#SHOUTOUT TO THIS MAN FOR KILLING HIS PARTS (and me) LETS GO

[woe-is-tuli]

ATEEZ(에이티즈) - 'IT's You (여상, 산, 우영): YeoSang

[replaytech]

just let me help you | tech x reader

warnings: small injury

(shoutout to my sister for this fic idea☝🏻)

-

“Kriff”, was not the first irritated word to leave techs mouth.

He had been working on fixing a part of the marauders control panel for the last 20 minutes.

All of his efforts, however, are to no avail.

A pair of footsteps walks up behind him and sighs, “Tech, I’m calling in someone from the hangar”, hunter says.

Tech just adjusts his goggles and continues tinkering with the controls, “That is unnecessary, I can fix it.”

Hunter knows full well that tech is capable of fixing just about anything, but they were on a serious time crunch to get off of this planet.

-

You’re making some minor adjustments to one of your astromecs when a tall, dark haired man with a face tattoo walks up to you.

“Are you a mechanic?”

The hand that’s holding a wrench stills as you look down at your dusty coveralls and back at him with a “What does it look like?” look.

He laughs lightly, “Were kind of in a hurry and could use some help, we can’t pay much, but it would be really appreciated.”

You stand up, dust off your legs and push your glasses farther up your nose, “Payment isn’t needed, lead the way.”

-

You walk into the cockpit of their ship and see a man looking very frustratedly at some loose wires, “I am getting there, hunter.”

“I’ve never seen an omicron class attack shuttle with these modifications before.”

He stops what he’s doing immediately and turns around, “Pardon me, I thought you were my brother.”

The way he’s looking at you makes your face turn slightly pink, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in or anything.”

He adjusts his goggles, “Who are you, exactly?”

You fiddle with your eyewear as well and tell him your name, “I’m a mechanic here at the hangar, your brother sent me.”

He looks at you silently for a second before swallowing and facing away from you, “I am Tech. However, I can manage this, you may go back to your duties around the hangar.”

You cross your arms and tilt your head, “Your brother said that you’ve been working on it for a while, can I just take a look?”

He glances at you sideways and moves over slightly, “I suppose a second opinion wouldn’t be a negative thing.”

You smile softly and make your way over to the control panel, looking at every single detail and focusing on each piece.

Tech, of course, notices how entranced you seem to be by the technology of the ship and can’t help but stare at you.

The way your glasses fall down your nose slightly, the way your eyebrows slightly furrow, the way you bite your bottom lip, he takes note of it all. Your focus might be on the controls, but techs focus is all on you.

Tech blindly reaches for some random wires, seeing how his gaze can’t be torn away from your face, and you notice, “Wait, don’t put those toget-“, your voice cuts off.

You warn him a little too late, and he brings a wire down onto another and shocks his fingers.

He lets out a startled sound and backs away, “Are you alright?”

He looks at you and the way that you’re worriedly checking his hand, “I, I think I will manage.”

You look up at him with a quirked brow, “It would kill you to ask for help, wouldn’t it?”

You swear he’s slightly blushing, “I suppose it wouldn’t cause extensive damage to my health.”

A grin breaks out onto your face as you both sit in chairs opposite from each other. You pull out a small med kit from your satchel.

You hold his hand and slowly peel off his glove. You start to feel almost nervous. All you’re doing is taking off his glove but it feels so… close.

You gently inspect his fingers, “It’s not too bad, you just got a first degree burn on your pointer finger and thumb.”

You look up to see him looking at you silently with his lips parted, but after a second or two, he clears his throat, “That’s the conclusion I came to as well.”

As you wrap his fingers in bacta patches and dry wraps, you speak up, “So, are you and your brothers soldiers?”, you gesture to his armor.

“My brothers and I are enhanced clones from kamino. I suppose we are technically still soldiers, just for a different cause.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Enhanced? I’ve heard of clones because of the war, but I never knew there were enhanced ones.”

Tech adjusts his goggles, “Yes, each of my brothers has an enhanced trait. Hunter can track and sense any electromagnetic frequency on the planet, crosshairs marksmanship is unlike any you will ever see, wrecker has the strength of approximately 100 regular clones and I have what would be referred to as a brilliant mind.”

You finish bandaging his fingers but his hand stays loosely on top of yours, “I find that men with the highest intelligence quotients tend to be the most engaging and endearing.”

He looks a little flushed and maybe even taken aback, but recovers quickly, “That is one way to characterize those with a mind similar to mine.”

You look at him for a few seconds before awkwardly clearing your throat, “Well, we should probably get back to fixing up your ship. Try not to connect two opposing wires this time around.”

You once again feel nervous around the brilliant clone. The way he looks at you, it is almost as if he is seeing the beautiful blue lakes of Naboo for the first time.

He stands next to you as you resume inspecting the controls, “Technically, it was not my fault.”

You snort, “Is that so?”

“Yes. I am not used to being in the company of someone who has a mind like mine, it is very distracting. The amount of beauty you have in your face alone does not help my situation. Neither does the fact that every other part of you is equally radiant and stunning.”

You nearly choke. Tech thought you were beautiful?

Somehow, your face becomes more blushed, “I don’t know about my beauty being as much as you say”, you awkwardly laugh.

Tech glances over at you, “Those who do not acknowledge your beauty simply do not have the brain capacity to realize how exquisite you really are.”

You bite your lip to hide your smile, “You’re one to talk. I blush everytime you look me in the eye.”

He’s about to say something else but he catches the look of confusion on your face, “Is everything alright?”

You point to a switch below the controls, “Your power switch is turned off. Tech, there’s nothing wrong with your controls”, you can’t help but laugh.

You turn the switch on and the panel comes to life, “I did not realize that somebody turned off the switch.”

“You’re welcome.”

The two of you turn around to see a tall man with a tattoo over his eye and a toothpick in his mouth, one of his brothers, probably.

He points his toothpick at tech, “I had to get her here somehow. You’re welcome”, he walks away.

You grin and cross your arms, “So your ship was fine this whole time?”

“That is correct, but I was not aware of that.”

“And why would your brothers bring me here?”

“Perhaps they noticed my gaze linger on you for longer than usual when we first arrived.”

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box Series— Trevor Zegras Edition (Two)

23-24 Season Masterlist

previous: one

next: three

a/n so i def posted this then deleted it bc i hated it bc i wrote it in the 1-3am range… and now i’m writing it again in that range… fingers crossed!

i’m sorry this is short!

OCTOBER 15, 2023

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, jamie.drysdale, and 16,611 others

yourusername welcome back to my post game penalty box update show, céline dion fans and non-céline dion fans! tonight was the ducks home opener and it was a doozy!

first i want to address that my lil quackies have now won their home opener 8 years in a row and are now 20-9-1 in their 30 year history for home openers! and if you’re like me and ✨love✨ stats, then you’ll be thrilled to learn that mr. frank “the tank” vatrano is the FIRST DUCK EVER TO SCORE A HAT TRICK IN THE HOME OPENER! shoutout to mason, who passed frankie the puck so that he could score the empty netter for the hatty, and made me cry at how sweet he was! (yes, they got good job forehead kisses because i love them soooo much!)

now, on to the fun stuff that you’re all here for! my future husband and baby daddy got his first penalty tonight, and oooo lordy, he looked fine! seriously, like, you think you all were freaking out about how hot he was in the box? imagine how i feel! he’s coming home to me!

his penalty was for “holding the stick” against aho (queue the boos) he did not agree with the penalty and made sure to scoff at the refs so that they knew they made a ridiculous call (i legally have to be on his side)

but get this— the penalty was called 11 seconds into z’s shift, it was the 6th official power play for the canes! we love! (we don’t love that it resulted in a c*nes goal though)

what was my favorite part of the game, you ask? it was the scrum, of course! my mans tried his best in holding back pesce, but he really just clung onto him as he got dragged around the scrum because he… is pocket sized compared to pesce. the 9th photo is of z clinging onto him from behind. i imagine pesce’s inner monologue was like “if the child will not move off me, then i shall move with the child. i am undeterred by the diminutive boy.”

ANYHOOZLE, i’m so proud of my boys! especially jamie baby, who now has back to back assists! this is your reputation era, jd! i love you endlessly <3

and to my z-baby, i’m perpetually proud of you and i’m sure you’ll do something productive soon! i love you, always💜 (and you look hot as fuck in purple) (you should buy more purple)

(p.s. did you all really think i’d only post one pic of my mans in the box when he looked that hot in it tonight? guess again! post two coming soon!)

tagged trevorzegras

view all 277 comments

trevorzegras i can’t tell if i was attacked or loved more in the post but i love you, forever, my sweet girl! (i’ll buy more purple) (i’m not pocket sized! or diminutive! at all! that’s quinn!)

yourusername i’d like to think i had an even balance of love and bullying<3 (you are compared to a 6’4 man!) (quintin’s gonna kill you and i’m going to have to let him)

trevorzegras he wouldn’t dare kill his future brother-in-law! and i’m going to be a the dad to his nieces/newphews/both!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras count your days, zegras

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes THEN YOUR SISTER WON’T HAVE A FATHER FOR HER KIDS!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras she has options

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes no? she doesn’t?

_quinnhughes @/jamie.drysdale would you be the dad to sissy’s kids if i kill trevor?

jamie.drysdale @_quinnhughes of course

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras see? options!

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale aw, jamie baby! i’m gonna cry!

trevorzegras @/yourusername HE IS NOT GOING TO BE THE DAD TO OUR TWINS

yourusername @/trevorzegras FINE

user76 you’re so real for knowing all of us were acting whoreish over him in the box

yourusername this house is pro whore!

user14 “mwah!” -z in the 5th pic

jamie.drysdale i love YOU endlessly! so happy to have my own professional cheerleader back this year

yourusername wym “back”??? i never stopped being your cheerleader! i’m offended at best

colecaufield @/yourusername i would never do that to you

jamie.drysdale @/colecaufield you’re just mad that quinn asked me to be the dad to the twins

trevorzegras @/colecaufield @.jamie.drysdale I’M THE DAD! I’M THE FATHER! I’M THE BABY DADDY!

yourusername @/trevorzegras wow… jealous much?

colecaufield @/trevorzegras it’s hypothetical! if quinn kills you, then it should be me! i’m best friend number two!

jamie.drysdale @/colecaufield but she wouldn’t have to move if it’s me!

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk congrats! if quinn kills trevor, you get to raise the twins with me as their dad!

matthew_tkachuk @/yourusername do you want your own room? or just the nursery and you can sleep with me?

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk we can share the bed!

trevorzegras @/yourusername @.matthew_tkachuk NO

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername NO FAIR

colecaufield @/yourusername RUDE!

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk 10 minutes ago, i lost my dear fiancé, trevor

trevorzegras @/yourusername I’M NOT ACTUALLY DEAD

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk sometimes i can still hear his voice

matthew_tkachuk @/yourusername i’m sorry for your loss

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk i’m not

trevorzegras @/yourusername divorce.

yourusername @/trevorzegras we can’t get a divorce if i’m a widow

trevorzegras @/yourusername ghost divorce.

user12 HE’S SO CUTE AHH

colecaufield @/trevorzegras wrong 22, bitch

trevorzegras @/colecaufield all’s fair in love and war

yourusername @/trevorzegras i don’t think you used that correctly

colecaufield @/trevorzegras so you admit to cheating?!

trevorzegras @/colecaufield no? there was a war i had to stop, and i love you! i didn’t “cheat”

yourusername @/trevorzegras you definitely didn’t use that correctly

user32 this game was everything to me

user4 Z’S HAIR IN THE 8THE PIC🥵😭

jackhughes @/trevorzegras i can’t believe the father of my future nieces/nephews/both is a criminal…

trevorzegras @/jackhughes you’re one to talk!

jackhughes @/trevorzegras that’s not the point!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras @/jackhughes @.lhughes_06 i’m the only one of us that’s not a criminal! none of you should get to see the babies!

yourusername @_quinnhughes i love you so much but trevor is screaming and *i’m* about to kill you

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes you pissed off the princess

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes has she ever threatened your death?

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras i don’t think so

jackhughes @_quinnhughes you REALLY pissed off the princess

user47 “i legally have to be on his side” that’s true love baby!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras the war begins

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes you're at 2 games?

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras 2 more than you

yourusername war! war! war! war!

_alexturcotte war! war! war! war!

yourusername @_alexturcotte you? you get me

_quinnhughes @_alexturcotte @/yourusername heathens

yourusername @_quinnhughes you quite literally started this war

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes heathen

user62 Z IS SO CUTE AHH

_alexturcotte céline dion? are you 60?

yourusername i love her

trevorzegras @_alexturcotte what can i say? i love me an older woman

yourusername @/trevorzegras if you have a mommy kink, just say so

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername WHY

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale i just want to make my mans happy! i love him!

trevorzegras @/yourusername forever?

yourusername @/trevorzegras always💜

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, jackhughes, and 11,341 others

yourusername soooo..... i couldn't just pick 8 pictures... and then i couldn't just pick 17 pictures... so here's 26 more pictures for a grand total of 34 (not including the penalty count)!

enjoy pictures of:

-z looking unreasonably hot in the penalty box

-z looking unreasonably hot in his plum carpet fit

-his many faces during games

-z attacking aho (#JusticeForJack)

-the scrum turn into a conga line

-jamie baby in his plum carpet fit (he also looks very good! both my boys were in blue <3)

-jamie baby's faces during the game

-jamie baby playing volleyball with the puck

with love,

sissy🤍

tagged trevorzegras and jamie.drysdale

jamie.drysdale NO

_quinnhughes @/jamie.drysdale welcome to the club! i’m so sorry

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale it could be worse

yourusername no one is safe🫶 ever💜

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername i thought you loved me

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale this is how i show love

jackhughes @/jamie.drysdale you should've known this was coming

jamie.drysdale @/jackhughes i thought i’d be safe since i didn't get a penalty

colecaufield @/jamie.drysdale good thing you don't get paid for thinking

user3 I'M LOSING MY MIND AT THE CONGA LINE

user46 oh i’m drooling

trevorzegras not all of these pictures are bad ones of me and i’m taking that as a win! i love you, forever💜

yourusername i know! aren't i the sweetest? (i love you, always)

trevorzegras i don't call you my sweet girl for nothing!

jackhughes @/yourusername he's lying to you

yourusername @/jackhughes die.

trevorzegras soooo sweet💜

lhughes_06 @/jamie.drysdale just wait til you get your own post

jamie.drysdale @/lhughes_06 you and jack didn't get one and you two got penalties!

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale i was mad at them at the time!

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername be mad at me

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale never.

yourusername @/lhughes_06 p.s. congratulations on losing your nhl penalty virginity!

lhughes_06 @/yourusername why are you like this?

yourusername @/lhughes_06 to make your life more interesting

lhughes_06 @/yourusername my life is interesting!

yourusername @/lhughes_06 you're welcome!

[thatsdemko]

like he would- l.stroll

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Lance stroll x fem!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + long(I’m sorry for that) + teasing + begging + fingering( f receiving) + lighthearted jokes

a/n: I know the image is of toronto but this fic is based in Montreal. shoutout @oconso for letting me borrow your lance knowledge for parts of this fic! enjoy everyone☺️🫶

《 the following content has ideas that are not intended for minors. 》

it was supposed to be lights out and away we go, but instead you’re stuck in the pitch black with nothing but candles and cellphone flashlights during a power outage playing all sorts of games with the drivers.

lando sits to your left, Carlos on your right, Charles and Pierre sit across from you with Lance. the man who had somehow managed to snag a few drivers attention when he started asking you and Fernando bizarre questions out of pure boredom.

that’s how this game of never have I ever, truth or dare, fuck,marry, kill, and many others you couldn’t remember now began. it all began with Lance asking if Fernando would rather be a sugar daddy or a sugary baby. the answer surprised you both.

power outages like this don’t often happen in the middle of free practice. it was an odd event that the so called pinnacle of sports had something like this happen that lasted for over two hours thus far. boredom was hitting everyone, and that was how you all seemed to be gathered around in a corner of the Aston Martin garage.

“okay, so I think it’s Pierre’s turn to ask a question.” Carlos keeps track, finger pointing at the Frenchman who taps his chin scooping out his next victim.

“y/n! you’ve been awfully silent, Cherie.” his grin turns into a smirk as he adjusts his seated position on the ground more towards you. you can only see the glow of his beautiful blue eyes in the candles and lit up cell phone flashes, but he’s got a deviled look that makes your stomach twist in knots.

“who would you fuck, marry, and kill: me, Charles, or Lance.” he pulls his knees tight into his chest, chin resting against the top his kneecap, “pick wisely!”

you laugh nervously, not because of the question— god no it was so easy. you knew exactly who you’d pick in a heartbeat to marry, fuck, or kill. it was admitting it to all three drivers that became the hard part.

“well for starters, Charles I’m so sorry.” you turn to the Ferrari driver, who nods in understanding, “it’s not you, it’s me.” you say, it’s somewhat sarcastic and there’s some truth to it. you could never see yourself marrying Charles, he was far beyond your league and your personalities were a bit different. he was someone you’d maybe kiss, but never go any further.

“Pierre,” you mock his previous state, finger resting against your chin, “I’ll marry you.” you point to him shaking your finger up and down, “I think you’d treat me right.”

“and I wouldn’t?” Lance interrupts, hand resting to where his heart sits, he plays hurt that gets a laugh out of everyone in the circle, “I thought we had something?”

if you had it your way, you’d fuck and marry Lance, but you couldn’t admit that to them. you couldn’t admit that the man who sits directly across from you on the floor, criss-cross applesauce, was the guy you’d let fuck you until a headboard fell off, and then marry you the next day.

you and Lance had nothing serious. the occasional flirt, a text message here and there, but it never left the first stage. it never got any more serious than that, and despite the many hints at wanting the next level, like a date or something, he never got the very obvious message.

“we do—“

“but only fuckable?” he cuts you off, and you can tell he genuinely is upset. it was his idea of the silly little game. it was his idea to start asking fuck, marry, kill. but it was he who couldn’t stand the results.

“you’re not just fuckable, Lance.” you admit, lucky that the light isn’t back on for everyone to see your rosy red cheeks. the air around you was beginning to feel warm despite the cool temperatures of Canada, you were throwing off your teal green Aston Martin jacket to cool off from the heat of embarrassment.

“it’s a game, man, she wouldn’t actually kill me.” Charles reminds him with a smile and a pat on the back that seems to calm him, “I’m sure if Pierre said your name twice she’d pick you for marriage and sex.”

you’re not sure why he’s riled up, but luckily enough the emotions slip him and he’s back to his giggly self answering the questions and dodging the dares.

“you should really apologize to Lance.” Carlos collides his shoulder with yours. his head nods in the direction of the Canadian across from you who lucky enough is engulfed in a chat with Fernando.

he can feel your eyes on you. it makes his skin crawl, his heart jump out of its cavity. he wonders what you’re talking about. he wonders if it has anything to do with him or if you just have a staring problem. he admits that being overly dramatic about the choice was wrong, but it still stung. the very idea of you even marrying someone that wasn’t him burned a hole in his heart.

he wasn’t going to just be fuckable.

—

“hey,” you enter his motorhome, to-go bowls of salad and soup rest in your arms as you carefully move up the steps, “brought some food for us.” you smile setting it all on the table and he joins you.

“you know, if you were my girlfriend, I’d kiss you for this gesture.” he unwraps the steaming hot container of chicken noodle soup, you find it cute that he warms his hands up over the steam.

“yeah?” you ask back, beginning to dig into the hot soup, “if I was your wife I’d slap you for that comment.”

he shakes his head blowing at the hot contents on his plastic spoon. you watch him carefully slurp the broth that burns his tongue and he spits it right back out, “too hot.” he quickly sips his water bottle before his eyes fall on you.

“do you need a kiss to feel better?” you fake a pout pretending to care that he burnt his tongue. he plays along nodding, “take care of me, y/n.” he frowns.

you move from your seat at the table, about to press your lips to his cheek when he turns his head, hands cupping your face, his lips land on yours. it shocks you for a moment, how smooth the move was. he’s pulling you down into his lap, each of the nerves in his fingers itch to remove your sweatshirt.

“Lance,” you break away from the kiss, resting your hand atop of your chest to compose yourself. the past thirty seconds had been much of a whirlwind. looking down at him, he’s out of breath too, chest visibly rising and falling, “we can’t do this on the bench.” you say removing your legs from around his body allowing him to sit up.

your words hardly have a second to register in the air, he’s already standing up once again cupping your face with his hand, lips hovering dangerously over yours, “so the bedroom then?” he asks, thumb pad swiping your cheek while his other hand pushes hair off your shoulder.

the bedroom in the motorhome was cramped and small. it was a full size bed with barely any wiggle room for movement in the room, it’s not the ideal place, but where else could you go? he had to be on the track in an hour, there was enough time to kill in that tiny hot space.

you just follow him in the room and watch him quickly discard his teal green shirt that clung to him. you watched his hands pull the back of the neck over his head to reveal the tattoo on his rib cage. your eyes scan his body up and down, tongue licking your bottom lip like you were ready to devour him.

“don’t be shy, we’re friends here.” he climbs onto the bed, lips connecting with yours, he carefully dips you down onto the mattress, his hands ride up the back of your shirt, and swiftly unhooks your bra, “I want to see you too.” he nibbles on the bottom of your lip, before pulling away allowing you to remove your shirt and bra.

his imagination was short of everything that’s underneath your clothes. he’d pictured every curve of your body, but when you finally revealed it to him it was somehow much different. your breasts were his fascination, seeing how beautiful they were, he couldn’t help but rest a hand on one of them.

“you’re beautiful.” he whispers, half naked body colliding with yours. his skin was warm, but his hands were cold, carefully you felt them ghosting your skin all the way down towards your naval.

you were tired of the kissing, the sucking on each others skin, you needed him in you. you needed to feel him. all of him.

“fuck me, Lance.” you pull away, hand pressing over his vocal cord you say it one more time, “fuck me.” you release your hand from his throat and watch him remove his joggers and boxers before rejoining you in bed.

his pointer finger trails down your stomach, stopping just below your jeans, “you sure?” he asks, his finger moves to rest atop the cool metal button holding everything together.

all you can do is nod, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. his finger swiftly undoes the button and zipper, the jeans come off your body in one quick motion leaving you in just your wet panties.

he licks his lips before carefully pulling the material down your legs, your pussy throbs when his fingers touched you down there, you were impatient with how slow he was moving.

he carefully tosses your panties to the side, hand carefully spreads your legs apart for himself, he props himself up with his hands on both sides of you, his chain hovers over your lips, “what did you want from me again?” he asks, smirk tugging at his lips, you quickly smash yours against his to wipe it off.

“fuck me, stroll.” you repeat, and his body goes down on you, tip barely nudging your entrance you’re met with a gasp when you feel him in your center. the strokes are even, and slow, his hips grind against yours at a steady pace.

his chain is mesmerizing as it moves up and down across your face, you reach up with your teeth, pulling on it to bite from screaming. you can feel yourself clench around him, little moans and grunts escape both your lips, you feel him go further in your core, it’s painful but you’re greeted with an inkling of pleasure that makes your legs shake as they wrap around his torso.

“I haven’t even gotten to the good parts, baby.” he grunts looking down at you, your eyes are welling with tears, lips sucking the cool silver chain around his neck, he couldn’t think of a more beautiful sight to see.

you let go of the chain, throwing your head back against the pillow beneath you, he’s got one hand against your hip, the other holding him up above you when he bulldozes into your clit. the bundle of nerves send a shockwave through your body, his name rolls off your tongue that echoes back against the tiny four walls of the bedroom. he does it once again, this time his tip barely touches but it’s enough to make you whine.

“Lance,” you breathe out, watching his eyes focus on you, “touch me.” you beg, pulling on his chain and he dips his head down for your lips to touch his, “I’ve been so good.”

“have you?” he asks, quickly pulling out earning a breathy whine from you as your fingers dig into the skin of his shoulder blades, “do you want me to get Pierre? your husband? maybe he can treat you right?”

you shake your head, “no, no you treat me right.” you say, shaky hands cupping his cheeks, “you’re all I need.” you whisper, “but why don’t you touch me like my husband would? or should I call Pierre for that?” your smirk is a dare that he can’t turn down. he pulls away from your body for a moment, index and middle finger delicately wipe across your wet folds.

“Lance,” his name rolls off your tongue long and whiny, you’re squirming under his touch, “again.” you beg, legs spreading further apart, so he see the moisture between your inner thighs.

you’re more than just wet for him, you’re glistening in thick cum already. he can’t help the way it makes him feel, he takes his index finger and swipes some of it up for a taste, “you taste good.” he whispers before using the same index finger inserting it inside of you just like you asked.

your body tenses at the feeling of him. your hips buckle as you push them upward for him, “would he fuck you like this?” Lance asks, his fingers bump your clit for a brief second, “answer me, darling, could he fuck you like this?”

you shake your head, “no, he wouldn’t.” you reply feeling him touch you once more, legs convoluting your body releases the cum you can’t hold back anymore.

he’s smiling looking down at you before pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead, “good girl. now come on, mrs.stroll we’ve got to get clean up before we head to the track.”

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 6

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader, 6.2k words

Warnings: Violence, Cursing

A/N: GUYS I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. But it is finally here. After this we only have one more chapter, so y'all I'm just so emotional. Thank you all for your patience and all the love you have shared. I'm so grateful. Special shoutout to @hoodeddreams13 for letting me chat them up to discuss this chapter because I was STRESSED. Anyway, sending all my love to you guys. Enjoy! - Mo

Alfie had convinced himself that he was doomed to hell for all of his evil deeds in life. The lying. The bloodshed. The rage. But perhaps he had done something good in this life. Maybe God finally took pity on Alfie Solomons. Perhaps the Angel Gabriel had put in a good word for him. He must have, because there was no other reason that he got to have the blessing of you nestled in his lap, face buried in his neck, small hand tangled in his unruly beard. He had dreamed of this forever, and now it was finally true. He never thought that he would get to have this. Warmth. Love. Safety. "Alfie? Darling where is your mind at?"

He felt your lips at his neck, and sighed, "Nowhere sweet. Just enjoying your company."

"Hmm… Alfie, I wish every moment could be just like this. I don't want to be anywhere else but here in your arms."

He shifted beneath you, to bring your face to his. Nose to nose, breathing in one breath. "My sweet girl, whatever you wish, you shall have yeah? You can stay here, right next to me. And we'll never leave this spot."

"We'll grow old here in your chair. I on your lap. Till the ages go by. And the vines and trees grow around us. And all of Camden will fall away and here we will be together."

"Exactly right my pet. Exactly right."

As if the Somme had suddenly emerged, Satan's army came hurtling through Alfie's door, with Sabini at the helm. The gun fire lit up the room, and all Alfie could hear was your screams of agony. In his arms you were no longer there. The silken white dressing gown he had just been caressing was stained crimson, and the color in your face had turned to ash. Alfie, who has never been lost for words, who has always had something on the tip of his tongue, had nothing come from his mouth but horrified screams. He kept shaking your shoulders, hoping to God that you would wake up, but your limp limbs gave nothing to life. He screamed and screamed your name, until his lungs gave way.

In a sudden jerk, Alfie sat up in his freezing room, his bare chest covered in sweat. The room was bathed in a light blue from the bright moon outside his window. He was alone, save Cyril on the floor by his bed. The house was quiet, and he was alone. You weren't there. Your lifeless body wasn't there. It wasn't real. None of it was real. The fear that took over his body from the dream shouldn't be so potent anymore. He'd had the same dream every night for the past week. And every night he woke up with his heart coming out of his throat and tears streaming down his face. And every night he would stop by the house you were put up in, patrolling around it with the man stationed there, ensuring that every door was locked.

The plan Tommy and Alfie had concocted had become a bloody mess across the city. Tommy’s men had marked every business and alcove the Sabini’s even had minimal connection to. One by one, they were blown up, burnt to the very foundation. Alfie’s boys had been performing psychological warfare as well. The major Sabini players had been followed by phantoms, never being truly alone, until they were slaughtered in their beds, door frames set ablaze. Everyone in Camden was talking about the horrific curse that befell the Sabinis. How it would soon overtake all of them. The city was simmering, about to burst through and explode. Though the Shelby and Solomons boys were making headway, Alfie couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop.

This war was killing him. The business was killing him. He felt it. And you were seeing it. He was drinking more. Eating less. Even when you tried to touch his cheek, to remind him of the moment you two shared and the fact that you were still here and alive, he huffed and moved away from your caress. Your touch brought back the visions of his nightmares and the smoldering tailor shop. It was killing him. It was killing you.

Alfie had created a moat around you, keeping you at a distance and protecting you from him. You had been relegated to simply his secretary. No more. No less. No longer his confidant. No longer his support. No longer the sweetness or the warmth to his day. And while you knew that he was doing this out of fear and out of wanting to protect you, you couldn't help the feelings of rejection from rising in your stomach. You couldn't shake off the feeling that he saw you as a child. As a small ceramic doll that needed to be shielded and held in a box. He didn't look at the sketches you had drawn up for the club. He wasn't even letting you in on the meetings anymore. It was no longer just hurting you. It was now irritating.

On a cold and wet morning, you had enough. This could not stand. You were more than just a desk girl! You were not a girl who needed to be shielded damnit! During an hour you knew there was not going to be any meetings or meddlings, you knew you had your time. You pulled your sweater tighter around you, and pushed in to Alfie's office. "Alfie, we need to talk."

Alfie didn't even look up from his desk and the accounts he was checking, "Not now Ms. Abraham, I am currently checking your math. Tomorrow yeah?"

You pulled the chair out to sit, "No Alfie we need to speak right now."

His broad shoulders slacked down like weathered masts of a ship, and the breath released from his lungs was low and slow. His eyes pressed together as he scrubbed his face. Looking out the window of his office, rubbing his unkempt beard, "What could possibly need discussing now? You already finished all the work I gave you. And there are no more meetings. You can go home."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, the room freezing but your neck hot, "That's exactly it Alfie. You are treating me like a simple secretary."

"You are a secretary love."

"Let me rephrase for you. You are treating me like an idiot. An idiot secretary. You're treating me like a child."

Alfie just stared at you, eyes smoldering like kindling in the stove. He stayed silent, lips tight, you couldn't even tell if he was breathing. If you didn't know him you would think that he was going to fire you. But this was just Alfie. He was thinking. Plotting his next move in this eternal game of chess. Maybe if you were a more ruthless and emotionless player you would have kept you mouth shut. But who cares about winning a chess game when your heart is being chipped at slowly and painfully.

"Alfie, You shut me out. If... if what happened in the jewelery shop was a mistake -"

"It wasn't a mistake."

You paused, staring into his eyes, but he merely nodded at you to continue. "Alright. Well... if it wasn't a mistake. Why are you shutting me out? Why aren't you... letting me be your secretary like I have been all this time. Who does this benefit Alfie? Because you look even worse every day and... well Alfie I feel alone. I feel alone Alfie. I'm scared. I don't know what is going on. I feel lost. And you aren't sharing with me what I need to know. Do you think i can't do this job anymore?"

Alfie stood up, going to the window, looking out at the rain tapping the window and stones below. Though you were screaming inside for a response, you knew this movement. He was thinking, calculating. Trying to figure out the right thing to say to you in this moment. He turned to you, then walked to the door of his office, "Tea?"

It was so odd watching him make his and your tea. Frankly, you didn't even know that he had remembered how you took your tea. It was perfect. Though it was the perfect cup, and the atmosphere should have made a comfortable and relaxing time, your brow was still furrowed, confused as to what Alfie was playing at. He was drinking his own tea, staring at you in between the breaks of his scribbling in the notebook.

After what seems like hours, he finally paused, "Alright treacle. Let's talk business."

"Business?"

"Yes my dove, because what we have here yeah, is quite a bit of a conundrum so to speak."

He took a long drag of his tea before setting it back down and beginning again, "Now...treacle. Like I said yeah? We have a great conundrum. Because you... my viper... have performed a feat like none other. You yeah, have become two people at the same time."

"What are you talking about?"

“Just listen alright? Now, not only are you a damn good secretary… a very damn good secretary; but you are also someone I have grown rather… fond of.”

"Just fond?"

"Actually a third thing too, a pain in my ass. Damn woman I am trying to talk to you! Shit! Listen! I... may... feel quite fond of you. And in this business.. it is very dangerous to have people who you are fond of. Much more dangerous to have people know about your fondness for others. Now... do you understand what I'm saying treacle?"

Eyes wide, playing with the loose string on your sweater you nod and Alfie grunts in assent. "So you see my dove, I am very very fond of you. In fact it makes me absolutely sick. But... I don't want my fondness for you, to affect your safety. You understand? So that is why I have been... more reclusive."

Alfie watched you nod, your eyes wandering to the corner of the office where some spiders had begun building the foundation of their new home. He watched the quirk of your lips, and waited. You weren't about to agree. "Well... Alfie... what if you weren't the only one who was deeply fond of someone? Hmm? What then?"

"Well that would be a problem right? Because that would be a mutual deep fondness and it would be highly innappropriate."

"Why?"

"Because you are a good girl and I am a bad man."

"I don't care."

"Well you should."

"I don't."

"Well fuck treacle it is entirely out of the fucking question. It doesn't matter who is fond of who it does not matter. What matters right? What really matters, is that I keep you safe, and you get to walk out of this office and find someone your age and who is not damned to the fucking gates of hell!"

"I don't care! I don't fucking care! Because even if you are damned to hell, I have been living in one! You think you keeping me in a box will keep me safe and make me happy? I'm alone! I'm scared! And the one person in this whole fucking world who makes me feel safe is keeping me at a distance!"

Tap

Tap

Tap

The large drops of soft rain trickle down the steamed up window panes like tears from God. And soft blue light of the covered sun illuminates the storm brewing behind Alfie's eyes and the gale force winds sighing from his lungs. These past few weeks you have felt like one of those palm trees you saw in a painting in your childhood books. Swaying in the wind of Alfie's hurricane. You were in the eye of it. You were the eye. The small bit of calm in the center of the madness. But one move to the left or right would put you in the throws of it, threatening destruction and death. Yet it was suffocating in the center. No where to move. All the oxygen being sucked out.

"Alfie... don't keep me away. I can't stand it."

Alfie never took his eyes off you. In his stomach he felt as if rocks had taken up residence. There were so many things he wanted to say. So many things he wanted to do. He loved you. He loved you and he couldn't say anything about it. He couldn't for a million and one reasons and yet it was cutting him up inside to hold in this declaration. He loved you more than anything in this world, and he would absolutely evaporate if anything happened to you. And that is why he couldn't love you. That is why he couldn't say anything. But God did he want to take your tears. To hold you in his chest, to kiss you and tell you that everything was going to be ok. That he would kill every person who even looked at your house or you. That he could do it. That he could change the tides if it meant you were happy. If he could have you... you would never want for anything again.

But that's not what is best for you is it?

With a grunt Alfie stands up, motioning for the door as the clock struck 2, "Come on darling... let's get you home. "

Alfie's heart cracked into two pieces when he saw that first rivulet fall down your cheek. Silent tears that never ended all the way home. He thanked God that you let him walk you up to the door, but was not shocked when you walked in without another word. As Alfie turned back around to head back to the car, your father stopped him, "Mr. Solomons... won't you come in for something warm?"

Alfie had this house furnished and ready for the family in the wake of the fire. But your family brought another level of color and warmth that could never be bought, and it brought back memories of his mother so vividly in his mind. It was warm and rich, and the tea provided by your father was strong and invigorating, much like him. Alfie hadn't noticed how much Esther favored your father. The crease in the brow was carbon copy, and Alfie had to supress a smile on his lips when he made the realization. After the formalities often afforded to business associates, your father spoke, "Mr. Solomons... I will be candid... I know that my daughter works as your secretary. And I know that Eli works in your shops."

Alfie slowly blinked. Nothing could be said, and he had prepped already for this exact scenario millions of times.

Leaning back, letting his hands rest on his stomach, your father continued with a sigh, "And...man to man... I know that my daughter not only loves her job... but also Mr. Solomons... loves you. And I suspect, that you have loved her and do now. Yes?"

This was not something Alfie had prepared for.

"Please do not deny Mr. Solomons. Though you are a gangster you are a man and I have seen many a man fall over their feet for my eldest but you," pointing his finger at Alfie, "you have done more than trip over feet. You love her. Do you deny it?"

"No Mr. Abraham. I don't."

"You want to ask me for her hand in marriage?"

"Fuck me."

"Please Mr. Solomons, Mrs. Abraham will have a fit if she hears that talk. What do you want with my daughter? She will not be made a fool."

Alfie waved his hands in the air, trying to clear out the fog in his mind, "No Mr. Abraham I- yes. Yes Mr. Abraham, I love your daughter very much. More than I should. More than I deserve. If I were a better man I would... I would have married her weeks ago. Proper marriage. Proper ceremony. Or whatever she wanted it doesn't matter to me. She... she's the best moment of my day and the worst is when she leaves. She gives me a headache every time she argues with me but makes me feel better than I have since I was boy right? But I can't love her proper. I can't give her the life she deserves Mr. Abraham because of the nonsense that I bring. Mr. Abraham I'm man enough to say that I don't deserve her. But I'll protect her and your family until a better man comes along."

Your father hummed, looking into Alfie's eyes, as if reading all the other words that Alfie couldn't say. "You know... Mr. Kahn... he told me when I was a young man... that it is often the people who are most deserving of love who think that they don't deserve it. It is the most bravest people who think they are not brave. And the best people who think they could be better. And I wonder... Mr. Solomons... if you have forgotten that love is not a token something to be earned, but rather a gift which is freely given. It's there whether we think we deserve it or not."

Your father put a finger up to Alfie, and tip toed to the cabinet to pull out a clandestine box of cigarettes and match. Handing one to Alfie he says, "Mrs. Abraham has been trying to get me to quit for 30 years and I can't shake it. Indulge with me won't you?"

Alfie greedily sucked in the smoke, as if sharing a secret with a classmate. After a few moments puffing in silence, your father spoke up again, "My daughter is very stubborn as I'm sure you know. My wife and I know she loves you but she cannot say it to herself. She's never been good with admitting a vulnerability like that. But she will. But she won't if you keep pushing her away Mr. Solomons. And I'm sure the last thing you want is for her to be far from you yes?"

Alfie nodded in assent, reeling from this conversation. Your father's large cheeks raised in a smile, nearly concealing his eyes, "Good then. Now Mr. Solomons. regarding your shirts, Eli will be by your house at 8pm with a pack. And I’ve taken the liberty of adding a more secure button and stitch pattern.”

As he turned away he added, “I think you’re a better man than you give yourself credit for Mr. Solomons. Don’t let fear get in the way of life. We’ll all be ok.”

Alfie nodded once again, placing his fingertips on the ornate mezuzah on the doorframe. Feeling a strange peace wash over him as he touched his fingers to his lips. On the drive back to the office and the drive back home, he thinks about what your father said, the way he was welcomed into the home and table. Maybe this could work. Maybe… maybe this war could end. And he could keep you safe. And he could make you happy. Maybe… maybe it will work.

The next day when you came to work, Alfie was already in, talking to Ollie and Ishmael, maps and ledgers all over the place. The fire in the stove by your desk had already been lit and brought to vibrant life. A small bouquet of lavender and baby's breath was at bright attention in a chipped cup on the desk, right next to a blueberry scone and a little note reading 'Can't do this without you' in large and jagged neat script. "Ah treacle! Shalom. Ollie, Ishmael that will be all, get to it yeah? I want proof of death by this evening. Treacle come in please?"

You walked in tentatively, nodding and saying good morning to Ollie and Ishmael as they left. As you take you seat, Alfie is pouring out your tea and putting out the cigar he had been nursing all morning. "Here you go love, drink that down. Listen... I've been doing some thinking... and as much as it stabs me in my cold rotten heart... I do believe you are right, and I'm in the wrong."

Your tea must have been poisoned, because you spluttered at Alfie's admittance, "Alfie? Are you not well? Are you dying?"

Alfie rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small chuckle that spilled out, "No I'm not dying you vile woman! I'm apologizing! Wipe your mouth darling you'll drip on your nice dress. Like that by the way, is that new? Anyway treacle. I have been keeping you away from things. I am fond of you I worry about keeping you safe and away from the mess. I know you ain't a child, but I can't help but feel rather responsible for you. Especially now that your family knows that you're working for me."

"He told you?"

"Yeah, yeah he did treacle. Real shit espionage on your part dear, you will not be given any jobs that require being discreet love I'm sorry, but frankly you cannot lie worth a damn."

Your nostrils flared at the dig at you, but you couldn't help the smile at the corner of your lip due its' truth. Alfie continued on, "This war love, it ain't nothing new to me. And it is necessary for both me and the Shelbys. The Sabinis are right rats and I'm quite sick of their activities. If I am too... rough in my handling of you I am sorry, I do want you in this, and I can't do it without you. But I need you safe. Understand?"

Your eyes bore into his, and he was teetering on the thin line of relief and vomiting due to his new found vulnerability. "So you won't send me home early anymore? We'll go back to business as usual?"

"Yeah... If you'll have me."

You bit your lip, trying to hide your happiness and relief, "I think that is amendable to me."

You shook hands, and shivered slightly at the renewed contact that you had secretly craved for weeks. With a quick release of breath and a final firm squeeze of your hand, Alfie released reluctantly, "Beautiful. Get your little notebook and get comfortable love. We have a lot of business to attend to."

Did you ever. You had mistakenly thought that though Alfie had been sending you home, he was handling everything swimmingly. However, Alfie was actually about to collapse under the amount of plates he was spinning. You reorganized his calendar. Argued at length about the numbers and the accounts until they were perfectly balanced. You reviewed the designs for the gaming club, now named Crown and Horse, and chastised Alfie for failing to choose the wallpaper despite opening night coming in three weeks. More had been accomplished in a single day than had been done in the past week, and you both were abuzz. Alfie could not deny the fact that he had felt better than he had in weeks having you back in his atmosphere. He felt lighter. He laughed easier even if it was at his own expense. Looking at the way your eyes danced along the pages and listening to the ringing of your voice as you hollered and laughed brought him more bliss than any rum or draught that could be cooked up.

As the weeks went by, more and more Sabini strongholds and hiding spots were blown to pieces. More and more Sabini men and soldiers were driven mad by the dark spectors haunting their steps, until they were quietly taken in the night. You were aware of it all, through the whispers in the street and the information Alfie shared with you. The tailor shop was nearly finished, but business was booming more than it had in years. Whether it was due to people feeling sorry for the fire or due to peoples new found respect in the family's tie to Solomons, you couldn't tell. But your father looked more settled than he had in ages, and that was enough for you.

Opening night of the gaming club was to be a grand affair. The Shelby boys had opted to hire a band to play, and gaming tables were to be pushed to the sides to keep room open for dancing. Despite protestation from you, snow would be available along with good drink, anything to keep the crowd raucous and loose lipped. “The only difference between high brow and low brow people treacle, is how willing they are to get their good clothes dirtied up.”

Alfie had asked to escort you to opening night, you tried to decline, as you had nothing quite so suitable for an event. But Alfie scoffed, suddenly producing a wine red evening dress, with nearly black beads dotting the dress, catching the light to look like the night sky. Of course, you scolded him harshly, it was not in the budget you had set for the opening. Alfie smirked, touching the gold locket,that he refused to take back, on your neck, “There’s always room in the budget. I’ll pick you up in the car. 7. Make sure that locket stays on yeah?”

The last ‘date’ you had been on was a abject disaster. You were 17, and your date reeked of cigarette smoke and paint thinner. He took you to the pictures, where he proceeded to kiss a girl who sat next to him on the other side. To add insult to injury, Eli sat behind you to see the entire thing, and swiftly began to punch the living daylights out of your date. Eli did win, but did sport a black eye for a good while, and teased you about him for years to come.

Not that this was a date! This was not a date! This was merely a business event. A business event with your very handsome boss in a dress that he bought that just happened to be the perfect fit.

Or so you argued with Eli as he teased you from your doorway watching you pin your hair up. “Uh-huh of course. So do you think that Alfie will propose to you tonight? Or is the little locket the sign you’re using for your betrothal?”

“Get out! God don’t you have anything better to do?!”

“Mmm no Im off today. Watching you put more effort into your appearance then you ever have in your life is amusing to me.”

You spun around, “I look terrible don’t I? I look ridiculous! Oh damnit that’s it when Alfie comes you will have to tell him I caught a pox or something!”

Eli threw his head back hollering in laughing, throwing himself on your bed, “Oh my gosh!! Dear heart you don’t look ridiculous!!! You look nice!! Like a regular star! I’m only teasing you. Please please you must go. I don’t think a pox lie would keep Alfie from pushing his way into the house to get to you anyway.”

Watching him from the mirror you said, “You don’t think so?”

“Alfie? No nothing. And I don’t think it’d keep you from seeing him either. Am I wrong?”

Your head fell on the desk, “Eli… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what?”

“I don’t know if… I’m allowed to feel… the way I do.”

“Well you have to say it in order to know if it’s right.”

You turned to face him, “Eli,.. I feel… home. I feel like I’m right where I need to be when I’m with him. And I want to be next to him all the time. I don’t like not being near him. It feels like… I’m missing my favorite book. I’m still me if I’m not with him. But I’m always searching for him.”

With a soft smile Eli responds, “and why wouldn’t you be allowed to feel like that?”

“Because… well… I don’t want him to feel responsible for me. He has enough to deal with.”

Eli looked around the room, waving his hands, “Well… he did all this… and had only asked that you don’t quit. So… not that I don’t think you’re smart… but I don’t think you’ve really thought it through… it seems… like you’re looking for a reason to not love him so that you don’t feel vulnerable… am I wrong?”

Chewing on the nail of your thumb, a persistent habit you've tried to kill for years, you mumble out, "I hate it when you do that."

Eli merely smirks, mirth glittering in his eyes, "What is a brother for if not to see you past your walls? Now!" Eli stands grandly, as if finishing a fabulous routine for a crowd, "It's nearly seven mouse. Finish up so Mr. Solomons isn't kept hostage by Esther for too long."

You waived him away giggling as the memory of Esther attempting to put fake rouge on Alfie glimmers in your mind. Eli was right. He usually is, as infuriating as it is. While you had lulled yourself to sleep with fantasies of loving Alfie fully and replayed the moment in the jewelry shop every quiet moment you had and felt Alfie's breath on your neck with every whisper of the wind... you never allowed yourself to truly imagine and consider love. Never allowed yourself the pleasure of the thought of him loving you. But.

If he does.

If Eli is right.

If Alfie Solomons loves you.

And you love Alfie Solomons.

Who is to say that you can't be together.

What is to keep you apart?

What is to make love unsafe?

Your reverie and final touches are interrupted by sweet Esther bounding in joyfully, "He's here!! Mr. Alfie is here!"

She pauses at your seat on the vanity, mouth agape, teddy dragging on the floor from where it hung from her grasp, "Wow... you look like a princess..."

You laughed out, gathering Esther in your arms to carry her downstairs, "Well thank you my sweet girl. But surely not as beautiful as you."

She sqeauled and giggled as your pressed kisses to her chubby cheeks, dark red lipstick smudged on. Alfie's eyes were drawn away from Eli's story to land squarely on you and Esther. It was as if everything melted away. You were always beautiful. Always. Not a single moment was different. But in this moment you were otherworldly. Your beauty was only enhanced and amplified with the fine clothes and extra time put into your makeup and hair. The smile you had on your face was radiant and true. The love in your heart shone out adding a glow around you. Alfie wanted to live in that glow forever. Eli stopped talking and smiled at you as he watched Alfie walk towards you like a man in a trance. When you finally set Esther down, you turned in a circle, letting Alfie get a full view, "Is this ok Alfie? You don't think it's too much?'

Alfie shook his head, motioning for you to spin again, "It's absolutely perfect. You look like a right star. Every man will want to dance with you sweet."

You chuckled, "Well they'll be disappointed won't they? I only dance for one man."

For the first time in his life, Alfie felt a blush rise in his cheeks. He had never been flustered before. Silently, he grabbed your hand and pressed a whiskered kiss to your knuckles before leading you out. You waved by to Eli and Esther, excited for the evenings festivities.

You were shocked that the floor hadn't broken underneath you. It was packed. It was alive. It was proving a success. The band John Shelby had booked was relatively new but had shown the crowd the best time they would ever have. The dance floor was vibrant with sequined and bejewled bodies. Gaming tables were sending men to the grave and to Olympus in equal measure. Drinks were flowing like a river, and no one was exempt from its effects. When the Shelby boys whisked Alfie away for drinks and business, you were quickly adopted by Esme, Ada, and Polly. And though you knew that the Shelby - Solomons relationship was at some moments rocky, you felt immediate connection with the women, and knew in your heart that a friendship with them would be more than just business. Your face was hot and your body was buzzing from the energy in the room. You and Ada became fast friends, dancing and twirling like silly girls in the playground. Soon enough you collapsed into barstools laughing and whispering about the scenes surrounding you. But soon enough, your conversation with Ada was cut short by a warm and calloused hand on your shoulder. Looking up you see Alfie's glowing eyes and flushed cheeks. Ada smiled and slipped away as Alfie leaned in to your ear whispering, "Dance for me?"

You nodded, allowing yourself to be pulled from your seat to the center of the dance floor. You felt weightless as you were sucked into Alfie's embrace. A slower number was being played by the band, and though you were surrounded by couples, you would never have known. All you could sense was Alfie around you. In any normal circumstances you would have scolded Alfie for holding you so possesively in a public setting, it was improper. But you couldn't care. How could you, when your body was wrapped in Alfie's strong arms, your fingers raking through his hair, and his beard scratching against your cheek. How could you care when you were living in heaven.

"Are you having a good time my sweet girl?" Alfie husked in your ear.

You smile, bringing his nose to yours to whisper against his face, "Yes, now that you're here. Only one thing could make it better Alfie."

"What's that?"

You force your eyes to meet his storming ones, letting your hand run through his beard, "A kiss."

Alfie's large hand slides to the back of your head, making a mess of the pins holding your hair. His face came to yours, kissing you fiercely, and all the months of waiting, debating, and worrying finally melted away. You let your hands rush into his hair, mussing it as you have longed to do for nights and nights and nights. Sweet and tender and hungry and longing, Alfie's lips against your own was the only thing you could understand in that moment. It was the only thing you could comprehend. Pulling away, Alfie huffed out, "Fuck..."

You laughed at his toussled visage, "Is that all it takes to make you silent Mr. Solomons?"

His eyes grew dark, and you suddenly felt a thrill in your stomach, "Careful treacle might just have to do that again."

Alfie was reaching for you again when a commotion began at the bar.

On top of the crowded bar was Sabini, with a gun pointed directly at you. You could see Tommy pushing people out of the way telling them to get out, trying to get to Alfie. John and Arthur and other Peaky boys were fighting men off, trying to pull down Sabini

"SOLOMONS! You think this is how business is done?" Sabini howled from his place on the bar. "You think you can do this to me? You think this is how you kill a Sabini? You think I'll let a bitch destroy this business? I'll kill you all!"

Bang. Bang.

You fall to the ground. The smell of smoke and iron filled the air. You felt warm liquid on your body, and the sound of people screaming and running fill your ears.

But no pain. No fading and no light coming towards you. A heavy weight is on you groaning out your name. It takes a few moments to understand what was on you.

Alfie.

Your body suddenly awakens. Sabini was on the ground, pale and being carried out by his men leaving a trail dark blood in his wake. Alfie had pushed you to the ground to take the shot meant for you, covering your body with his in his fall. You pushed yourself out from under him, holding his face in your hands, screaming above the crowd, "Alfie! Alfie look at me!"

His eyes were searching for you, "Treacle... treacle you alright love?"

"Alfie you stupid stupid man why did you do that! Alfie please!"

He smiled weakly, "It's alright sweet girl. Old Alfie's alright. Barelt a scratch on me love. Couldn't let my best girl get hurt yeah?"

You looked down at his stomach, a sickly red bloomed on his crisp white shirt. Not a scratch. Not alright. You felt the tears streaming down your cheeks, "Alfie we need to get you to a doctor. We need to go now."

Alfie shook his head, raising his hand to your trembling face, "Nah... I don't think so sweet girl. Just give me a moment. Just let me look at your sweet face for a little. Just give me a moment."

Alfie's eyes fluttered shut as he passed out. Shaking, you began screaming his name, "Alfie... Alfie! Alfie wake up!! Ollie!!! Ollie fuck get over here! Somebody help!!! Somebody please help!!!"

Tag List: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum @cookiez56-blog , @teapartydreams , @sciencewithottsnpotts , @6asm0ne , @purrrrfect, @bluejellyfiish @jassiefayee

[lurkingshan]

Things That Have My Attention in 4 Minutes Episode 3

This was kind of a weird ep that gave me a bit of tonal whiplash, especially around Tyme and Great's little date.

Let's talk timelines. We know there are two main ones: 1) Original where Great is presumably having a cardiac event and where he made all the original choices the power is now letting him change, and 2) Redo where things are different based on his second chance decisions. It appears that everything we are seeing happen is part of the redo timeline, which we know because all the events are connected and influencing each other.

I'm also feeling good about my theory that at 11:04 he will get sent back to the original timeline and our redo comes to an end. We advanced to 11:02 this episode.

This episode's 4 minute jump back indicated that the real trigger is Great not advancing with Tyme rather than tied to him making shitty and harmful decisions, since he got sent back just for turning down a date invitation. Ngl that's kinda disappointing to me, I was more into this being about his character development.

If the purpose of the power is to steer Great to Tyme, and we know that he originally did a hit and run and didn't go to the hospital, that implies he met Tyme differently, and possibly later, in the original timeline. The power seems focused on changing the course of his relationship with Tyme, and the images he's been seeing of himself and Tyme together and Tyme's different messages on the Thai Tea cup may have been his consciousness briefly slipping between one timeline and another. After this ep, where we saw that Tyme was asking forgiveness, I wonder if he didn't fess up about investigating Great's family in the original timeline and the power ensured he would in the redo. Now that he's unmasked himself, is he going to tell Great that he's after his family and why?

The cold opens--Tyme injured, Tonkla murdering someone in the same manner his brother was killed, and now a second body turning up--may be things already happening in the original timeline (which is the future from our current vantage point) or they could be new future things happening as a result of these changes.

I don't think Dome is Tonkla's brother. He is alive and at the hospital in the redo timeline where Tonkla is grieving, which we know because Tyme specifically says that he is checking on him on Great's behalf. That would not make sense if Dome was actually residing in the original timeline, where Great never saved him or met Tyme at the hospital this early.

I need to know more about Nan, her connection to Tyme, and why they are being so reckless in their pursuit of this gambling operation. The way she infiltrated that compound alone with an armed man in an isolated place was wild.

We saw Great give Tyme the white doll at the end of their date, but then when he was brooding later at his apartment, both dolls were sitting on his couch. Continuity error, another consciousness slip moment, or a clue of something else going on?

Tonkla sure started fucking that cop quickly, and in the home Korn pays for. I'm worried about that kid. And the graphic nature of that scene had me clutching my pearls lmao (shoutout to the PrEP mention but boy what is your preoccupation with being fucked raw??). At least the cop seems like a better sex partner than Korn. Get your kicks in while you can, sugar baby.

Besties I really have no idea what's going on but I'm trying my best!

[macfrog]

all three dogs

Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love. andrew kane, how to be a dog

inspired by this gorgeous post (good idea to read it before you read this), and this gorgeous ask (thank you @iknowisoundcrazy). also shoutout to @mrsmando for being the queen of character study. i am not sure what this is, exactly? is it about joel miller, or is it about some dogs? i do not know. but it was fucking cathartic, so here, i guess. here's how i see joel at his worst.

summary: "dog metaphors are all about devotion, devotion to a person, a concept, a place etc, to be a dog is to be devoted."

warnings: little graphic i guess? blood and guts. violent joel. sarah dies and joel shoots up a hospital to save ellie. angst. i think that's it

word count: 1.3k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets with notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🖤

he loves you, sarah says, fork digging into egg.

he’s dependent on me, joel quips, not the same.

i think it’s the same.

when the first dog is born, he gives his heavy head a shake, and his ears flick to life. his fur is still damp from the blood and fluid of his mother’s body. he still smells like her – looks like her, too. he is still connected in some way to where he has been; the umbilical cord coiled and dripping.

she licks and licks and licks until he is clean. watches contently as he pads off into some distant future, where he will lose that boisterous gleam in his eye, the gentle wag of his tail. but for now –

for now, he is brown-haired. brown-eyed to match. he has a daughter. he is bright, and alive, and he makes jokes when they bubble up to his tongue. he is good. he knows love like a first language, as if each swipe of his mother’s tongue on his coat melded it into his makeup.

he does not know the warmth of another man’s blood on his hands. he has not drawn the screams and howls of pain from another’s throat.

she is the sun – his daughter – the most radiant part of his life. his life, which spins on its axis around her. always looking for her, to her, at her. vitamin c, she tells him, and he accepts the glass of orange juice. she tells him to swear and he says, on my life. she tells him he’s lame and he says, i know.

he trots faithful and pliant at her heels. circles her legs and passes over her shadow, waiting to be told different. waiting to be shooed away.

only – when he is told, he doesn’t listen. he can’t. what is a planet with no sun to orbit? what becomes of day, when its light begins to drain?

she digs her nails into his skin. pushes and scratches and begs him with shallow gasps to take his hands off her stomach. to let her go. to go away.

i know, baby, i know i know i know i know –

he tells her she’s going to be okay. because what the fuck else does he know? he’s just a dog. he’s just her dog. all he knows is her.

the sun is being eclipsed. the world begins to darken.

i’m just gonna get her killed, joel weeps, i know it. i have to leave her.

when the second dog is pulled from his mother, he wails in a collapsed heap on the cold tile floor. the world is dim, colorless. the sun is gone. he does not know how he ended up here.

love is akin to violence. it speaks the same language, inflection and cadence blurring between words. he is only as strong as his fists are able to break bone. he has run out of road – a panting, ragged, old dog, tongue hanging lopsided and jumping. ears dented with the pieces of him lost to fighting.

something quakes within his chest, a deep, unstable movement. a shifting of the tectonic plates that make up his bones. he shakes violently, feeling for the thrash of his heart against his chest wall. something in the darkness commands him to act – to move, though it never reveals where to or what from. just fucking move.

and then – the eruption of his temper. like waves on rocks, breaching in violent and unpredictable bursts. spray of black ocean on the jagged cliff edge. i made this decision for your own good, he reasons, stood in the pink-papered bedroom. the snow flutters silently outside. his hackles slowly furl. she scoffs. she knows as well as he does: he’s as good a liar as he was a pet.

but for all his anger, for all the fear he misdiagnoses as weakness – there is a glimmer somewhere on his back. a pale light catching in the broken face of his watch; lighting the kinks of his dark coat. it begins to push him; to stir him like the tide.

something is controlling him again. pulling on his collar. someone is lighting the way.

where is she?

fuck you.

it takes as little time for the dog’s ears to prick as it did for his lungs to suck in a breath. his upper lip twists, canine glinting in the trembling fluorescent light. shining with saliva and the rusted tinge of blood. joel thinks it over less than once. his eyes flood black.

i don’t have time for this.

when the third dog rips his way into the world, he tears everything around him to shreds, too. his teeth are already bared; his claws are already swiping. his eyes are black as ink; he cannot remember that soft-footed pup he once was.

there is nothing left to hide. not anymore. he has existed in the darkness too long to try. his shirt and skin are stained with dirt and sweat and blood. his fur is matted; his fangs are brown and rotten. if she saw him, if her light cast its golden spill onto his bloodshot eyes and mottled coat – she would never know who he is. she would not recognize her own father.

but he was always this way, it seems: he has always loved catastrophically.

everything is red. saturated in threat; a screaming, nauseating red. it turns his stomach just to look, to peer down the chamber of his gun. the blinking of the alarm light. the maroon stains on his hands. the metallic smell seeping from the slumped vests. the thick pools he steps through, the footprints following him around every corner. they will catch up to him eventually. they always do.

his paws hurt. pads skinned raw from all the running. his lungs ache, now, too. his throat lurches for breath, closes in on itself and then sticks, choking him. he cannot remember the heat of the sun on his arms. he does not know when he last said her name.

he doesn’t remember when he last said anything. he speaks in growls and barks and bites. when his mouth opens, his lips curl by instinct. he swallows his drawl and replaces it with something sharper. something poisonous. there’s foam lining his gums.

all he has – of this he is sure – is his brute force and the quick snap of his bite. the shattering of bone, the mauling of flesh. the brawn and breadth of his body; the squeeze of a trigger with one thoughtless pull. all he knows how to do is swing.

and so, one heavy boot steps in front of the other. crunching over broken glass and scuffing over bullet shells. whereisshewhereisshewhereisshe. it loops through his head like it used to when he could see color and feel the wind in his ears. like chasing his tail. catchitcatchitcatchit.

where did she go – the moon? which cloud is she hiding behind? how many men do his maws have to tear apart to find her?

and what will she think when she sees him again? his collar missing and his claws dripping crimson. when she feels the rips in his ears, sees the scar on the side of his head. what will she do, when she runs her hand down his dirty coat, and in place of a loving lick or nuzzle of the nose, he sinks his teeth straight into her wrist?

swear to me. swear to me that everything you said about the fireflies is true.

the dog lowers his head obediently. his ears fall flat. tail curls between his back legs. the wind pushes hard against joel’s chest, threatening to take him with it. i swear, he says.

ellie’s gaze falls. she nods once. tightens her fist around the dog’s leash.

okay.

-

lots of inspo drawn from:

how to be a dog by andrew kane

grit by silas denver melvin

monster theory: reading culture by jeffrey jerome cohen [seven theses]

[sansxfuckyou]

a 180 degree turn of events

Summary: the aftermath of a once in a lifetime event leaves John Dory with Pop Villages strongest Troll, and Smidge with a washed up a Pop Star

Warnings: suggestive themes right off the bat, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: @ohposhers THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LET INSANE PEOPLE ONTO YOUR POSTS, shoutout to @8biteyesight for going off with me. hickdory? chazdory? fishshipping? dawndory? naw man we got fuckin smidgedory up in this joint, kill me now. hope ya'll enjoy and if you do consider dropping a reblog or checkin the Ao3 port, it really means a lot

If there was one thing John Dory never expected to happen in the entirety of his life it would be hooking up with a Troll half his size, who was at least twice as strong as he is. He's still reeling over the whole 'half his size thing,' he plans on coming to terms with the 'twice his strength' part later.

But regardless, he's walking through Pop Village holding hands with Smidge the day after, still working through the previous night and how fast he realized he was not going to be in control. One second he's in a bar and the next this short little Troll walks up to him and asks him if he'd like to spend the night. And then he's going through motions he's only went through with Country Trolls nearly twice his size.

"So, Smidge," John begins with cautiously as she pulls a chair out for him, she takes a seat across from him and gestures for her to go on, "Last night."

Smidge grins, leaning on her elbows just a bit, "Go on."

He taps the table nervously, unsure of how to broach the subject. He takes a deep breath, "Was that gonna be a one night stand, or will there be more?"

The yellow Troll freezes up a bit. That's a response she's never gotten before, she usually gets requests to not have it be that way again, or requests to never sleep together again. She shoulders the requests with ease, already used to the sting of rejection after being a bit too rough and taking charge. Instead of that she gets the retired leader of Brozone asking for more, "What?"

John laughed, a forced one, stiff and embarrassed, "Dumb question, sorry," He goes to push out his chair but Smidge is still staring at him, in shock for the most part. He can't just, leave her, in shock, that'd be rude, "I'll go get drinks."

It gives Smidge enough time to process John's request, John's request that wasn't anything like any previous result of her past hook ups which were taboo enough in Pop Village. She's flabbergasted really, asked for another night by the leader of Brozone, Pops biggest sensation that barely skimmed the edges of other genres. And she's heard rumors that John Dory is a bit of a slut, sleeps around and stays on the bottom, but she didn't think they'd be true, didn't think she'd get a chance to test them.

Her brows are furrowing as she tries to wrap her head around this reality she's landed herself in. On one hand she could be in a relationship with John, on the other hand she'd be in a relationship with John and that could be stressful.

He places down this overly sugary drink in front of her before she can come to a conclusion. She sits up a little bit straighter and takes a couple sips of the drink, over saturated with bright colors from local fruits and flavored with dragon fruit and blueberry.

John sits across from her and he's nearly shaking, he's afraid if nothing else. If this goes wrong he's dead, he wouldn't put it past Smidge to kill him, he wouldn't put it past himself to enjoy it either. She's strong, loud, dominant- what's not to love? He's staring her down and he doesn't realize it, "Is this a one night stand, or no?" John presses rather boldly.

"It could be a one night stand," Smidge answered with, "Nobodies asked me for a two night stand before."

"I was asking for a relationship," The words are tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop himself, "If you're single of course, wouldn't be shocked if you weren't- you're lovely and all that."

Smidge takes a contemplative sip of her drink, nearly crushing the bottle in her paws. She places down the bottle and brushes her hands down on each other, "You really think you can handle me in a full time relationship? No one else has stepped up and survived."

John gives this nervous sound, "Well, twenty years in the mountains gives you experience, I'll step up and survive."

Smidge gives a hum, "Alright, it's settled, we're officially a thing," Her voice gets quieter and quieter as she speaks, to avoid a swath of Pop Trolls getting excited over a new couple.

-/-/-/-

"Why is Smidge here?" Clay asked.

"Why is Viva here?" John mimicked back at him as he held Smidge a little closer, "She's my girlfriend."

Branch has the guts to give a small snort of laughter, "I think you being her boyfriend is more accurate."

"And what are you insinuation by that, Branch?" Smidge questioned.

"Nothing, nothing at all," He's smirking behind the mug of coffee being raised to his lips as he speaks.

And Smidge growls, a paw sifting through her hair calms her down swiftly.

"So Smidge and Viva are allowed but Creek isn't?" Floyd asked.

"You know exactly why that traitorous bitch isn't allowed in my bunker," Branch answered with.

"That's homophobia," Floyd muttered before he could stop the snide remark from escaping.

Branch ignores the comment, "Onto matters of importance, tour dates and if we're gonna do tours again."

Smidge barely bites back a hushed, "Oh my god!" and it makes John grin, an appreciative warmth flooding through his chest.

He's her boyfriend, and she's excited about the idea of future tours, he almost feels smug about it. Dating Pop Village's strongest Troll and she likes the music he wrote? He's winning and everyone is both jealous and afraid of them, especially when they're caught in the midst of hand to hand combat in the woods to blow off steam. A little bit of violence between lovers is important sometimes.

"We should hit up the Rock Trolls,"

"They'll kill us, Floyd,"

[peterswonderland]

Introduction

By now, we all have our opinions of The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology. It has received mixed reviews from critics to fans alike.

In the Gaylor community, many have dubbed it her “straightest album,” which I am inclined to agree with. BUT.

If you do not like Gaylor or Swiftgron content, feel free to block and/or keep scrolling!

I’ve seen and read theories for years. In this post I will be referencing the Swiftgron Masterpost. I’m also an avid listener of the What I Will Say podcast. (No one affiliated with the podcast is involved with this post, and for all I know might disagree with it entirely. However, I will be referencing the masterpost at points, and it is only fair to give credit where credit is due.)

This is celebrity gossip, and everything is alleged. I do not know Taylor or Dianna. This is alleged (don't sue me, tysm!)

Peter is…Dianna?

Halfway through my first listen of “Peter,” I was fully convinced this song was about Dianna. That Peter was Dianna.

First, I will go through the lyrics that most pointedly seem Dianna-coded to me.

Forgive me, Peter My lost fearless leader In closets like cedar Preserved from when we were just kids Is it somethin' I did?

Taylor references closets in “seven” on folklore:

And I've been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted Your dad is always mad and that must be why And I think you should come live with Me and we can be pirates Then you won't have to cry Or hide in the closet

Cedar closets are used as a "safe haven" to put valuable items in. The closet has preserved everything from when Taylor and the muse were "just kids" (likely meaning their early twenties.) Shoutout to Kristin in the WIWS Discord for mentioning this!

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Another interpretation I found on Genius mentioned that the closet line in “Peter” could also be a reference to another fantasy story, The Chronicles of Narnia, wherein stepping into a closet revealed a new fantasy world. This fantasy narrative ties in with “Peter”/Peter Pan and “Wonderland”/Alice in Wonderland, which we’ll get to in a second.

The line “And I think you should come live with/Me and we can be pirates” can also be connected to Peter Pan. Peter Pan and the Lost Boys often have to fight off Captain Hook and his pirates. There are also theories that pirates/Captain Hook are old Lost Boys. TL/DR: Old lost boys are either killed by Peter Pan or can choose to become Lost Boys…at least by these fans’ interpretations. A weak link I know, but still an interesting one. 

“We can be pirates” because you’ve been forced to grow up too quickly…? Hm.

Further connecting “seven” to “Peter” is the idea of being just kids, although in “seven” it seems to be more literal, while in “Peter” she might be referring to when she and Dianna actually met: Taylor was ~20 years old, and Dianna was ~24. 

From “Peter”:

Are you still a mind reader? A natural scene stealer? I've heard great things, Peter But life was always easier on you Than it was on me

Dianna is stunning, and has often been referred to as a scene stealer.

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“When we cast Dianna as Quinn, she ruined the part for me,” Murphy says. “She was supposed to be the Cybill Shepherd, Last Picture Show cunt, so to speak, but she humanized it. She can cry at the drop of a hat. So now her character has a conscience, a soul and great vulnerability.” Ryan Murphy, Rolling Stone. Credit

Credit (Shoutout to ellie from the WIWS Discord server for bringing the TCA nominations for "Female Scene Stealer" to my attention!)

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More from “Peter”:

And I won't confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn As the men masqueraded, I hoped you'd return

I viewed this through a queer lens upon first listen; the definition of masqueraded (verb) is “to go about disguised/to assume the appearance of something one is not.”

When Taylor sings “as the men masqueraded, I hope you’d return,” the you is implied to not be a man. 

We’ll circle back to lamps burning/lights in Part 2.

And you said you'd come and get me, but you were twenty-five And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired Lost to the "Lost Boys" chapter of your life

Dianna was twenty-five when she and Taylor allegedly began dating.

Dianna, through multiple interviews and her old tumblr blog (that often mentioned children’s fantasies and stories), seems to cherish her inner child and not be in any rush to “grow up.”

From an interview for Galore Magazine in 2014:

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There are also Dianna’s frequent posts on Tumblr about fairytales and children’s stories - this could lend itself to the idea she was living a “Lost Boy’s life.” More on that later.

But the woman who sits by the window Has turned out the light

Again, there is a reference to light, which is a theme (amongst many) we will visit in Part 2 of this analysis.

These lyrics draw natural parallels to Disney’s animated Peter Pan film, wherein Peter Pan visits the Darling children through their window. Wendy is seen sitting by the window, yearning for something more.

In another TTPD track about windows, “I Look in People’s Windows,” there are obvious parallels to “Peter.” These parallels are so strong that I believe these songs are almost certainly about the same person.

Credit | Credit

In “cardigan” from folklore, Taylor seems to categorize herself as Wendy and an unknown muse as Peter.

I knew you Tried to change the ending Peter losing Wendy

More “cardigan” parallels will be drawn in Part 2. Part 1 is focusing on “Peter” itself as well as its tie ins to another TTPD song, “I Look in People’s Windows.”

I Peter Looks in People’s Windows

Connecting “Peter” and “I Look in People’s Windows” is almost too easy, yet I didn’t catch it on my first few listens. Let’s break it down.

The images referenced above show that windows are a central plot point to Peter Pan. Waiting by the window symbolizes yearning for something more, something magical. Wendy is waiting for something more: for Peter’s return. We can draw parallels between Wendy’s window and the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland: a portal to something whimsical and dangerous.

If you’re new here, “Wonderland” from 1989 is known to many as one of Taylor’s most blatant songs about a woman: Dianna Agron. I encourage you to read this portion of the Swiftgron masterpost if you’re new or need a refresher!

Sit and Wait, Sit and Wait

The first theme we’ll discuss is longing/yearning. Both in “Peter” and “I Look in People’s Windows,” Taylor conveys a strong sense of yearning for a person with whom a relationship has permanently died, despite her hopes.

From “Peter”:

The goddess of timing Once found us beguiling She said she was trying Peter, was she lying? My ribs get the feelin' she did And I didn't want to come down I thought it was just goodbye for now

/

Said you were gonna grow up Then you were gonna come find me Words from the mouths of babes Promises oceans deep But never to keep

/

Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried To hold onto the days when you were mine (Hold onto the days) But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light

The woman (Taylor) who sat by the window has given up hope (turned out the light.)

Also, fun fact about "my ribs get the feeling she did": Dianna Agron removed a Wonderland tattoo after the song "Wonderland" was released. Guess where the tattoo was?

On. Her. RIBS.

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"We're all mad here."

Also, "What will we become? We become ourselves," is a quote from poet Patti Smith. Yes, the same Patti Smith referenced in the title track for The Tortured Poets Department. (Thanks to thea from the WIWS discord for pointing out the Patti Smith connection to me!)

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(Shoutout to reddit user aztraps for pointing out the rib lyric to me!)

The themes of yearning continue on “I Look in People’s Windows” during essentially the entire song, but here are some highlights:

A feather taken by the wind blowing I'm afflicted by the not knowing so

I'd be remiss not to mention that Peter Pan, throughout many adaptations, is known for his feather in his cap. 

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The Paradise of Peter Pan by Edward Mason Eggleston, 1934

You might notice in this painting that Peter looks like...well, a woman (stereotypically and historically!) The character of Peter Pan is normally played by a woman on stage and is often depicted with female features. This makes Dianna being Peter even more...suspicious.

More from “I Look in People’s Windows”:

I look in people's windows In case you're at their table What if your eyes looked up and met mine One more time

This is a love that is ended, yet Taylor can’t help but wonder what might happen if flames rekindled. 

I know what you’re thinking – Taylor Swift isn’t walking around random neighborhoods peering into neighbor’s windows. You’d be right (hopefully.) This song is a metaphor, in my view, for “insta-stalking” or social media “stalking” an ex, constantly checking up on them to see what they’re up to, who they’re with. She checks mutual friends’ pages, looking to see if she sees her love (Dianna) “at their table” (with them.)

The real question is - why use windows as the metaphor for internet stalking your ex? Perhaps to tie it into another song about that same ex?

More "ILIPW" lyrics:

I tried searching faces on streets What are the chances you'd be Downtown, downtown, downtown Does it feel alright to not know me? I'm addicted to the "if only"

Taylor is YEARNING for this person. She also seems to be unable to believe this person has been able to seemingly move on without her (just like Peter has.)

In “Peter,” Taylor’s relationship didn’t turn out as she hoped. She hoped this person would come back, and they didn’t. (“Come Back…Be Here” anyone??? PART TWO)

“I Look in People’s Windows” highlights the fact that Taylor has not completely moved on. As she goes about her daily life, she still “peers in people’s windows” (checks instagram/twitter/etc.) for this person. IT’S THE SAME MUSE!!! (Allegedly.)

In addition, the line: “I'm addicted to the "if only"” is especially interesting given Dianna’s interesting response to rumors of dating Taylor in a May 2023 (!!!) Rolling Stone article:

The theme of waiting is also important to discuss. In “Peter,” Taylor is waiting for someone who said they would grow up and find her; she’s sitting by the window waiting for them. In “ILIPW,” Taylor is looking through windows waiting for this person’s eyes to meet “mine one more time.” Both songs have this sense of sit and wait, sit and wait, sit and wait.

Taylor looking into people's windows and obsessing over gatherings where the muse might be in attendance reflects a sense of longing and yearning, reminiscent of Wendy's yearning in Peter Pan to reconnect with Peter despite being unable to bridge the gap between their realities:

Lyrics from “Peter”:

We both did the best we could do underneath the same moon In different galaxies

Eternal Youth

More from “I Look in People’s Windows”:

I look in people's windows Transfixed by rose golden glows

To view something in rose colored glasses is to see something in “favorably disposed opinions : optimistic eyes.” 

One could compare this to the rose colored glasses Wendy takes on when visiting Neverland, or when Alice visits Wonderland. (Again, we will be reviewing Wonderland’s connection amongst many other songs in connection to “Peter”/“ILIPW” in Part 2.) Both of these fairytales cater to the inner child and youth.

The theme of eternal youth in “Peter”, based on the fairytale of Peter Pan, is self explanatory, and I don’t feel the need to go into detail in this already MASSIVE post.

For this example, we’re going with the theory that “Peter” and “ILIPW” are inspired by the same muse/relationship. “ ILIPW’s” theme of yearning can be interpreted through the lens of Wendy's relationship with Peter—a story that encapsulates the longing for eternal youth (which Taylor writes about in “22” on Red, a song that is DEDICATED TO DIANNA, the pain of growing up, and the poignant realization that some connections are meant to remain in the realm of dreams and memories.

Rediscover Your Sense of Wonder

Peter appears unexpectedly and at random to seemingly bring a sense of magic and wonder to those around him, including Wendy and her siblings. Peter visiting the Darling children through their window symbolizes the allure of escapism, especially for someone like Taylor who cannot lead a normal life, and the desire to remain forever young.

“ILIPW,” if you allow the interpretation that it is intrinsically connected to “Peter,” indicates a longing to recapture, if anything, the innocence and adventure embodied by Peter/the muse. Taylor’s fixation on windows is a search for moments of enchantment and wonder that the Peter muse gave her.

If we follow this line of thinking and allow Dianna to be the muse of “Peter” and “I Look in People’s Windows,” it’s very interesting that the song canonically dedicated to Dianna centers around the very idea of youth and wonder: “22” from Red, as seen in the Rolling Stone piece mentioned above.

From “22”:

We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time It's miserable and magical / It seems like one of those nights We ditch the whole scene and end up dreaming Instead of sleeping / Everything will be alright If we just keep dancing like we're 22

Tumblr / felldowntherabbithole

Dianna once had a tumblr with the url felldowntherabbithole. While I searched what archives I could find, it was quite overwhelming, and I didn’t get through many of her posts throughout the years she was active. However, I will mention posts I did find that showcased her interest in fairytales, and why Taylor might choose one (or two…“Wonderland,” anyone?) as inspiration for songs she has written about Dianna.

FIRST: This old post was found by Cam from whatiwillsay. She is not affiliated with this post and did not endorse it. However, I was unable to find this screenshot myself on the Wayback Machine, so I want to give her credit for finding this post on Dianna’s blog:

Credit

Now, onto some screenshots I found myself of Dianna’s love of fairytales, all courtesy of the Wayback Machine:

References from bottom to top: Goodnight Moon, Dr. Suess, Alice in Wonderland, Little Red Riding Hood, Underland (a retelling of Alice in Wonderland)

Part Two

PART TWO is here!

If you have any comments, suggestions, or questions, I’m more than ready to hear your thoughts!

Part Two will cover "Peter" and "ILIPW's" connections to other songs associated with Dianna.

Part 3 will cover anything I missed that I didn't feel I could edit into Part 1 or 2, as well as some more reach-y theories that I still feel deserve an honorable mention!

This post will be edited for grammatical and factual errors as necessary, as well as adding more evidence I feel needs to be included in this post.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s4 episode 3 thoughts

ahh, this one sounds interesting… let us see.

HATER ALERT: i actually felt almost no interest during this episode… until the very end. the monster was scary, but it didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, and when our agents are separated doing different tasks, we lose that emotional heart of the show. i did feel attached to our new friend mr. duff, but from seeing how these episodes go, i knew what was going to happen to him. the ending was great- i love when they save each other! but the other parts were kinda just… eh. and the stuff they introduced that was supposed to build up to the bigger plot also didn’t interest me. i was like okay, so we just get another one of these deep throat fellows. i hate to say it, but i was kind of bored!!!

despite this announcement, let us return to the liveblogging

good to be reunited, i say after 2 days having not seen an episode. might have to quit my job when i finish this show because there will be nothing else to carry me through lmaooo i NEED to look forward to scully and mulder time AND THEN scully and mulder discussion time directly after!!!!

we are on a plane. ah yes, the flute my mutual phoebe speaks of is playing. shoutout to @azure-firecracker. i see some people in cool outfits and a child playing with what looks like a yellow barney doll? not one of barney’s friends… it looks like barney himself, but yellow. interesting.

oh! this fellow is reading french! it’s a paper about repairing some infrastructure! i like that i can read a few words :)

ACK! a creature with white painted skin and a red human eye is watching our francophone friend! oh boy, i paused right as this eye filled my screen and it was deeply unpleasant. 

so francophone friend is trying to use the airplane bathroom but i am spooked because that thing is somewhere… and he looks up and SCREAMS!!!!!

now the plane has arrived… but where is our dude who went to the bathroom? an entirely different guy is climbing up from the ground. and his eyes look like they are bleeding????

so where is OG francophone dude???? BLEAH! he is dead and now HIS face is painted all white!!!

so did we get some body swap stuff going on….?

oh gosh this is creepy…. something about that skin paint and red eye combo is freaking me tf out…

HUH??? intro time has been interrupted by new words in the title sequence!!! they read “deceive inveigle obfuscate”… had to look up “inveigle” but it means to persuade… what are we dealing with here??

i can’t figure out what the pattern is for why some special episodes have different title sequences…. oh i bet the OG fans were trying to CRACK the code back in the day

(author's note: i think the titles change when we learn stuff about the various deep throats? plural. you'll see why i specify plural later on)

back at the headquarters. scully is coming into skinner’s office. she is in a very nice white suit! she remarks that there isn’t much traffic at this hour… she showed up at 5:17 AM?!?! she needs a RAISE!!

she is introduced to a dr. bruin from the philly CDC. well this sounds like it is going to be a scary matter if it involves disease. she shakes this guy’s hand but doesn’t say anything. can’t tell if it’s a silent read or not…

so four young men have gone missing in philly recently, all Black. and there are no leads… until last night! owen sanders, reported missing, was found dead near a construction site. but he wasn’t killed!!! disease....?

so he shows her a photo of a dude painted white and is like “i thought he was black” and the doctor is like yeah he was. but maybe a new disease caused depigmentation. so we should get a microscope.

(that was funny to me because he was very clearly a Black man just painted white with actual paint... writers, do not think such tricks could fool medical doctor dana scully)

so i am not to believe that these guys were NOT actually painted, but rather they lost their pigmentation? okay, okay, noted. i am suspending my disbelief 

skinner says they hoped someone with a background like scully could make a quick analysis. this is also funny because i feel they should have maybe gone to a specialist in skin conditions that could possibly cause such effects...? but for plot reasons it Must be her. i mean she IS kinda the best, so maybe she can figure it out. by 7:30 am she is doing an autopsy.

OH! she says the bleaching of the irises suggest a cellular reaction… bleh. sounds very nasty.

“hey, i heard you were down here slicing and dicing”, says mulder, entering the room and sabotaging her nice little recording session 

(mulder makes a michael jackson joke that feels wrong) (also he is popping sunflower seeds in the morgue)

he is very suspicious… not believing it is a real disease… 

“mulder, not everything is a labyrinth of dark conspiracy” <- LMAO i’ve reblogged that moment before but now i really get to see it!!

“and not everybody is planning to deceive, inveigle, and obfuscate” <- she said the words omg…. (he watches and pops a sunflower seed)

what a lovely vocabulary she has, the better to look at him disapprovingly with 

he wants to join the case and she looks off sort of by the camera and looks SO done lmaoooo

cutscene to another man, mr. aboah, who conspicuously seems to be missing some pigment on his back. and in a way that does not look like paint.

someone is knocking at his door. oh! it’s marcus duff, his immigration counselor, who has arrived to talk about naturalization. mr. aboah welcomes him into his room, but the lights are off and it is very hard to see, i note. duff agrees it is very dark! and brings this fact up! so he turns one light on, and they sit to do paperwork. 

duff says aboah looks ill… but he denies it. so duff says he knows how lonely it is to be newly arrived to the US, and that he can help aboah bring over his whole family. long silence... suspiciously long silence… then a thank you.

mulder is going to the lab and there he sees agent pendrell! LMAOOOO he wants to wait for scully but mulder says she has a date just to mess with him… THEN SAYS IT’S WITH A DEAD MAN BECAUSE SHE IS DOING AN AUTOPSY LMAOOOO

damn, everyone knows how down bad this dude is.... that is soooo funny and also pathetic. unfortunately i do lowkey loathe this pendrell fellow. like stay away from her yk?

so, what did they find in the autopsy… a seed of a rare flower indigenous to certain parts of west africa!

(cutscene to mulder on the phone, holding the seed) “it contains a cerebropathic glycoside. does that mean anything to you?” <- i love when he asks her medical questions because he doesn’t know wtf any of that stuff means... it makes my heart grow three sizes to see him deferential

and she knows what it means!! it’s a depressant. she is still in the morgue, now covered in lots of blood all over her coat 

oh! she found something that could explain his lack of pigmentation… “his pituitary gland was necrotized”, which is a funny thing to say even if it actually has a very important meaning! the pituitary gland controls hormones... and melanin!

“i have identified the effect, i am still looking for the cause” <- i love her so terribly, and her rigid but in a lovely way line of thinking... this is a very important specification!

“where are you, mulder?” “off to water the seeds of doubt. bye bye” omg he actually said bye. that has to be a first. also where is his ass going…

there’s something different about the way his hair is brushed in front of his face today and hmmppppgh he looks. handsome.

he is off to the UN building again… and we see ms. covarrubias, from before??? was he lowkey stalking her….?

yes! yes he was, and approaches her in the dark! this is deeply weird behavior, even for him... also why does he think she can help with this case. he’s onto something… but what? 

she flat out denies knowing about this case. but he doesn’t buy it.

WAIT. i see what is going on here… is she going to be deep throat 3.0?!?!?!

damn... we’re nearly at a deep throat a season at this pace...

not sure i like that tbh. like are we gonna just keep getting and losing deep throats. it's getting a little old. also, whatever happened to that one senator who would leak stuff to mulder? was that just a two episode and never mention it again kind of thing?

hmm.

okay, back to philadelphia i think. yes, this is confirmed by the eagles hat this guy has on. OH! he was hit in the head with something. it looks a thorn, and it digs deep in his head and got all bloody, bleh! he is losing his vision after this, and stumbled onto the bench behind him. everything is deeply trippy from his point of view, and the bus driver leaves angrily, thinking he is on drugs, which was very rude.

but as the bus driver pulls away, we see aboah on the other side of the street!!! who is losing even more melanin in his skin as time goes on!!! and also has one eye all pink now!!!

(intense chanting over a drum beat)

next day, scully is with the bus driver from before, asking about what went down. he claims he asked the dude if he needed help, which is very much not true. 

and mulder arrives! alfred kittel, 17 years old, went missing last night. this is not good.

mulder’s convinced it has to do with another rare seed, and he pulls out some file that deep throat 3.0 must have given him. and it’s a photo of our francophone friend from the very beginning of the episode, who was also found dead and without pigment!

“it says here the cause of death was undetermined” “yeah, undetermined scully, but not necessarily unknown” <- so what does that mean… like they just didn't investigate because they were scared to learn the truth? hmm.

some police are knocking at aboah’s door the next day, asking him about the missing person’s case- notable, one Black officer is talking about how weird of a name aboah is. i see this attempt on commentary, and acknowledge it, but it feels... odd.

and despite denying having any informationon the missing man's whereabouts, who is in aboah's office but kittel, the kid who was hit with a seed last night, missed his bus, and was reported missing! he is quietly gasping, watching the TV, and oh…. he is losing pigment in his eye and skin as well!!! WHAT IS GOING ON

aboah opens his mouth really really wide and…. PULLS SOMETHING OUT OF HIS THROAT??? what was that!?? what was that.

hey. what was that...

mulder and scully are now visiting mr. duff, the guy who was helping out mr. aboah with his naturalization process. they’re asking him to cross reference his list of clients with a list of people from that flight where our francophone friend sadly was killed, and mr. duff thinks they’re trying to catch illegal immigrants, unto scully busts out the word “public health crisis” and then things kick into gear.

mulder checks aboah’s place, but no luck. she’s going on about how it’s her duty to find and solve this disease as a doctor ( <3 ) and he recognizes aboah in a crowd of construction workers… but when mulder approaches he sprints!!! little did he know of mulder’s trackstar skills. 

scully thinks he jumped through the fence, but mulder finds him… in some sort of hole???

so it’s MRI time for aboah, to figure out we is going on. the doctor is saying he looks asymptomatic, but mulder is pouting in the window, so scully asks to run a few more tests. and apparently aboah can’t communicate with them due to the language barrier… so they called mr. duff, who is very angry that his client has been arrested.

mulder says “we only arrested him because he ran when we tried to question him, and i want to know why he ran”...

(CRINGE! CRINGE! INSENSITIVE WHITE MAN ALERT!)

...which causes mr. duff to respond with “sir, if you had ever been beaten by the police, or had your home burned to the ground for no other reason than being born, then maybe you would understand why he ran” oh! mulder cringe moment intensifies, even after this heartfelt explanation from mr. duff, as he INSISTS aboah ran because he’s hiding something 

“where are you going?” “to find someone who i know plotted to deceive, inveigle, and obfuscate” (silly words said very angrily)

so he’s at the burkina faso embassy. talking to the man who mulder thinks requested to stop the investigation into the first man’s death. this is a bold accusation... but not one the man seems to deny.

he says that his people, the Bambara, are farmers, and he grew up hearing stories of the Teliko, spirits of the air. they hide in small holes- which could be how aboah got in that pipe, i suppose- and oh no, the doctor back at the hospital is looking for mr. aboah while our unnamed embassy man is explaining how the teliko emerge at night!

the man from the embassy talks about his experience with an air spirit as a child, and how his father saved him from one. but then, they found his cousin dead and entirely white, like the dead men. which is why he knew it was real.

(zoom in on aboah in a tiny drawer of a food delivery cart) OH! the eyeballs peeking out are CREEPY

next morning, they’re looking at x rays. scully says aboah has something lodged in his throat… like that thing we saw him take out before!! and even more disturbing… look at the saggital section, just below the hypothalamus! NO PITUITARY GLAND!

GASP! this is impossible! (i love the medial jargon)

mulder emerges into the room just as they say this to point out that aboah has disappeared!

mr. duff is heading back to his car, but aboah is on the prowl. mr. duff is very happy to see him, and gives him a ride home. NOOO DON’T LET SOMETHING BAD HAPPEN TO THIS GENTLEMAN!!

NOOO! mulder is investigating the food cart when scully reports that mr. duff’s car was found abandoned…. with the keys still in the ignition. do not hurt him.

WHAT? cutscene to aboah holding this BIG NEEDLE thing over duff while one of his eyes is very pale…. where is that needle going…. OMFG HIS NOSE I CAN’T LOOK… 

the police arrive just after some crunching noises were heard and then also some snuffling in the pipes as aboah escapes into them. but luckily, duff is alive.

mulder is proposing that he is basically a vampire for melanin?

wait, hold on, what is going on about now? “the lost tribe- a clan of sub-Saharan albinos linked by their common congenital deficit who’ve adapted over generations by…” “what, by stealing other people’s hormones?”

well, scully, i must say i had a very similar reaction to his hypothesis!

so why wouldn’t it be an isolated case? she asks. a very good question! because of what someone told mulder last night… “so you’re basing this theory on a folktale?” “it’s just another way of describing the same truth, right? i mean, all new truths begin as heresies and end as superstitions. we fear the unknown, so we reduce it to the germs that are most familiar to us, whether that’s a folktale or a disease or conspiracy”

well... that is an opinion you can have, i guess?

scully with the counterpoint: why leave his own country to come here and do the killings? his smarts ass reply: free cable…. or liberty n whatnot idk

mulder pulls over to a demolition site, which he thinks might be connected to one of the other bodies, so he just. busts a hole in there and walks in. fully knowing that it is a demolition site with active asbestos. okay!!! get that mesothelioma suit king

creepy music as they explore… and hear clanging in the dark…. mulder is gonna climb a ladder now.

BLEH, THE SCARY EYES ARE WATCHING!!!!

AND NO!!! mulder is hit by one of the seeds!!!! he is calling out for scully as he trips into another dimension. NO!!!! he has fallen down!!!

scully rescue time….? now she must climb the ladder…. and sees him toppled onto the ground!!!

she hears some clanking about and climbs into a vent… which had to be awful to film… the teliko is above her!!!!!!

more vent crawling…. AND OMG!!! the dude from before, alfred kittle, is in there, and now very very very white and dead!! rip king :(

but she finds mulder in there, alive. he can only groan softly. aww poor meow meow. but something rapidly approaches….

JEEZ.. IT'S ABOAH/THE AIR SPIRIT, AND HE’S CRAWLING ON ALL FOURS AND BARRELLING TOWARDS HER WITH SHINY SCARY EYES LIKE A CAT WAAAH

scully whips out her gun and fires two shots… and aboah (do i call him aboah? IS he still the man named aboah? was he ever? or was he just a spirit?) anyway he seems to have disappeared?

(mulder still groaning) “it’s okay, mulder. i’m here. okay?” <- oh…… a rescue scene…. oh be still my heart…. i was not expecting to feel so Tender

so she beats the vent open, and finds the other bodies of the missing men in there. then she pulls his body out of the vent, apologizing to him for yanking on his legs to get him out, which was quite sweet, before slumping him up against one of the bodies to call 911.

OH! scully badge number reveal! JTT0331613. so WRITE THAT DOWN, SUPER FANS. but as she calls, the creature slash aboah returns behind her… 

mulder is groaning and trying to let her know… and she gets the hint, whips around with her gun, and shoots!

phenomenal communication between them with no more than faint moaning from mulder. truly highlights their connection.

this time, it appears there is no escape from the bullets for the teliko, as she sits with mulder among all of the bodies

oh! scully is wrapping up the episode and she has these round glasses on and my heart is skipping a few beats!! this is field journal entry 74.

good news! mr. duff survived!! and aboah is being charged for murder, but aboah is dying as they speak and may not live long enough to stand trial. and she’s confident science can explain the whole thing… “but what science may never be able to explain is our ineffable fear of the alien among us, a fear which often drives us not to search for understanding, but to deceive, inveigle, and obfuscate, to obscure the truth not only from others, but from ourselves” (and fade to black)

well! my initial thoughts…

it seems this episode existed only to introduce us to deep throat 3.0. that seemed to be the only greater overarching plot point there. which is fine, we rarely get any contributions to the overall plot in these monster of the week episodes, but… this one just didn’t do it for me.

idk, i was kind of bored?? the only times i felt things were when mr. duff was very kind, the spookiness of the creepy faces, cringe at mulder’s insensitivity, and when scully saved him at the end. that was it for me. oh, and ick at pendrell. that was it. everything else was just kinda there.

when they’re separated…idk, it just doesn’t hit the same. but i did like seeing more into medical scully! and her dogged determination slash sworn life goal being to find answers and help people! so that was good. but... idk, the concept was really interesting, i just feel like the ball was fumbled in terms of execution, and i can’t even really pinpoint why. 

here are some possible theories as to why i felt this episode was unsatisfactory: we didn't really KNOW anything about our monster of the week. he had no real compelling motivation or backstory or anything. he just showed up, like the fat vampire from season 3, who also stood out to me as a bland monster of the week. in terms of if he was a person at one point or always a vicious air spirit- who knows? the logic wasn't explained.

mulder's racial insensitivity gave me hives which is reason enough on its own for me to dislike the episode. mr. duff was like "maybe aboah was running because of the way this country treats Black people", which is an entirely valid point, and then mulder was all NUH-UH HE'S EVIL and THAT is why he is running. and then... that being what actually happens also rings kinda hollow. that sort of profiling that mulder just did isn't what gets people treated so terribly or abused at the hands of law enforcement in the first place. but i'm supposed to think mulder just Knows this through his magical judgement. hmm.

the succession of deep throats is also getting a bit old for me. i enjoyed one and two, but now it's feeling like a regeneration thing. what makes deep throat 1.0 and x's deaths compelling if we just get a new one every single time?

so: maybe i am a hater. and that is okay. in a way, we are lucky to have episodes that are just sort of mid. because i have been raised in a world of 6 hour long episodes being 1 season. i have grown up in a world designed solely for streaming, and that compactness forfeits the luxury of the exploration of world building or playing with genre that the 24 episode per season format from this era allows. so in this piece of what i believe is just a kind of boring episode, i am realizing how lucky i am that such a thing exists now that they are no longer being made.

[alshaverpressbox]

the minnesota wild as High School Musical characters

did I take this too seriously? yes. have I spent the last week thinking about this? also yes. anyway, the context: we were assigned the wildcats by a swede. @babygirlspurgeon kept tagging things with HSM lyrics. @wildaboutmnhockey created the masterpiece video of the mn wild set to getcha head in the game. so now here I am!!! this has been meticulously constructed with the help of my friend who doesn't know anything about the wild beyond what I tell her (shoutout to zoe for being balls to the wall no matter what I throw at her! who else will discuss the misc. cunt levels of the wild players with me). anyway to make this easier on ourselves we constructed a reality wherein High School Musical is being recreated on ice & instead of basketball in the plot it's hockey, so this is NOT about who's most like a character etc (though that ended up being a large part of it anyway whoops), but who could embody them best in a production of it. since the cast for HSM is not...particularly large, I was really getting down into the weeds with minor parts to fit (almost) the whole roster in here, so most everyone has their moment!!! anyway. and lastly. I am just saying that mounting this show during intermissions could maybe fix the nightmare this season has been & bring the team together. because they are. after all. all in this together.

tldr: this is basically a fancast of HSM using only the minnesota wild. I am not explaining myself any further

***

Troy Bolton // Matt Boldy

look. we really had to waffle between many options for Troy and this is where we ended up. my thoughts on matt boldy have been semi-well documented at this point, so mr. white bread bimbo feels like an organic option for this role. I feel like he can really serve us some mid-range semi-insensitive high school jock realness + angst without trying too hard. plus: I feel like he'll play off Shawzy as Gabriella really well.

Gabriella Montez // Mason Shaw

for as fucking annoying as Gabriella is at points, there's an earnest authenticity there that shawzy so easily embodies. his "let's play hockey" moment from playoffs 2023........he has the emotional RANGE and will murder When There Was Me and You in cold blood. plus, much like gabriella does for troy in HSM, mason will be able to coax that emotional performance from boldy as troy with his whole do-it-for-shawzy energy. what else can be said!!! the boys love him!! so don't worry, shawzy!! you soon will be soaring. flying. and breaking free.

Sharpay Evans // Marcus Foligno

marcus foligno the man that you are. he can and WILL serve the cunt necessary to be Sharpay. he will commit body and soul to bringing this role to life, though we may have to adjust the line "evaporate, tall person" to be more appropriate. anyway. I would give SO much in this life to see moose perform Bop to the Top. who will fund this with me.

Ryan Evans // Mats Zuccarello

known funky little man mats zuccarello does SO WELL as Ryan in my mind. his dancing has been well documented so you KNOW he's gonna absolutely kill the game with those jazz squares (it's a crowd favorite! everybody loves a good jazz square), plus his affable, everyman, team-first energy is exactly what the role of ryan demands. also: the idea of him as ryan and foligno as sharpay....chef's kiss.

Chad Danforth // Ryan Hartman

hartzy...hype man for the boys...put him a series of shirts with chirpy slogans on them for my enjoyment please!!! then make him walk around with sports props for the entire production. anyway, hartzy gives me the requisite jock bro energy necessary to pull off chad's role, as well as the bitchiness needed to essentially sabotage something that is making his best buddy troy happy. plus. I'm just SAYING. given chad and ryan's dynamic in HSM2. I am eyeing him and zuccy with anticipation.

Taylor McKessie // Joel Eriksson Ek

he's going the distance. he's going for speed. he's being cast as the tenacious captain of the scholastic decathlon team. mr. september is nothing but committed to his craft and this seriousness and dedication is EXACTLY what we need for taylor. that being said, our boy jeek is up for some shenanigans given the right situation, so will he manufacture a situation to rudely disrupt the decathlon & basketball finals? but of course!!

Kelsi Nielsen // Connor Dewar

who ELSE is going to bring enough weird girl energy to the table?? I feel like dewey 2 would take this SO seriously and the role of kelsi, while at times beyond fucking annoying, demands nothing but sincerity and dedication. he wouldn't be able to NOT take this seriously. this man has also stated that he would be a writer if not for hockey, so we can really get some method acting up in this bitch. essentially: put a bowler hat on that beast and watch him go.

Ms. Darbus // Marc-Andre Fleury

this role had to be rotated in my mind a lot before settling on a casting choice. I mean, goalies are weird, and I feel like flower would bring jussssst enough bizarro energy that would perfectly drive a middle-aged thespian who, for some reason, allowed a high school student to write and mount a musical that seems to make little to no sense. maybe it's all part of a large prank. who knows.

Coach Bolton // Jake Middleton

I can't pretend this is anything other than typecasting, I'm so sorry. I can't look at middsy without being reminded of the dad from Inside Out, plus "the mustache is saying pushing 50" according to my friend. I can also perfectly envision middsy yelling WHAT ARE THOSE TWO DOING IN A TREE with great dedication, so. assigned dilf at HSM casting

Lucille Bolton // Jared Spurgeon

does spurge deserve a larger role? maybe. possibly. probably. but look: once we cast middsy as troy's dad, spurgeon was quick to follow as troy's mom. who are we to fight the natural sexual chemistry of these two? anyway. assigned milf at HSM casting

Jason Cross // Brandon Duhaime

typecast as dumb jock from a team of jocks. what does that say about you, mr. duhaime??? anyway, dewey 1 is really going to deliver on the clueless but loyal bro vibes here. as a bonus. a very IMPORTANT bonus. I have to note that at the end of All in this Together jason is the one to remove kelsi's bowler hat and help her shoot a basket in a VERY flirtatious manner. and I AM all about putting the deweys in that situation, so help me god.

Zeke Baylor // Frédérick Gaudreau

he IS a sweetheart!!!!! a sweetheart!!!!! someday you WILL make the perfect crème brûlée, freddy!!! & your boys will love you for it!!!!

Martha Cox // Brock Faber

the glasses are giving nerd. and then THIS is giving pop and lock and jam and break.

Skater Who Plays the Cello // Jon Merrill

do I need to explain this one????? c'mon. he's so believable as a skater kid and ALSO as someone who plays the cello. the duality of man is contained in jonny "vibes" merrill.

(tbc)

[dancingtotuyo]

Crossed Wires (Javier Peña)

Molten | Javier Peña x OFC!Eleanore

Rating: Mature

Summary: Eleanore isn’t as immune to Javier as she’d hoped.

Warnings: fluff?, implied smut, heavy make out sesh, smoking

Notes: after three years, I finally revisted these two! My first Javi P fic 💕 written as part of the Crossed Wires universe but can be read as a stand alone

Written for @janaispunk’s 1500 kisses. I got this moodboard with a French kiss 💋. Shoutout to Jana for beta reading as well.

Words: 2990

Series Master List | Author Master List

Eleanore stared out the window, the one Javier replaced yesterday, as he replaced the gate hinges in front of the orphanage. She’d been caught speechless when he showed up with the new window. Replacing a few hinges, she’d expected, buying a new window she had not. He’d finished it yesterday and left before she could thank him.

Sweat soaked through the button down he wore sticking to his spine, she followed it down until it tucked into his dangerously tight pants. He’d been dressed in suits at the Embassy and the first time he stopped by. She was too distracted by the window yesterday to notice the fit of his casual clothing, but it was tempting to say the least.

He crouched over, shirt stretching across his broad shoulders, jeans hugging his ass. She bit her lip. Maybe she’d written Javier off too early.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Eleanore jumped, letting the curtain fall back into place as Marisol laughed.

“You don’t have to sneak up on me like that.”

“I didn’t sneak and last time I checked this was a public area, but I guess you can’t watch his fine ass from your office.” The woman winked, pulling back the curtain to admire for herself.

“Marisol!”

“What? It doesn’t hurt to look. I bet he would let you touch if you asked.”

“Don’t you have better things to be doing?”

“Don’t you?” She quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Eleanore said, turning on her heels.

“He kept staring at your office door yesterday. Even asked Gloria if you were seeing anyone.”

She turned back around. “Seriously?”

Marisol grinned. “No… I mean he was staring at your door, but I lied about the other part.”

Eleanore rolled her eyes.

“Just ask him out for a drink, Nora. Have some fun for once. When was the last time you got laid?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Meaning you can’t remember.” Marisol crossed her arms. Eleanore sighed. She needed to find non-work friends. “At the very least you should thank him for all this work he’s doing for free.”

“You want me to sleep with him as a thank you? Do I look like a prostitute to you?”

Marisol gave her a once over. “I mean you’ve got the figure for it. You’d probably make a killing.”

“As much as I’m enjoying this conversation, you have a class to go teach and I have to get ready for dinner.”

“Think about it.” Marisol backed away, a teasing grin plastered on her face.

She cocked her head to the side, eyebrow raised. “I’m not becoming a prostitute.”

A deep laugh came from Marisol as she turned on her heels. “Just buy the man a drink!” she called half way down the hall.

Nora sighed, pulling the curtain back just enough to peek. Javier turned around resting both hands on his hips, his shirt was unbuttoned temptingly low. His tanned skin glistened under the sun.

A door clicked open. Nora dropped the curtain scurrying away like a teenager before anyone else caught her.

She busied herself in her office after dinner. Javier was still outside as of 5 minutes ago. Marisol had popped her head in to let her know before heading out for the day. She shuffled the papers back and forth on her desk for the fifth time in as many minutes.

Chewing on a nail, she looked at the door and then the clock. Maybe she was contemplating asking Javier out for a drink. A single drink. That was it. And so what? It wasn’t a big deal.

She glanced in the small mirror she kept in her office. Little wisps curled out of her ponytail, haloing around her head. She pulled out the hair tie, doing her best to tame the curls with her fingers. She needed a haircut to thin it out. Pulling open her desk drawer, a single tube of mascara and clear lip gloss rolled about sitting untouched for months.

By some miracle, she applied the tacky mascara with minimal clumping. The lip gloss rolled on easily. “This is stupid.” She wiped the lipgloss off with her hands and then hastily reapplied as she changed her mind again.

Nora stared at herself in the mirror before banging her head down on the desk. This was stupid. She wasn’t in highschool anymore. She wasn’t trying to impress him, but every action and thought told her otherwise.

To her surprise, Javier was still out front as she exited the building. He toyed with the fence, inspecting its shoddy workmanship.

“You’re still here.”

“Yeah… this fence needs some major attention. Fixed the gate though.” He pointed over to it while inspecting the post.

Nora fought off the urge to whine like a 3 year old. If he didn’t turn around soon, she was going to lose her nerve.

“Can’t get to it today, or probably the rest of the week-“ He finally turned around. A slight grin cast over his face as she caught his eyes checking her out through their orange tinged lenses. He’d obviously noticed her pathetic attempt at tidying up.

“Don’t worry about it. Really. You’ve done more than enough.” Nora wanted to smack her forehead. Why did that sound like the start to a bad porno? Rugged, sweaty DEA agent helps the broke orphanage director.

Javier paused for a second, taking another look at her. Nora felt her skin heat under his gaze, or maybe it was the setting summer sun.

“You should wear your hair down more often. It suits you.” He smiled oh so charmingly.

And she blushed. She fucking blushed. Nora wanted to run for the hills right then and there.

“And I’m coming back.” He turned back around, back to business. “I can’t leave the fence like this, and I still need to fix your intercom.”

Eleanore took the opportunity to collect herself. “Well, I appreciate it. All of it.”

Javier nodded. “Least I could do.”

“I was planning to walk to this bar just down the street. It’s not much after all the work you’ve put in, but first drink’s on me.” Her tongue felt like sandpaper in her mouth. “As a thank you… if you want.” She managed to contain the string of profanities over her stuttering. Definitely a bad porno.

Javier looked almost surprised by the offer before a subtle smirk settled on his lips. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Yeah, I’d like that. Let me throw my stuff in the truck, and grab a fresh shirt.”

She nodded, pretending not to watch as Javier stripped off his soiled shirt. Visions of popping open the buttons herself filled her head. Nora had to physically turn around to rid herself of them, yet they still lingered. Maybe Marisol was right. It was time for her to have some fun.

“You ready, Ella?” Javier’s breath was hot in her ear.

She spun around, Javier’s face inches from hers, unshielded by sunglasses for once. It took .02 seconds for her to decide he had the prettiest brown eyes she’d ever seen. Amusement filtered through them, but heat simmered underneath.

It took every ounce of self control not to let her vision drift down to his lips.

“Eleanore.” She stepped out of his bubble, but the heat in his eyes only seemed to grow hotter as she set on her path. “Nora if you must.”

“Nora’s not even a part of your name.” Javier caught up with her, hand settling on her lower back as he guided her to the inside of the sidewalk. She considered protesting his touch, but the heat in other places changed her mind.

“I like Nora.”

Javier let out a soft chuckle. “So where’s this bar?”

“Bottom of the hill.”

Javier was teasing her. That much was obvious, and worse, she was eating it up. It didn’t matter that the moves came to him with ease, the brief touches over her thighs, brushing his fingertips across her shoulder blades, and that one time his index finger trailed her collar bone. Had he noticed the way her breath caught when that happened? Probably, he seemed to pick up on everything.

Eleanore excused herself to the bathroom after finishing off her second mojito. She felt Javier’s affect on her, the heaviness in her limbs, fog in her head, the slickness between her legs. He’d barely touched her. The less he had touched her, the more she craved it.

A piece of her thought that drinks with Javier would make her dislike him. She was a master at latching on to the little stuff, nitpicky reasons to not like someone, but with him, each one slipped through her fingers. Even in the midst of his well rehearsed moves, she found some sincerity in it.

She learned he was from Texas. He had a younger sister and a niece whom he absolutely adored. Javier kept plenty of pictures in his wallet, all too proud to show her off. This was his second time in Colombia. He’d been a part of the hunt for Escobar. He didn’t elaborate much, and Nora didn’t ask. It seemed like a sore subject. He was now the DEA attaché to the Ambassador, a promotion since his days hunting Escobar.

He’d made a passing comment about this time being different, doing better. She wanted to know more about that. Would time be kind enough to grant it to her?

She didn’t dwell on that thought for too long. She was focused on tonight. Tonight was about the short term, the release she hadn’t had in too long, but she was going to get it tonight.

Javier caught sight of her the moment she stepped back out. Nora squared her shoulders walking confidently over to him. She didn’t take her spot next to him. Instead, her hand glided across his shoulders, her lips dipping to his ear.

“You wanna get out of here?” Unoriginal, perhaps, but it would do the trick she figured.

His brown eyes met hers, boiling with heat. He rose to his full height making her sure her knees would buckle beneath her. “Do you?”

She nodded, tongue wetting her lips as her eyes flickered down past his lips to the dip at the base of his neck. He invaded her space further, pulling her eyes back to his and the breath from her lungs. Maybe it was the alcohol dulling her senses or the lust, but she couldn’t smell the sweat on his skin, just the faint ghost of aftershave.

His hands found her hips, following the belt loops around her. His thumb brushed under the hem of her shirt, catching soft flesh there. Chills shot up her spine while heat pooled low in her belly. Javier grinned, a rumbling starting in his chest as he caught the dilation of her pupils. He leaned in, lips closing in on hers. Eleanore pushed forward to close the gap but Javier pulled away at the last second, grin plastered on his face.

Her eyes instantly narrowed toward him. “What the fuck?”

Javier chuckled, keeping a firm grip on her waist. “Savoring the moment.” He grabbed a couple of bills from his back pocket, tossing them on the bar.

“Pretty sure this was supposed to be my treat.”

“You can treat me tomorrow night.” He tugged her closer, lips playing at her ear.

“I thought you were busy the rest of the week.” Nora quirked an eyebrow, ever aware of the increasing dampness between her thighs.

“I think my evenings just opened up a little bit.” Javier began to back her out of the bar. Somehow, she trusted him not to steer her in the wrong direction as her arms looped around his neck.

“Someone is feeling confident.”

“Call it a hunch,” he winked at her, swinging the door open.

The humidity of the night latched on to them immediately but neither seemed to notice as Eleanore turned around, walking side by side with him. Javier couldn’t stop staring, her mess of curls springing to life in the thick air, the way her skin flushed with the heat of the day and of need. He couldn’t wait.

Javier pulled her into the alleyway, pressing her against the brick, caging her in. She stared up at him, hands on his biceps. He dove in, nose pressed to her neck, hips nudging into hers. She let out a soft gasp.

“Tell me you want this.” He ran his nose up her neck, mustache tickling the soft skin along the way.

“Did I not make it-”

“Tell me.” He said with more weight. His growing erection pressed into her eliciting a faint moan from her.

“I want you, Javier.”

She barely got it out before his lips crashed into hers. He wasted no time, didn’t ease into it. It was as if he wished to swallow her whole. She let out a soft moan and Javier seized the opportunity to press his tongue into her mouth, teeth grazing her lip. Eleanore met his pace with the same fervor, hands wandering over his chest, popping another button open before slipping under his collar, taking in the warmth of his skin.

Eleanore’s nails raked over his tan skin and through his hair, leaving slight marks. Javier’s hair stood on end, tingles shooting through every hair follicle on his body. He doubled his pursuits, hands wandering her waist, hiking her shirt up as he searched for skin. Her muscles pulled and twitched with each graze against her stomach. His lips tipped upward against hers.

She wrapped her legs around him, creating more friction at her core. He pressed into her as Eleanore let loose another moan. Javier could listen to that sound on repeat. All the different ways he could pull that sound out of her flashed through his mind. It was all Javier could do not to peel her clothes off in the alley.

Somewhere in the gnashing of teeth and fury of hands, the need for air registered in his brain. Javier pulled back, chest heaving as he buried his forehead into her neck. “God, I hope you live closer than me.”

“Just a couple blocks.” Eleanore looked at him through hooded eyes. He pressed another kiss to her lips, much more chaste than the last but with a simmering promise behind them.

“Miracles do exist.” Reluctantly, he eased his body off of hers.

Her feet hit the ground as she ran a hand through her hair, a smirk painted on her swollen lips. Nora took his hand in hers, pulling him out of the alley. “Let's go, Romeo.”

She woke up just after midnight to an empty bed. It didn’t surprise Eleanore in the least. She’d expected it, anticipated it. So, she rolled over intent on getting back to sleep, except the smell of cigarette smoke wafted in through her open bedroom window. It wasn’t unusual for it to come up from the street, but this smelled stronger, like it was coming from her balcony.

Nora shot up, sheets falling from her naked form. She could just make out his silhouette against the city lights through the curtains. His shirt still laid on her floor, and before she knew what she was doing, she slid out of bed, pulling it on.

Her bare feet padded against the hardwood of her apartment. Her sliding glass door stood open as Javier’s back pressed against it, a cigarette glowing in his mouth. She took a second to admire him. The bare expanse of his back. His ass in the jeans that hug him just right. She had him once, technically twice. Now, she wasn’t sure she wanted it to be a one time thing.

An odd chill hit her as she wraps her arms around herself. She wouldn’t entertain those thoughts. He was still here. The night wasn’t over.

Eleanore stepped onto the porch, sticking to the opposite side of the patio. Javier raised an eyebrow at her. He held out his half smoked cigarette. She shook her head. Leaning against the brick, she breathed in the air, looking out over the city before them.

The two of them kept to their respective sides of the patio, silence filling the space between them. Javier couldn’t keep his eyes of Eleanore standing there in his shirt. She never looked his way, eyes pinned outward, teeth biting into her bottom lip. In the time it took Javier to finish smoking, he found himself wondering what was going through her mind, wishing she would tell him, wondering if he would ever be able to know.

He stubbed the cigarette out on the ashtray before easing forward, drawing toward her like a magnet. Nora’s eye snapped to him as he eased in, closing in around her. Her tongue poked out, swiping at her lips. “Javier…”

“Why don’t you like it when I call you Ella?” He rested his palm against the brick just above her shoulder.

She caught the smoke on his breath, hating how much she loved it. She cocked her head to the side, eyes roaming his bare chest, the way his body seemed so relaxed almost touching hers. Before she could stop herself, her hand went to his stomach, traveling over his chest, crawling up his neck. Javier’s head fell into her palm, eyes practically rolling back into his head as her fingers wove through his hair.

Eleanore felt her insides tighten. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

A grin spread across his face, slow and sweet like honey. “Okay,” he whispered as her thumb traced his bottom lip.

Javier surged forward, lips crashing into hers, stealing her breath once again. His fingertips traced the soft skin of her thighs where his shirt met them. He wasted no time working the buttons open one by one, letting his shirt drop to the patio floor before he carried her back to bed.

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

Shoutout to my Google doc for reaching 200 pages. Sometimes I'm worried it will crash and die because of how long it's starting to take to just load the entire thing :)))

Also on AO3, I give each chapter a title, which I never add here.

This one will be called "Our Story's End"

The courtyard is surrounded by bleachers, benches full of dark figures. Spectators for Graves’ twisted theater, soldiers melting into the night sky. The stars are so bright here, a passing thought graces Ghost.

“Simon?” Price’s voice fills his mind, almost a whisper, “get Soap out of here. Graves is going to-”

Ghost tightens his hold on Johnny’s hand, “I can’t. He won’t let you die, Captain.”

The onlooking Shadows turn their heads to watch Soap and Ghost walk into the court. Price and Gaz are held at gunpoint, made to kneel with bound hands.

Blood is covering Garrick’s left shoulder, the man shuddering periodically.

Gaz’s face screams of desperation, the Sergeant wordlessly asking Ghost to turn around, look away, just do anything to stop Graves’ plan.

Ghost continues walking.

“Our main guests are finally here.” the Shadows say as one, guns raised at them, “drop your weapons and keep your hands where I can see them, boys. No funny business, alright?”

Soap instantly throws his rifle to the side, motioning Ghost to do the same. His heart wrenches when he thinks he’ll have to let go of Johnny, but his Sergeant simply lifts their joined hands, glancing at him before glaring back at the Shadows.

“Good… now, I’m going to keep this simple.” the soldiers holding Price and Gaz press muzzles to their temples. 

Limbo screams at the back of his mind, warping and mixing with Price’s near begs to run away.

“All I want is Sergeant MacTavish. This entire… situation has gotten out of control, and for that, I’m truly sorry.” 

The Shadows stand up, rush down the steps to circle the 141.

“Deal’s this: give me Soap, or I kill everyone here, starting with these two.”

Ghost doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Everyone knows what Johnny will pick, the choice is obvious. 

Why is it, then, when Soap lets go of his hand, warmth leaving him in a frozen world, that Ghost reaches over to grab it again?

They both know how this story ends.

Johnny’s eyes, blue skies that hold an infinite number of stars, plea for him to let go. But Simon needs a different ending than this. It can’t be over, ripped away from him like that.

Johnny’s lips start moving, and Simon barely catches the words he mouths before he turns to walk into the Shadow’s arms.

“Find me on the other side, Simon.”

He will regret his inability to answer back for the rest of his life, body and mind so strong they could topple whole empires, yet too weak to do any more than watch Johnny be dragged away into dark vans.

The Shadows drive off, dust kicking up and engulfing the remaining taskforce operatives, the stars gone, muddled by clouds.

All other Shadows melt into the ground, the battle abruptly over.

People are talking to Ghost. Hands hovering over him concernedly. He paid them no mind.

All Simon can see are stars, weakly shining in the vast darkness.

Shining until they, too, leave him.

The Vaqueros drove everyone to the safe house, with many needing medical attention, and the main base still considered under enemy control.

Price and Gaz have stayed with him, when he took 20 minutes more to get out of the truck. When Ghost walked off to the barren lands surrounding the house. 

When he just stood there, in silence, staring at the sky slowly turning a pale grey.

Price eventually pushes Gaz to find someone to fix him up. Something about a bullet wound. Ghost couldn’t really focus.

“We will find him. I’ve already contacted Laswell, she’s working on getting information out of Shepherd. I trust we’ll have something by tomorrow at the latest.”

Ice-cold rage spreads through him at the mention of the General, and Ghost can tell Price notices it.

The Captain sighs, “I should’ve warned you, red tape be damned. I knew Shadow Company wasn’t comprised of actual people before shit hit the fan, but Shepherd fuckin’ stopped me.”

Ghost doesn’t take his eyes off the fading stars, “‘should’ve’ won’t help anyone now…” 

He lets himself indulge, for a moment longer, until the night sky disappears completely. Only then does Ghost let fury fuel him.

Price hurries to follow his fast pace back to the safe house.

They can sit here regretting all day. It won’t bring Johnny back, it won’t defeat Graves.

It’s time the American sees what it means to go against the Ghost.

Their allies have started planning without him, soldiers running here and there, bringing up every piece of intel they could find. Ghost approaches Rudy and Alejandro. 

The men order their soldiers in Spanish, their demeanor cool, but with Vargas’s hands constantly phasing through papers, and Rudy having to keep his own away since everything he touches freezes, Ghost watches a mutual anger take control over their powers.

“Fantasma…” Rudy notices him first, leaving the full table to face him.

Ghost doesn’t let the full force of his emotions waver his voice, “tell me you got a lead.”

The Sergeant Major looks away for a second, “I wish we did, hermano… all we know is Graves is likely trying to get to the border, get Soap over to his home grounds. Beyond that, how, when or where?” the Vaquero sighs frustratingly, “nothing. Shadow Company always covers their tracks.”

Ghost nods. He doesn’t dare putting hope on anything right now. Still, he tells Rudy, “Price got Laswell on intel. She’s close to Shepherd, and with Graves still under his command…”

“The General will know where they’re taking him.” Rudy seems to cheer a tad, “I’ll let Alejandro know, our forces will be ready to deploy the moment we get a location. You won’t be fighting this battle alone, Ghost.”

He doesn’t bother answering him. It doesn’t matter if they have a thousand revenants if they don’t know what to expect.

Graves have spat in their face twice now. He’s far too aware of each and every one of their weaknesses; in Alejandro’s inability to phase underground, in Price’s lack of physical prowess, in Farah’s attachment to Alex.

In Ghost’s vow to grant any of Soap’s wishes, and in Johnny’s greatest fear of seeing the ones he loves get hurt, in hurting innocents himself.

They were daft to think they could walk into the prison, while Graves expected them, and walk out with no major complications.

As he watches the revenants argue about plans of attack, soldiers gathering weapons, organising vehicles, Ghost understands that there’s only one way this could succeed.

Remove all other variables. Any leverage Graves could have on Soap and Ghost.

He must do this alone.

Ghost sharpens another set of knives. They’ll be useless in the upcoming fight, but the repetitive motions calm him, push back the incessant screaming at the back of his mind.

He found a small unoccupied room, and set to check all his weapons, disassembling and assembling guns, in a way Ghost wishes he could do to his brain sometimes.

Deconstruct, clean off the junk, put back together. More efficient. More deadly.

His pattern of movement is interrupted when someone knocks on the door. Ghost has half a mind to scare whoever it is away, but he fears he won’t be able to stop once he starts letting his anger out.

And so, he grunts a ‘come in’, watching the door slowly creak open to reveal Garrick, eyes sunken and arm in a sling.

The Sergeant takes stock of the amount of polished weapons strewn about the small room, and leans on the desk facing the chair Ghost is in.

Gaz seemed to hesitate for a moment, swallowing and exhaling, shoulders eventually drooping in defeat. “It’s my fault, sir.”

Ghost frowns in confusion, Garrick continuing, “I shouldn’t have gotten caught. Price tried to warn me, he told me to leave him behind, but I didn’t listen.”

Garrick’s eyes glance at his before they can’t take the eye contact anymore, “I didn’t want- I couldn’t leave him again. It was my fault the Captain was there to begin with, if I took him with me when we ran away from Graves, he wouldn’t… Soap wouldn’t be-”

“That’s enough, Sergeant.” Ghost sets the knife he’s been clenching on the table.

Gaz looks at him, “but-”

“I am your commanding officer, and so is Price. The fault falls on us.” Ghost raises from his chair. “We’re all to blame, and none of us truly are. I won’t accuse you of Johnny’s kidnapping.”

Garrick’s eyes shine with unshed tears, and Ghost’s tone softens, “and I’m sure Johnny will agree with me. What he wouldn’t have forgiven you for, is if you died out there anyway, after all his efforts. Focus on that.”

Gaz inhales shakily, “yes sir. What about the rescue? I can help, scout ahead-”

“You’re injured. Your job is to heal, nothing else. That clear?”

The Sergeant huffs, “crystal, sir.”

Ghost twirls a knife in his hands. His attempts at gathering his own intel have been fuckin’ useless at best. He has a new appreciation to just how much information they usually start with, and the amount of help Laswell lends them.

He has to find out where Johnny is before the rest do. They can’t barge in while he’s saving Johnny, it will destroy the only advantage Ghost has on Graves.

In one of his rounds, inspecting the papers Vaqueros have left on tables, and the markings on their maps, Commander Karim catches his attention, nodding him over.

They walk over to a quieter spot, Farah leaning out of a window to look at the rising sun. The light shines over her skin in an otherworldly way, flecks of gold embedded in her tan skin.

“I’m sure you want revenge. For your… partner.” she starts, assessing him.

Ghost squints, but lets her go on.

“I’d kill him, if I were in your place.” she straightens her back, “but I have a request from you, Lieutenant. I need to find my soldiers, my brothers and sisters. If there’s any chance they’re alive, I’ll do anything to bring them home.”

Ghost looks over the landscape, the golden hues the world sinks into. Farah has garnered his respect and trust, she worked time and time again to keep the 141 safe. 

They want the same thing, in the end. To protect the people they hold dear, to keep them by their side, despite the forces trying to separate them.

“Graves is working under Shepherd. The PMC probably doesn’t know where your people were imprisoned, but the General does. He’s all yours.” he turns to walk away, “I’d gladly bring him down after I deal with Graves.”

Ghost doesn’t wait for her answer, but he already knows how eager she is to find the American.

He harbors a similar taste for comeuppance.

Ghost doesn’t sleep. His frustrations build and build, desperation and despair setting into the Vaqueros, the 141’s heart.

Laswell calls them the next day, and he sees how everyone holds their breath. Something sours in him - she’s their last hope.

“Kate.” Price starts, taking his hat off, “tell me you have something, anything.”

The CIA chief sucks in a deep breath of smoke, exhaling it slowly. The silence is answer enough, but she still responds.

“Yesterday at 5:00 AM General Hershel Shepherd went off grid. His office was cleared out, computer wiped clean.”

Ghost swallows thickly as Limbo wails, begs to be let out and destroy everything. It mourns its light, its flame in the dark.

“Anything he ever had on Graves is gone. Any location of the revenants he hid - deleted. If you were here, I’m sure we would’ve found him eventually, but…”

Price lowers his head, “it would be too late for Soap.”

Laswell frowns, looking guilty of having to be bearer of harsh truths.

“I’m sorry, John.”

Ghost storms out of the room, his ears and eyes not sensing this world anymore. Limbo screams, violent more than ever, shouts at him to let them out.

He runs. Far, far enough that the void won’t consume what little he has left on this earth, and lets the realm break out of him.

The victims of the void cry around him, little moths littering the empty ground. Unmoving and lightless.

Ghost feels light trace down his cheeks, a worn path tears take again. He wipes them off, rubbing at his burning eyes. 

Oh, how he wishes the world would let him hope once more, the uncaring universe let him have this chance, just this one.

When he opens his eyes, Limbo is not as barren anymore.

Ladder-like patterns, as well as achingly beautiful, burning moths swirl around him.

“SIMON RILEY.” two voices call, one weaker than the other, softer.

Ghost feels a flame light in his heart.

“Reaper.”

This chapter really ties in a lot of the themes I've been going for in the fic. Hope it's obvious enough haha

[spamtoon]

DCRC Week 8. In week 10.

This is normal at this point, but this time I have an excuse for being late! Vacation! But everybody else is taking naps so like come on now's the perfect time to read Dangerous Disguise by Carl Barks, obviously. Oh wait hold on let me get on Club Pengui.n

First thought I like how they phrased it that the only reason he'd send them on a vacation is if he NEEDED them out of duckburg at the moment. alright donald your bad luck is only going to make things worse here lets get you and the boys out on holiday. Here, go ruin the mediteranian

im so mad i just like. looked down a textbox and thats literally what donald confirms help

Okay there we go I'm in now we can REALLY read this story, which I've heard is generally bonkers but I'm unaware of the extent

Lord the humans are uncanny. by now i've gotten used to some of the basically humans with dog noses but these are just. kinda humans. 50s comic style humans yes but they're sitll humans

i love how the triplets' gut reactions to remembering that spies exist is accusing every single person around them of being a spy. shoutout to that guy with a long beard though he's just here to have a good time

needed to include the picture actually. he deserves to stand on the shore and gaze wistfully into the ocean

no don't worry guys donald flirting with real human woman is par for the course right now. for context i just came back from gran fiesta tour featuring the three cabs, a ride where like the movie donald goes after real human women

it might be cliche but madame triple x might just slap as a spy name. i thought about a certain friend's certain duck oc for a split second. you know the one

i like how the spy and the counter spy are complimentary colors. donald just sees a man shaking at the thought of a lady and he's like ok. i get it you don't even wanna deal with this right now

i know this joke has been done to death but the fact they all have the same gun got a good chuckle out of me

what if i started using this as a reaction image. maybe not because of the me but oo la la and that pose is speaking to me right now

chiliburgeria. chiliburgers probably are a thing but i've never exactly thought about one actively before

tied with beard guy this is the best background character

THEY JUST KILLED A GUY OKAY we're not even that many pages in and the triplets have already killed a guy that they don't even know--that guy could have been working for the US government and they would have absolutely no idea because you literally cannot tell

donald just got a power rush after killing the guy he's like HELL YEAH . im a REAL SPY NOW no you're not

this guy's fit slaps. i like to think the nevermind in his declaration speech means that he un-countered at some point. a rogue counterspy that decided to counterspy for a different spy organization.

donald's fucking luck i'm giggling so much in public i'm so. this comic is great i think i needed a dumb fun read today

IM SO MAD great excuse to save him. labor unions saved donald duck everybody

the way the stakes are escalating in these old cartoons i just. taking a concept and running with it

IM SO MAD the way donald is like "my bad luck! when are you gonna kick in!" and the universe was just like "lmao time to spend your vacation fighting a bull"

THE VERY SMALL PANEL everyone is utilizing the very small panel but its. the single best part of the comic they're so little. they're so teeny. carl barks knew it. the secret secret service. i'm so. this comic got my grandparent to ask me what i was laughing at so that's a really big compliemnt. im excited to read more of these random little duck stories in the future

[astraldrake]

tfs thoughts beneath the readmore note: contains spoilers for the entire campaign

the opening vision we get when we enter the traveler... i ended up watching it multiple times (computer issues ;-;) but MAN was it cool the inside of the traveler in general looks super funky, im going to have to do a no hud run at some point just for screenshots. shoutout to bungie for giving us a sparkly pink rainbow subclass, just in time for pride month lol weapon unsunsetting means i get to pull all sorts of old friends out of the vault. (python, the vow, steelfeather repeater, perfect paradox, etc...) i'm pretty ambivalent abt cayde generally but they did a good job w/ his characterization. i was worried he'd end up being kind of grating but so far he's been okay i was (initially) delighted to see targe. i was not anticipating that they were introducing him just so they could kill him off 5 minutes later. i have mixed feelings on zavala's characterization but it's been a minute since i buried my face into the ishtar collective lore vault so maybe it's just my memory being unreliable. for him to just lose it and start acting irrationally like that felt odd. maybe it's bcs we havent seen him in a while? idk it just felt off. (tbf you could point out that it's probably a byproduct of being forced to relive one of the most unpleasant moments of his entire life so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ fear and desperation can make people do strange things) ikora was cool, idk she didn't read as ooc or anything to me, her reunion with cayde was very sweet, though in hindsight i wish they'd given her a little more to do. seasonal stuff has struggled to give consistency to crow but i appreciate this expansion's efforts to tie up some of those threads more neatly. (i lost it when he pulled out an iron battleaxe, i did not expect that plot point to get touched on!! also it was cool!) i am still irritated that they fridged amanda ( i ignored that part of canon so hard it kinda smacked me in the face when they mentioned her.) i love luzaku, and i would kill for luzaku. ( finally! friendly hive!) i did like the emphasis on ghost and guardian relationships throughout the expansion's story. (also ghost as the location vendor!!!! having regular chats with him while we go through the story!!! the fact he becomes increasingly damaged and wounded throughout the campaign giving me the distinct dread that he might die!!!)

the fact the traveler is letting out intermittent shrieks of pain... MAN... the return of the glowing bird as our guide! (also the fact that the grenade projectile for song of flame looks like a bird... i dont think they're actually connected but it is giving me Ideas.) speaking of song of flame, i kind of expected it to be more underwhelming than it is?? it's actually pretty fun! prismatic is a lot of fun to mess around with! nothing like throwing a storm grenade at an enemy to simultaneously proc devour and amplify. the speaker mask exotic is also giving me Ideas >:) i lost my shit when they mentioned Micah-10. she's one of the last lore characters i expected them to pull out of the hat but i am delighted to see her in game, and seemingly as more than just a cameo too, as far as i can tell. pretty ambivalent abt the whole "player character is the most powertful being in the universe and the chosen one" thing. it's kinda where i figured they'd take it and i dont hate the trope so eh whatever. im glad they actually gave me cover for some of these story missions. i did not super enjoy lightfall's strategy of throwing me in a room with one million guys and a few tiny scraps of cover. ( the radial mast double tank fight... *shudders* ) difficulty wise legendary wasn't all that painful, there were a few fights i struggled with, but a change of loadout, or a little trial and error was pretty much all i needed. i def understand why they've saved the witness fight for the raid, but if my raiding history is anything to got by im certainly not doing day one, but that doesn't mean ill never touch it. (ive missed most of the newer raids, im just not that much of a people person.) ill try and take some day 1 screenshots of the opening area at least. also wrt post campaign!! i loved playing projectile tennis with savathun. all the two queens stuff was great tbh sav is such a fun villian. like yes!! you do owe us nothing and are only going to swoop in to help us bcs we have a bigger threat to deal with!! we can go back to trying to outscheme eachother once this is over!! ( also hey, they brought back adventures! i thought they'd never do that!) also what ive played of the crode camping trip (i forgot the mission name) has been fun. just me and the bois, out exploding screebs. ( then the game crashed so i guess i gotta go play that again lmao) overall i think this expansion is pretty good! i havent even gotten to the seasonal stuff yet, much less some of the regular patrol stuff for the pale heart.

[cdragons]

Truce Part 2

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Pairing(s): Ikaris x Persephone!Reader Word Count: 1.8k Prompt/Summary: Part 2 of Truce Miniseries! Warning: Neurodivergent reader is neurodivergent, Hecate!Reader bestie is her own warning, Ikaris was kind of a douche Note: Thank you to everyone who takes the times to read my writing even through it is likely way too self-indulgent to be considered in-character! Special thank you to the most amazing and incredible beta editor in the world, @valeskafics! If you have not, please go check her works! She mostly does HOTD, GOT, anything Ewan Mitchell, and literally EVERYTHING she writes is incredible! Also a HUGE shoutout and thank you to @ethereal-athalia, who is literally my psychic soulmate when it came to thinking of literally ANYTHING for this AU! She was a major part in figuring out the plot and events of this world, and provided me so many ideas that I would not have been able to create any of these works for Sephia and Kaetlyn if it weren't for her help.

As moments passed since Kaetlyn and Druig left together, hand-in-hand, Ikaris was caught up in the sudden realization that he was now alone in a very public courtyard of the Hanging Gardens with you.

And with each moment passing, it was brought to his attention that he hadn’t even the slightest clue of how to act around you, let alone what to say.

“Fuck,” he thought, “this is getting awkward.”

Noticing your friend’s shift in demeanor, you immediately assumed that his discomfort must have been caused by your sudden appearance. So, you attempted to remove yourself from his company so to not cause him any further distress.

“Um, Ikaris,” you started, “if you had other engagements, I really don’t mind walking back to the Domo myself. I know that Kaety sort of pushed me to you, and I don’t want to make you uncom-”

But Ikaris quickly interjected with so much panic that his voice actually cracked, “NO!” Upon hearing his own voice, he flushed in embarrassment before clearing his throat before continuing, “I mean – no – I don’t mind at all.” Not wanting to further embarrass himself in front of the women who held his heart, he shut himself up before he could continue to stammer like an idiot.

“Thank Arishem that Druig and Kaetlyn are not here to witness me in my current state,” he thought to himself, “I would never be able to live with the humiliation.”

Staring at the man before you, you took advantage of the silence to take in all his features. It was a rare sight to see Ikaris so flustered, especially when one considered the sheer number of Deviants he’s killed is only rivaled by Thena and Kaet. You ended up letting out a very unattractive snort as a small grin crept up the corners of your mouth, and upon seeing Ikaris’ perplexed reaction, you couldn’t help continuing to laugh at his very evident confusion.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” you tried to explain, “I am not laughing at you-well, I suppose I am laughing at you, but it is not so much you that I am laughing at, but the situation.” You could hardly breathe with how hard your body shook in hysterics, leaving your explanation much to be desired by the Eternal whose confusion only increased at your reasoning.

Raising a singular eyebrow, Ikaris’ expression was a mixture of equal measures of distress and incredulity as he was forced to witness to the love of his immortal life laugh at him. Scoffing in response, he couldn’t help but comment with a slightly bitter tone, “Forgive me if I find that very hard to believe at the moment.”

“No, no, no- I promise,” you tried to explain. Taking a deep breath, you finally stopped laughing while still maintaining a bright smile that cause Ikaris’ body to flush for a very different reason, “Alright, I’m very sorry, that was rude of me. It’s just that- I’m not so used to you being so…not you?”

With a deadpan expression, mouth lines pursed together to further showcase his lack of amusement, he decided to at least hear you out, “Go on?”

“It’s just that,” you paused to find your voice, “I’m not used to seeing you act so different from yourself. You’re usually so overly confident and can be a bit arrogant. So, seeing you flustered and a bit vulnerable, it’s nice! It makes me feel closer to you. And it makes me so happy seeing this way now, compared to how you were at the beginning.”

Ikaris let out a massive groan while pinching his nose bridge. He knew that you had no intention of offending him, but it pained him in hearing your early opinion of him several millennia ago. Despite your shy personality, you were brutally honest and straightforward. A lesson he learned the hard way and a little late to his embarrassment.

He could still feel the sting on his face after you slapped him for his insensitive comments toward your powers, and the role you played in humanity. Ikaris was immediately struck dumb by your temper. Despite being a thinker, you had the ferocity of a fighter. The events that followed the uproar caused an immediate shift in dynamics amongst the fighters. Kaetlyn practically made it her life’s mission to make Ikaris’ life beyond insufferable. She and her shadows played a number of cruel pranks that would scare the life of any human. If it weren’t for his superior physical durability and strength, Ikaris was sure that he would be knocking on death’s door with each passing day. Ashamed to admit it, it took several attempts for you to truly forgive him.

The first could at best be described as a reluctant admission of harsh words that were exchanged, along with the guilt of how Ikaris’ words made you feel. It goes without saying that you were less than pleased, and refused to even pretend that his meager words were sufficient enough to even qualify as an apology.

The second time was when Ikaris approached you whilst you were instructing the humans on how to properly harvest and store the crops as food storage in preparation for the off-seasons. Try as he did, you refused to even spare him a glance as you remained steadfast in your work to prepare the Earth for the bountiful gifts it provided to humans as a result of your tender care.

The third time could not really qualify as an apology, as Ikaris was fed up with your attitude despite his multiple attempts of reconciliation. Outright demanding that you stop your childish behavior, he was struck dumb by your cool composure. In a steady voice, you explained that he had never once showed genuine remorse for his behavior, only how you felt. As a result, he made no action to change his actions, and continued to behave as if he were superior to you. Even when Ajak tried to conciliate, she was promptly stopped by Kaetlyn physically stepping in front of her; and in a low tone, she warned their leader of the unspoken consequences should she intervene. You proceeded to express your displeasure with him by further announcing that you had no interest in being forced to endure the company of someone whose only interest in her work was so that he would have an easier time to seduce Sersi. When you were done, you swiftly turned away to your quarters, eager to put as much distance as possible between you and him.

Kaetlyn followed after you, but not before snickering at the stupefied expression on Ikaris’ face. She certainly lived for the moments where the man’s overwhelming hubris got him in trouble.

It was the most mortifying experience in Ikaris’ existence. Being Ajak’s second-in-command, he was unused to the idea of being questioned, let alone outright dismissed. To bear witness to your fire, you both humbled and ensnared him with your words. And on that day, he was determined to make a true effort in gaining your loyalty and friendship. Upon changing his ways, you graciously gave him another chance, albeit still keeping him at arm’s length. But he had never been so grateful for his decision, as it marked the start of a friendship between mutual respect. And if he dared to hope, perhaps it could possibly lead to more.

Taking in his embarrassment, you decided that you’ve teased Ikaris enough, and wanted to make amends.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized- hoping to keep the atmosphere light and not spiraling to depressing, “Please, let me make it up to you! I packed a picnic for me and Kaety to share, but since she’s- OH NO!” Your sweet tone shifted to distress as the realization that the basket that carried all the products of your labor and research was carried by your friend, who was now long gone to who knows where with her telepathic lover.

Seeing your afflicted expression sent warning signs to flash across Ikaris’ mind, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The picnic basket! I forgot that Kaety was the one carrying it! She wanted to test out a new spell she learned from Lady Frigga!” Your eyes were filled with agony at your absent-mindfulness, now how were you to make it up to Ikaris?

“Sephia, I don’t understand. Why is the basket so important?” Ikaris was sure that there was nothing dangerous enough that would possibly cause so much worry, but he never knew with you and Kaetlyn.

“That basket was filled with crops that I personally cultivated in my lab at the Domo! I was planning to show them to Kaety so that she could taste them, and we would discuss how to possibly integrate them into their lifestyle! I even had Gilgamesh’s help in preparing some of the dishes with the new herbs and spices I developed to be paired with the vegetation!”

Taking a slight pause to gather your thoughts, Ikaris was enthralled at the pink tint blooming on your cheeks as you stammered out your next words, “And- well- I figured that since Kaety would now be spending the day with Druig, I thought that it would be nice if I could share them with you as an apology for laughing earlier. And, I figured that it would be a good idea for you to taste them. Since- well, I do value your opinion- since that- you are my friend.”

Touched that you trusted his opinion of all people on a matter so important to you, Ikaris immediately softened his tone as he walked forward to grasp your shoulders, and lowered himself to face you at eye-level.

“Sephia,” he whispered out- his rich accent was so warm but somehow leaving you with chills- “you have no idea how honored it would make me to try your creations. But you don’t need to apologize for anything. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” Tracing his hands from your shoulders, down your arms, and stopping to grasp your hands, “Whether you like to believe it or not, I do know you enough to know that you aren’t the kind of person to intentionally ridicule others at their own expense.”

Despite melting at your Ikaris’ comforting statement, you still felt a twinge of guilt stubbornly creeping into your heart. Summoning all the courage in your heart, you stood on the tips of your toes to ask something a bit forward for your standards.

“Ikaris,” you breathily purred out, “come with me to my room.”

Taken back, Ikaris thought that his mind had conjured up your voice. Jumping back to look into your eyes, only to see that you were completely serious.

“Sweet Sephia,” he thought out, “you will be the death of me.”

Tagging: @valeskafics, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @asa-do-your-thing, @vikingqueen28, @justmymindandstuff, @spacetalbot, @beananacake, @grimbunnie, @bellamys-girls, @lex-g-t, @mimireaken, @futureartpresaon, @spacetalbot, @beananacake, @its-actually-minicika, @junopur, @vikingqueen28, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @allisonoops12, @bibissparkles, @karimac

ps: if I bolded your name, I couldn't find the link (sorry)

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