends? He's afraid, he doesn't want you to begin to regret being with him, he's seen the toll being in hiding has taken of the marriages of some of his Vaqueros, and it would kill him to lose you.

It takes you a long time to convince him that even if you don't get married, you're not going anywhere. You love him, and damn anyone who tries to come between that, cartel or otherwise.

The final push for Alejandro to propose is similar to Ghost's. He's working when he gets the news that the cartel has attacked the area you live in, and that there are multiple reported civilian deaths, although names aren't confirmed. He's terrified, and Rudy has to physically push him out of the compound to go, to try and get to you.

When he gets there, no one has seen you, and Alejandro can feel his stomach churning, his heart is in his throat. He was such a damn fool, he waited too long, and now he's never going to get to marry you, to call you his wife, to know what it feels like to wear a symbol of your love and devotion every day until he dies.

He hears your voice calling his name, and the pure relief he feels makes him dizzy with it, his knees going weak. He hoarsely calls your name, and your body slams into his, your arms wrapping tightly around him as if you could hold him together by pure will alone.

The rush of police and other Vaqueros around him fade into the background as he sinks into your embrace, whispering prayers and thanks and words of love in Spanish in your ear, kissing the top of your head repeatedly from where you've tucked your face against the base of his neck.

The next day, the two of you go to a small local jewelers, and pick out matching rings. Your next stop is the courthouse, with Rudy as your witness.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

Like Gaz, Rudy gets married young. He marries you shortly before he and Alejandro enlist in the army, because you'd pinned him with a glare one day and said if he died and you were going to mourn as his widow, you damn well were going to be his wife first.

Alejandro is thrilled when he hears, because he'd been telling Rudy to marry you for weeks, ever since he'd aired his concerns. (Rudy retaliates viciously when Alejandro is hesitating to propose to his wife).

He proposes to you with the ring his mamá had been given by his father, which she'd given to him when he told her he was going to propose to you. She'd given it to her son with tears in her eyes and very softly told him that if he got married without her there, no one would find his body.

You laughed yourself silly when Rudy told you what his mamá said, although that laughter cut off when you realised which ring he was giving you. You broke down in his mother's arms later, swearing to her that you'd treasure her ring and love Rudy the same way his father had lover her, and she simply cupped your cheek and told you that was all she'd ever ask.

It wasn't a necessarily memorable proposal, Rudy just coming home one day after visiting his mamá and bending the knee, but you'd prefer it to anything else, because it was so quintessentially Rodolfo.

Interestingly, because Rudy is married through his time in the military, he doesn't know at first that it'd be wiser to keep it a secret. When they find out Valería is El Sin Nombre, he's not quite sure what to think, because she definitely knew about you, and who you were to Rudy, but she never acted on it. It's probably just another facet of the twisted mind games she plays, but he's not sure. He tries not to think about it.

[qqueenofhades]

Sure, Mitch McConnell is evil. But I think progressives thrilled about his demise aren't considering the fact that right now he's pretty much the only person keeping the Senate Republican conference from turning into the House Republican conference. Like, yeah, he's a piece of shit who stole a supreme court seat, but he can keep the rightest of right flanks mostly under control. I don't know if potential future GOP Leader John Thune could do the same.

Look, I'm not going to call it thrilled, at least for me. He's an old man, he presumably has people (uh, somewhere) who love him, and if he loved them back, or anything more than power, he might retire to be with them and/or do something more appropriate for an 81-year-old man who clearly is not well. But as it is, he has spent 30 years being one of the worst impediments to progress in this whole country, he stole not one but THREE SCOTUS seats (or at least maneuvered in very, very bad faith to get them) and managed to install the current nightmare court that is stripping protections for women, workers/labor rights, LGBTQ people, health care, immigrants, the environment, anyone who doesn't want to get murdered by a gun, democracy, etc. etc. left and right. I have no sympathy for him, I will not be pretending sympathy for him, I don't think anyone else should be obliged to either, and his overall public legacy is one of absolutely damning and devastating damage. Fuck him.

Nor am I a believer in the "we should accept this terrible person because the next terrible person might be worse!" McConnell might not be an open raving MAGA conspiracy theorist, but he has never, not once, done the right thing and put principle over power. He might have personally loathed Trump; he still took full advantage of him to pack the courts with far-right Federalist Society hacks who will likewise damage the judiciary for the duration of their lifetime. He vigorously condemned Trump for January 6 and then immediately voted not to convict him for it. McConnell seems "reasonable" only because he can stand in public and not spew insane QAnon election conspiracy batshit theocratic nonsense, but once again: nobody except for Trump did more than him to fuck this country up, and he was and is very good at it. I'm honestly fine with his demise leaving a power vacuum that will impel the Republicans to spend so much time fighting each other that they might for once actually break the rigid ideological lockstep that McConnell maintained over all of them. Which was, as noted, precisely in support of Trump all the time. Don't let the fact that McConnell is able to masquerade as an establishment politician fool you. He is possibly even more toxic than the Josh Hawley and Ted Cruz GOP losers of the Senate, who talk an endless stream of idiocy and do little. McConnell says relatively little and does the most evil things of all.

Anyway, yes. Fuck him, fuck the things he's done, fuck the Republicans, and let them fight. It will be another mess to appoint his successor, it will make them even more toxic and extreme to the general electorate, and since they need to be burned to the ground and salted in the ashes before we should even think about giving them power again (not that this will happen, because MURKA), frankly, in the end, this is exactly what McConnell deserves.

[strangersteddierthings]

Plot Idea I'll never fully flush out or write but gotta get out of my head or it'll never let me know peace again. It's basically Steve sent from the future going all John Wick. if YOU want to take this plot and write it, or if it inspires you to write something, tag me in it. I'd love to read it.

A 26-year-old Steve Harrington gets sent back to the morning of November 6, 1983. IDK if it's like El using her powers to punch a hole in time or like, some other way but everyone still alive has given him something to use as proof of his time-travel and get their younger versions to believe him, because he's got a time limit. No idea how long, but once he's altered history enough that the timeline he left ceases to exist, so will he.

No one he cares about dies this time. It's the mantra playing on repeat in his head as he looks down at the notebook that took Nancy almost three full days of nonstop writing to fill. It's the entire timeline of events, gathered and recounted by everyone still alive, because this Steve has been fighting a losing battle since Spring Break of '86 because Henry won and Hawkins got torn apart and it's been a fight to survive ever since. He's going to stop that from happening.

No one dies this time.

Will doesn't get taken that night, because this Steve is already waiting for him at his house. From Will's perspective this is just some Guy but he's more scared of whatever chased him home then of the person on his doorstep. So, Steve tells him to hang tight and all but shoves him into the house before cutting himself somewhere on his arm and stepping onto the lawn yelling out 'come and get me, ugly'. Of course, the blood draws the demogorgon. And while 17-year-old Steve was no match for just one, this Steve has been fighting packs of them for years now.

He's armed to the teeth and takes it down with precision. He's not unharmed, just one is still fast and dangerous. Steve knows how to fight them now, though. He covers the dead demogorgon with a tarp he stole from his own garage earlier that day and sits on the front porch to wait for Joyce and Jonathan.

Will is both terrified and awed.

Somehow, someway, he gets the Byers to listen. Shows them the dead demogorgon and gives Joyce the notebook from his backpack.

"Read it, and if you aren't convinced, I have more proof of its contents."

And he leaves. The next morning, he has to find El before Benny does, which he succeeds at but just barely. El is skittish and afraid but Steve gets her to trust him. Maybe because her powers brought him back here, she feels a connection to him, a trust that's there instinctively?

He returns to the Byers' house, carrying El the whole way. He stays off the main roads because people are going to recognize him as Steve Harrington and the less people that see him, the better.

Joyce lets him in and immediately fusses over El. Gives her some of Wills clothes to wear.

She's read the notebook cover to cover and has questions. Steve has answers and digs into his backpack to find the item the Joyce from his timeline gave him for proof. Maybe the proof is the same for everyone - individually recorded cassette tapes of their own voices telling them impossible things. Other proof consists of a photo album, pictures of everyone, the destruction of Hawkins, and of the ramshackle home they'd built in the remains of the apocalypse.

Then something something, details pending, everyone gets filled in on the danger that's coming. Maybe the kids get left out this time, get to just be kids or maybe they don't.

Steve meets his younger self and that's just a whole Deal but eventually he gets his younger self to listen. He tells him that being a jackass isn't worth it, and that he's not going to have a reason to change who he is in this timeline, because the events that lead to him being a better person don't happen. He's not going to have his whole life uprooted, so if he wants to be a better, nicer person, he's going to have to pick that life for himself.

Steve doesn't know if his younger self will listen, but he hopes.

Steve hunts down Brenner and shoots him point blank in cold blood. No regrets. Then he shoots the corpse a couple more times. He doesn't get to hurt El ever again. It's only after that that Steve feels the shift, knows that he's going to cease existing by the end of the day, and there's one thing left he needs to do.

He gets Hopper to let him post up with him in his police car at Forest Hills Trailer Park so he can try and catch a glimpse of Eddie Munson, alive and well.

Hopper asks who Eddie is to him.

"Nothing. We never got a chance. Will never get a chance," Steve answers. "Your Steve Harrington won't ever have a reason to even look his way. He died, back in '86. He didn't need to. He shouldn't have."

"You spy on all the other people who died?" Hopper asks. It's not judgmental, just curious.

"No," Steve says, then decides to be honest because he's going to be gone soon anyway, "I barely knew Eddie, but I wanted to love him anyway. Fell in love with his memory, from stories told to me by the kids and Wayne. We were nothing to each other when he was alive, but he could have been everything if we'd gotten a chance."

They don't talk after that. Steve gets to see Eddie arrive home, jump from his van full of life and vibrance and if Hopper notices his silent cry, he politely ignores it.

They drive out to the quarry after. Steve doesn't know what it's going to mean for him to stop existing and he didn't really want a witness to it, but Hopper insisted someone should be or else they'll all just wonder about it.

They stand looking out across the water. Hopper sees something from the corner of his eye and turns to look at Steve but he's not there anymore.

There's nothing left of the Steve Harrington from the future but his actions and a photocopy of the notebook that Nancy made because she wanted to study it, but Joyce didn't want to let it out of her sight. The cassettes, photo's, and original notebook all just disappear before everyone's eyes.

The fight's not over. Henry is still alive, but they're more prepared for him this time around. They know what to expect.

Hopefully that'll be enough this time around.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

You might’ve already got this before, and I’m asking this in genuinely good faith.

Your essay was very interesting, and convinced me of Erikar as a ship reading. I also really enjoyed your dissection of Eridan as a very honest person drawn into destructive behavior. It very much lines up with his status as a Prince of Hope! One who destroys conviction/belief through conviction/belief.

What confused me was your insistence on the hidden hand of the author. Death of the Author and all that, what’s implied in the text can be taken on its own separate from commentary but you seem to be doing an autopsy— the text implies [this] so *Hussie* must have intended for [this] and then tried to cover it up. If they genuinely thought it was a better ending, why not do it? Why the secrecy, why the feints? I think it’s a little conspiracy-brained to insist on a secret “better ending” that we don’t have author’s word or drafts on.

I’m also a little drifted on your frustration with the deaths of the trolls? You write that the theme of Homestuck— a standard coming-of-age story, a reckoning with society and the exit from youth— is undercut by the deaths of the trolls, because that means they *had* to die, in *punishment*. I disagree. Their deaths are tragic, not just.

Homestuck has a lot of methods of revival, the choice to (for the most part) perma-kill some characters (the trolls for one, and then AR, WQ, and WK) is a deliberate choice to make death mean something. If dying doesn’t mean anything, what are the narrative stakes? Murderstuck marks Gamzee as a threat, Eridan as a tragedy. The deaths there are meant. To be sad. To demonstrate that sometimes kids don’t get to grow up, that sometimes the society they live in cuts them down.

Homestuck is a sad story at times! It doesn’t need an ending where everyone gets to live to keep its coming-of-age conclusion.

I hope this made sense. I’m not trying to attack you, I’m just skeptical of some of your points. I hope you go on to do more analysis in the future!

If you want to believe that, go ahead 👍 again, arguing my points on that front would require its own entire essay, lol, so I'm not really planning to do that as the answer to an ask. The only thing I really want to say here is that while Homestuck is often sad, as you say, its underlying tone is unwaveringly hopeful right up until Game Over/the Retcon, and even kind of beyond that. If you prefer a sad story, then you can have a sad story, but it's just not a reading consistent (to me) with the entire rest of what Homestuck is.

For example, the whole narrative grapples with the debate of predestination vs. free will. Do things happen in Homestuck because they have to, or because characters are making choices? But with the introduction of John's retcon powers, it lands firmly in the "free will" side of the debate: the retcon powers outright defy the power of stable time loops - a reflection of how Breath is associated with freedom and choice. This is the optimistic option.

Another thing the narrative grapples with is the realness vs. fakeness of magic. I don't think it's hard to argue that between LE's "evil wizard" status and Godtier!Calliope's wand-induced black hole that the arrow falls firmly in the realm of magic being undeniably real. This is the optimistic option (and yet another narrative element that Eridan is extremely relevant to).

Moreover, even post-Retcon, there are elements that are kept that soften the tragedy already present in the story - for example, the concept of the Ultimate Self, and the implication that all surviving characters will eventually achieve it, takes the edge off all their doomed and dead counterparts, who won't actually be relegated to double death in the dream bubbles, since in a way, they'll live on through their alpha counterparts. It turns those sacrifices from bitter to bittersweet, and serves as a counterpoint to common takes like John being sad that he doesn't know the version of his friends that exist post-Retcon. The inclusion of it in the post-Retcon story, even with its botched delivery, says to me that Homestuck is still intended to be optimistic at its core, even with the extreme Giving Up that Hussie did.

And let's not forget how Calliope gets to come back to life, no strings attached, and that her stated purpose is only to live. Up to the end, the tone is that of HOPE, and I think there's no mistake that HOPE is supposed to be what defeats LE.

As I said in replies on that post, as an artist, I just can't imagine spending literal years, and literally a million words and thousands of images, writing something that's so thematically and tonally consistent, only to hard swerve right at the end, without extenuating circumstances.

And the thing is, there WERE extenuating circumstances, and they're fairly well-documented.

The kickstarter got funded, and while the story is muddled, we know the production of the game was extremely troubled, and Hussie was having difficulty being a project lead for that while also grappling with everything else. Everything else being, of course, an ever-increasing number of irons in the fire - more third-party artists he had to commission and manage, more merchandise he had to be on top of, bigger updates to sate the demands of the fanbase.

Which, speaking of, was infamously one of the most awful and toxic fanbases to ever exist, and one that Hussie has deliberately attempted to distance himself from since. I can't imagine the kind of daily abuse, harassment, callouts, and worse that Hussie had to endure as Homestuck's creator during the fandom's peak years. I don't blame him at all for turning against them.

Therefore, given the way the tone and themes hard swerve, the way several characters get bent entirely out of shape (you're telling me Karkat had several means before him of bringing his dead friends back and WOULDN'T SAY ANYTHING???), the way several plot threads are simply left dangling in the air, and the way some characters reach really weird and unpleasant conclusions (davepeta, gcatavrosprite), I think it's actually LESS reasonable to assume that the ending we got was the original plan. Hussie saw that to do the ending he wanted to do back in act 4, he'd need to write for a year, maybe two years more, and then looked at his mounting stress and pressure, and looked at the fanbase he'd come to hate, and just went "nope." And I can't even really blame him for it, lol. In his position I'd probably do the same.

Also, please don't mistake "the deaths are undone" for "the deaths will not have mattered" - I think there's a reason that the game over timeline characters still exist post-Retcon. Their arcs don't end with their deaths, and their failures are weights on them that must be narratively resolved - I believe that they go on to be the ones to defeat LE, although I have much less evidence to support this. It just makes narrative sense to me - the post-retcon team focuses down the Felt, various Jack Noirs, and the Condesce - the latter of which is their final boss, as the ultimate representation of the shitty society they're doing away with on their path to creating a new one.

Meanwhile, the dead and "irrelevant" versions of the characters, the ones who grappled with and were harmed the most by what LE represents - immaturity, selfishness, and cruelty - go on to band together after death, and defeat him in the bubbles, a culmination of their vengeance for the havoc he wreaked. And with him being destroyed in the bubbles by the dead and irrelevant, symbolically, he will be rendered nothing more than a bad dream for the waking, relevant, and alive.

Thus Gamzee is still an antagonist, although it becomes (Gamzee) and (Equius) who go on to form LE. Those deaths and those failures still matter, they still happen, they still have narrative weight. Even without the Game Over versions of the characters still existing and still being important, the decision to welcome antagonists like Gamzee and Eridan back into the fold is rendered more complex and more significant BECAUSE we've seen how badly they can go.

The speech originally given by post-Retcon Vriska to (Vriska) is also, to me, a weird artifact of this hypothetical original ending - as it exists within the actual comic, it's said by the wrong person to the wrong person - Vriska with her character development reset to a (Vriska) who's had her characterization destroyed in order to make the first Vriska seem more right. I think originally, it would've come from (Karkat) to Meenah, the latter of which being the one whose idea it was to fuck off with the treasure, and who caused the Beforus team's worst problems, and who has a track record of fucking off whenever she's tasked with taking responsibility. Thus, it would serve as a conclusion to Meenah and Karkat's arc, as well as Game Over Sadkat's arc specifically, would convince Vriska to go with him, and would give Meenah some narrative commeuppance, which would kickstart some sort of Beforan troll feelings jam that would rally them together to actually be useful for once in their lives/afterlives and contribute to the LE fight.

Again, if you PREFER the sad ending, I can't stop you, but the reason I'm going in on there being an "original ending" that isn't sad is because the sad ending doesn't make narrative sense. Why is the ultimate self speech coming from a combination of two characters that barely spoke? Why is it triumphant that Meenah and character-development-reset Vriska get to be the big goods in the fight with LE? Why do multiple prophecies suddenly get dropped right at the end when all other prophecies DO come true? Why does Karkat spend so long being sad his friends are dead, and also why is he deliberately set up as the Friends Troll (blood = bonds), and then suddenly not care that multiple methods exist for bringing back his friends? Why bother softening the blow of all the dead/irrelevant alternate selves if they're intended to be fully tragic? Why introduce a mechanic that would let them save whoever they want consequence-free and then not use it to do that? Why does Roxy love wizards so much and then not get to meet the wizard boy? Why is the entire rest of Homestuck so carefully crafted, so narratively satisfying, so thematically and tonally consistent, and then all of it goes to shit right at the end?

So yeah lol this is the SHORT version lol this isnt even the LONG version of this essay

[pherelesytsia]

Thomas Shelby Masterlist

Mr Loverman Thomas receives a call and imagines the worst.

Forgotten DinnerSunday dinner was always important to Y/N, but the night ends differently after Thomas arrives over five hours too late.(+18) Whisper of a loving HeartThomas Shelby was always drawn to Y/N, but never found the courage to invite her to dinner but when a man dances with her he can no longer stay in the background.

Safe and SoundThomas Shelby never found time to spend a day with his wife and daughter, but one day he stays home.

Bloodbath At his daughter’s 18th birthday Thomas is not enjoying the attention his daughter is receiving from the male guests but his wife can calm him down before the feast can end in a bloodbath. Burn little witchThomas Shelby, a knight on a hunt for a witch finds his horse under the care of a woman living in the cottage instead of a wicked creature and slowly falls in love with her.

PART ONE

Fool of a Man After a fight, Thomas comes home.(+18)

Feast for Eyes Thomas comes after a long day home.(+18)

Love me tender, Y/N´s parents find out their daughter is dating Thomas Shelby.

Ragging Oceans Thomas finds his girlfriend crying by the cliffs.

Lovelier than a Dream Lazy mornings are not common in the Shelby household, but one spring morning, Thomas cannot find the motivation to get dressed.

How did you know? Y/N always had special abilities, saw the future of her family but one day after John nearly faced death, Thomas demands answers.

Stars were falling, Thomas and Y/N are stargazing and lose themselves in the beauty of the night.

Bleeding Heart Y/N takes care of Thomas after he was shot.

Forbidden Fruit Alfie Solomons finds out his younger sister is dating Thomas Shelby and forbids her to see him ever again, but his words cannot scare her.

Secret Girlfriend, Thomas Shelby, a man of many secrets, can no longer keep one of his most guarded secrets hidden after his girlfriend is in danger.

In the Shadow of Somme Thomas believes his sister is a blessed woman, never faced war nor the destruction of France, but one day they find out what their sister was up to in 1916.

Duties of a father, Thomas has not only neglected his duties as a husband but also as a father.

Duties of a Husband Thomas makes his wife know how deeply he loves and needs her.

Blinders Business As Thomas Shelby hears of a thriving business in town, he arranges a meeting with the head of the company.

I'll never be her, Finding out Thomas has been secretly seeing Grace, Y/N leaves with Charlie.

I have always loved you,Y/N finds out Thomas is warming another woman's bed and suddenly she finds herself in John's arms.

Shadows of the Untold Thomas discovers the dark past of his wife.

May I have this dance? Thomas had never found the bravery to ask Y/N to a dance, let alone talk to her, but when he notices her in the embrace of a man and hears about the men desiring to marry her, he cannot hold back.

How could you…. A rumour turned into truth, and the brothers are incapable of forgiving the youngest among them.

Dance through the Rain The romantic anniversary was planned to the smallest detail, but Thomas failed to include a rainstorm.

The Sailors Chant When Y/N's date doesn't show up, she sets off on her own through the dark streets of Birmingham.

Sealed Promise A secret, guarded like the royal crown, uncovered by Sherlock Holmes, comes to light.

The Ring In hope of getting her hand in marriage, men of high status are knocking on the door, but the man Y/N hopes to see is not among them.

The Barn Thomas and his girlfriend meet in secret, but the weather gets in the way.

Lurking in the Shadows As Halloween draws near, Charlie's mother worries that even Thomas will fear the costume of his son.

Coming Home for Christmas Returning home late after a rough day, Thomas arrives in an empty living room and not even the dog greets him.

(Un)lonely on Christmas Thomas visits Garrisons and meets the new barmaid.

Love me series

As Thomas Shelby hears Y/N´s parents are searching for a suitable husband for their child Y/N faces a loveless marriage she hoped to never encounter, but slowly the cold walls crumble as the scent of spring is dancing over the meadows.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

Lost series

Thomas Shelby, a single father, lost his son at the fair and finds him in the arms of an unknown woman and is enchanted by her.

Part One Part Two Part Three

Who did this to you...?

Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend's house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7