#VIVA LA OLD MEN!!!!

[luuxxart]

almost forgot to post my comic for the @onedayakeshuake here !!!!

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[downtownbunnybaby]

candid of me girlblogging

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 10:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Miscommunication, angst.

A/N: Sorry this one is so short! I promise the action and excitement will be back next chapter! 😁

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“Wait!” Hunter called out, standing up to follow you down the ramp, “I can explain!”

He rushed to the door, determined to follow you down the ramp, but he paused, feeling Echo’s hand on his shoulder.

“I’d give her a bit,” he advised. Hunter sighed and sat back down.

“Well that went well.” Tech clapped a hand to Hunter’s shoulder, then pushed his goggles further up on his face as he turned back to the cockpit to finish up the project he’d been working on.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Wrecker got off his bunk, “Hunter and Tara?”

Hunter sighed. “No! It’s not like that! I mean…”

Echo put his hand on Omega’s shoulder, attempting to direct her back to her room.

“Then what is it like, Hunter?” Omega asked, pushing Echo’s hand from her.

Hunter felt his chest tighten as he saw the hurt on her face. “It’s nothing, Omega. Go to your room.”

Omega crossed her arms, making no move to obey the command. “No! It’s not nothing! She obviously likes you and…” she paused to take a breath, looking down, “...and I thought you liked her too!”

“I do like her Omega… it’s just complicated. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Omega frowned at him. “I’m old enough.” she said defiantly. “You taught me that communication with your squad is important.”

Hunter didn’t respond, he knew she was right.

Omega sighed in frustration. “This is why we talk to each other, Hunter! You should’ve told her!”

“I know, Omega. I messed up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not all your fault, you know.” she said softer, putting a hand on his knee.

“She’s right,” Echo chimed in, “We all need to do better at communicating with each other.”

“Yeah…” agreed Wrecker, and turned back to Hunter.

“Really? Tara? Huh… gotta say I didn't expect that.”

Hunter glared. “I told you it wasn't like that. I was putting away some supplies and she came onto me, okay? She had a few too many drinks after the mission on Dantooine. She came onto me, started feeling me up and kissing me. Caught me by surprise and I pushed her away, told her I wasn't interested.”

Wrecker whistled “Damn, you're a popular man these days.” He chuckled, “I totally woulda let Tara kiss me.”

Echo elbowed him, “Not helping, Wrecker…”

“Oh. Sorry, Hunter.”

“It’s fine, Wreck.”

Echo gave Hunter a sympathetic look before retreating to the cockpit as well to help with repairs. The last mission had been hard on the Marauder as well as the mood of the team.

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[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

The Blue Eyed Bandit

When a wanna-be cowboy rides in all the way from Tennessee, he’s laughed out of town, but Y/N can see something in him that others can’t, especially when their town becomes the target of ruthless gang of bandits.

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader

(Cowboy!Au, Angst, Fluff)

5.9k Words

Warnings: Extremely suggestive content, prostitution, flirting, drinking, bar fights, guns, stalking, blood, wound care, knives, makeouts, hickeys, description of injury, gun sucking, degredation, groping, (attempted) kidnapping

An: I’ve wanted to write a story about Johnny as a cowboy for a while XD This was inspired by a lot of things, but especially the Mexico episode of Viva la Bam! I specificly wrote this story to be set in the ‘1850s, though it’s not explicitly stated. I did more research for this fic than any other I’ve written before, on topics from wound care to desert fruits and breeds of horses! It was super fun to write so please let me know if you would be interested in something similar to this in the future!!

You were lucky. It’s odd to say that working as a prostitute in a parlor house would be the luckier of any number of options, but it was. Leaning against the dry, rotting wooden post that held up the roofed porch of Madame Evette’s Gentleman Parlor, your current place of board and employment, you rolled this idea of luck around your mind. There’s always worse options, like that brothel up the road that had half its staff wiped out in the last smallpox outbreak. Working here, you always had a hot meal, warm baths, proper living quarters, health insurance, and much more reputable clients. In fact, you had started to get familiar with your regulars because nobody new ever seemed to come there. Looking out at the high, sandy bluffs that framed the desolate, arid New Mexico landscape, you realized that this was a town that new people didn't want to come to, but whose citizens seemed to want to leave by any means.

Lost in thought, you hardly noticed when a man walked up to the creaky railing you were leaning against until he tipped his hat at you with a warm, half smile, “Howdy, ma’am.” It shocked you how cordial he acted to you of all people. Still, you met his eyes. “Hi.” You recognized him- one week ago, this wanna-be cowboy from out east rode into here of all places to pursue his wild west fantasy, and he was already the laughingstock of the town. Still, you humored him a little, “What can I do ya for?” While he was a little dorky, you recognized the charming air he had about him that none of your other clients seemed to possess as he made conversation, “Well, I was under the assumption that this is the place for a gentleman like myself to find some company and,” Holding out his palm flat to take yours, he spoke low and with an accent you couldn’t quite place, “I would be delighted to be graced with yours.” Part of you assumed this was some sort of cruel trick he was pulling, treating a woman like you as a common lady, but you gave him your hand anyways.

Just then, the Madame caught sight of this through the window and swiftly came storming outside with a broom, “Keep those dirty paws away from my girls!” The commotion seemed to draw a good deal of attention as some of the girls inside peered out the door in various states of undress to giggle at the spectacle going down on the porch, and then there was you, caught in the middle of all this. “This is a proper establishment! You can take those dusty boots of yours down to the whorehouse across the street!” She chased him out into the streets, and there went the cowboy, ducking down an alleyway, laughing to himself.

You and the rest of the girls spent the evening lounging about the well furnished parlor, drinking wine in your garters and stockings while you entertained tonight’s men. Despite what people may think, your interactions with patrons didn’t start in the bedroom- there’s some drinking and singing and fraternizing one would usually have to get past before the fun stuff started. But the whole time you were chatting up the fat cat town banker while he puffed away at his cigar, you couldn’t help but think back to your interaction with that cowboy from earlier. There was something different in the way he treated you- how he saw you compared to how the rest of the town did. Most of the men you tended to wouldn’t be caught dead in your presence outside of this place, but he felt no shame in the slightest to interact with you. In fact, he seemed to have taken a liking to you. The thought made your chest feel warm.

Then, out of the blue, there was this great commotion outside, loud enough to rattle the crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Oh. This couldn’t be an earthquake- earthquakes aren’t usually accompanied by the whip cracking sounds of gunfire. Oh. This had to be a saloon fight gone bad. You nearly fell to the ground as everyone in the parlor flooded out the front door for a chance to bear witness to this spectacle, and of course you followed shortly behind because while you were a lady, you were never one to miss a good fight. There was always something or other going on in this town, whether it be a shootout or a bank robbery, so most people were sort of desensitized to it at this point. Dashing out onto the dusty streets, all indigo from the night, so many people crowded into the little tavern next door that you would’ve thought the cheap wooden floors would’ve given out from sheer weight. The place was buzzing. You weaseled in, squirming past people. At first, all you could see over the heads of those in front of her was the town bartender Steve, the one with the shaved head, cautiously emerging from where he had ducked behind the counter, all pale under yellow lamplight. The bar in front of him was completely splintered and half of the bottles that sat behind it were shattered, sticky amber liquid draining down the walls and to the floor. The whole thing was pretty damn tragic- you knew Steve, and by extension knew how he had been busting his behind, having practically built this place from the ground up and kept it running with only a couple saloon girls for help. It was his way of fulfilling a passion you always found to be pretty selfless: making people happy. Albeit, it was through alcohol and cheap bar tricks, he still took it seriously, like it was his baby, and in one moment it was destroyed.

As you squirmed closer to the front of the crowd, that’s when you caught it. A blur of mauve then step on a chair, step on a table- crash! A man leapt out of a window with an armful of cash, green bills fluttering in the air with the sparkling shower of glass. Immediately, you recognized him, but anyone in town could with one look at that purple mink duster with the strange heart symbol on the back that hung from his shoulders or with a glance at that face that was just made for wanted posters. But just like that, he disappeared into the night. And there, on the floor at the feet of the people who had front row seats to all this, was the cowboy from earlier, and he did not look good. Well, he looked good, but he looked unwell, especially with the slowly growing red stain on his shirtfront. “My, my, my…you gotta deathwish, boy? Or are you just plain stupid?” A man standing at the front of the crowd glowered down at him like he was horseshit on his shoe, “Ana’body five miles round’d know not to mess with them bandits.” If it wasn't bad enough, he had picked a fight with the leader of the meanest gang of ruffians in the west, this ruthless fellow that went by the name Bam on account of all the chaos he caused wherever he set foot and that subtleness wasn't necessarily his style. Of course he didn’t know what he was getting into, but the bandit king was gone, and everyone had forgotten about the cowboy that was still bleeding on the hardwood, so you ran over to the bar for a wet towel. Still shaken up, Steve handed you the bar cloth he was unconsciously gripping and, as the townspeople filtered out, you went to tend to the man in the ground.

“Whats’re name, cowboy?” It was pity that urged you to help him, surely. As you peeled away the dark cloth that stuck to his skin, his chest rose with heavy breaths. He watched with half lidded eyes as you dabbed away the blood that was steadily trickling from where he was grazed with a bullet, swallowing as your hands ghosted over a faded tattoo of a woman’s name on his chest before he murmured in a voice still hoarse, “Johnny.” Smiling softly, you finished up cleaning his wound, “Well, what you did back there was mighty brave, Johnny.” Now that you got a look at him, you couldn’t deny that he was a pretty well shaped young man. Cracking an exhausted grin, he let out a labored chuckle, still polite despite the circumstances, “Well thank’y, ma’am.” Gazing up at you with those blood loss dazed eyes, Johnny murmured, a little embarrassed, “I’d invite you back to mine, but I don't think it’d be your style, considering. I, uh- I’ve been sleepin’ in the horse stables for the past week…” There was something undeniably endearing about that fact. You helped him to stand as you went to pull yourself up, “Well, what about tomorrow? We could have lunch together.” Stumbling to his feet, Johnny drawled, “That sounds like a fine idea.”

So you dressed up nice that Sunday in a dress you “borrowed” from one of the other girls that worked at the parlor with you- this vibrant pink dress, the color of ripe red pitaya fruit. The usually lively streets of the town were deserted on Sunday mornings, and since you avoided leaving the parlor during the day due to the looks you got on the street, Sundays were the only day you really went out for fresh air. Johnny was already waiting for you in front of the bar, still in the same clothes as yesterday, bloodstains and all. Seeing you fully dressed for the first time in a sort of ‘you clean up well’ moment, he looked you up and down before a smile crept onto his lips, “Why aren’t you at church?” You shrugged, “I ain’t exactly the churchgoing type, and if I was, they don’t take too well to my kind. You?” The two of you began to walk down the dusty streets, the midday sun beating down and warming your skin. Johnny walked in step with you, inching a little closer, “Well, neither am I.”

You ended up at this little oasis up on a hill at the outskirts of town- one of the few green places left in this god forsaken place. Sitting down on the grass under a Blue Jacaranda tree, you set your woven basket that you carried the food in down and you caught Johnny nearly drooling as you opened it. It was all food you found lying around the parlor- fluffy pink and white conchas, warm boiled esquites, and a package of salt pork wrapped in brown paper and twine. Handing him one of the pastries, he tore into it like a starved man. Noticing your surprise at his eagerness, Johnny stopped himself and added bashfully, “Sorry…In- In all truth, ma’am, I’ve been livin’ off’a bar peanuts for the past few days…” It was believable- that cowboy was looking mighty thin. Of course, he went right back to eating.

The two of you talked for a while. He told you all about the mishaps that happened to him on his journey there all the way from Tennessee, a part of the old Southwest territory, and about how before he realized he wanted to move out west to pursue his cowboy dreams, he was a writer for his town’s newspaper. There was no shortage of stories with this man, and you couldn’t complain because he spoke with this vividness to his words that just captivated you. Johnny asked you about what it’s like in your line of work. You told him that you grew up on a farm and came here for a better life, some life that turned out to be. But as long as you had a clean bed to sleep in and warm meals, you’d be pretty content.

“So,” You started after a silence, “How’s that wound healin’ up?” Swallowing what was in his mouth, Johnny loostend the top few buttons of his shirt and pulled the collar to the side over his bicep, exposing the half scabbed over pink flesh. Maybe it was just an excuse to touch his chest, the intimacy made more so that you were leaning over his body as he sat up on his elbows, looking down at you. Fighting back a blush from creeping onto your cheeks, you blinked and met his eyes, “It, uh…doesn’t look infected, no.” As you pulled away, your gaze lingered on his still open shirt, “Is that your woman’s name- on your chest?” Johnny glanced down at the name scrawled on his tan skin, “Nah. S’my daughter’s.” Never in your days could you imagine a man as young as him a father. Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “So she’s waitin’ for you with your lady back home?” Shaking his head, he smiled gently as if remembering something fondly, “Oh, no- my little girl’s all grown up. And my wife,” he wiped some crumbs off of the side of his mouth, his voice falling a little serious, “well, she left me ‘bout a year ago this November.” You asked for an inch and he gave you a mile. At this point, you couldn’t deny that you were interested in him, but you still maintained your stuff demeanor, “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” Glancing up at the sky, you shielded your eyes with your hand, “S’noon. Church should be letting out soon.”

Conversation was light as you walked back in town and he dropped you off at the parlor like a gentleman. You made a resolution that this would be routine- outcasts like you needed to stick together after all, or at least that was what Johnny said. It was cute, in a way, all this wisdom he had. As the two of you were chatting as you passed an alleyway, you saw something out of the corner of your eyes- this dark figure and a glint of something diamond blue that sent chills down your spine. But when you turned to take a second look, the shadow disappeared.

That next morning, you and some of the other girls were relaxing on the porch in your frilly underclothes and chatting because you had no clients and, in your line of work, that is what you call advertising. Every now and then a man passing by would whistle at you and you’d have to go up to the rail and flirt with them a little, standing just where you did on that day you first ran into Johnny. His plight still occupied your mind. Poor guy- his daughter left him and so did his wife. He’s probably a very lonely man. Before you could get to thinking about how you would be more than happy to help him out a little with that loneliness, your attention was drawn elsewhere. It seemed that you were too slow to notice the panicked looks and the people starting to make themselves scarce until a hush fell over the street and the air was so tense you could cut it with a knife. Just as you could’ve sworn you could hear yourself sweat, that’s when you saw him.

This hulking, dark mass looked like a vulture on the prowl as he sulked past a roadside fruit stand. There was no question who this was. Your blood ran cold at the dark chuckle that reverberated through the bandit king’s throat at the poor, shivering man who owned the stand as Bam snatched something out of one of the baskets full of fruit, not bothering to pay for it. He was subtle and silent there, something nobody had ever known him to be. Flicking his Bowie knife out of its leather sheath, the silver blade glimmered under the hot southwestern sun like sparkling hot oil as he wasted no time carving the skin off of that pitaya fruit. Though his eyes were concealed under the shadow of the brim of his hat, you felt Bam’s chilling gaze on you from that predatory grin he wore as sticky, red juices bubbled up around the Damascus steel, smearing across his blade and dribbling down his fingers. As if to emphasize a point, he dropped the now discarded peel to the ground and brought the knife to his lips, a serpent-like tongue flicking out to lap at the last traces of sweet nectar from the sharp, glinting edge.

And he smiled at you.

A cool wind blew through the air as you and Johnny sat down at the top of the hill that Sunday. “You know, ma’am,” Sitting with his legs out, cowhide boots stretched out in front of him on the grass, he turned to you, “I never caught your name- your real one, I mean.” Glancing up from the basket, you shook yourself from your thoughts of your encounter with Bam that last week, swallowing before you replied, “It’s, uh- it’s Y/N.” A warm smile spread across his face as you spoke, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “Y/N. That is a mighty beautiful name.” That warm feeling- that same feeling as before, swelled up in your chest as you stared out onto the golden desert that seemed to stretch on for miles in the early morning sun. “Johnny.” You cleared your throat, “Is this how you expected it to go? Life, I mean.” God knows that you didn’t. You came here looking for a better life. What a sham that was. It was rare that you really got to feeling sorry for yourself, but sometimes, and especially after what happened, it was hard. Feeling nauseated, you hadn’t touched a crumb of the food you brought for the both of you, while Johnny had eagerly gotten through more than half the basket by the time you spoke up. “If you’re askin’ me if I thought I’d end up a cowboy, traveling the land and rightin’ wrongs, I would say yes.” He added hurriedly, a little embarrassed, “But, so far in this town, that ain’t exactly what I’ve been doin’...”

“So, you’re not gonna stay?” Unconsciously, you had inched just a little closer to him, nearly laying your head on his shoulder as the two of you talked. This clearly didn’t pass under Johnny’s notice as his voice fell sweet like honey against your ears, “Well, I didn’t say that. What I mean is, “ He turned toward you slightly, so close to your face that his lips nearly brushed against your cheek as he spoke in a low, slow voice, “all I’d need is a reason to stay.” You only then just noticed how, with the way your face was tilted towards his, your lips were nearly, almost touching. And then they did. But it felt nice- different from the sloppy men who had stolen kisses from you before. It felt soft, and natural. Almost upon contact, Johnny sat back with wide eyes, surprised at his own impulsive actions, “O-Oh lord…” His voice got real quiet, nearly wavering, as he blushed softly, “That may’ve been the least gentlemanly thing I’ve ever done.“

You stopped him, placing a hand against the soft fabric of his dark, half unbuttoned shirt front and leaning back in to gently press your lips to his, your eyelashes fluttering shut. Johnny’s warm muscles were initially tense under your touch but as he relaxed into the kiss, so did his body, letting out a soft groan against your lips. You had never made a man blush before, much less react so earnestly. Reaching out to you, the cowboy’s hands found purchase in your clothing, calloused fingers tangling into your calico dress as he hurriedly undid the brass buttons. Your heart fluttered in your chest and your head swam from the passion and desert heat as you started to think that this was maybe what love was supposed to be. Johnny’s breath came out in hot pants against your newly exposed skin as he hungrily sucked mauve blotches onto your neck and chest, his facial scruff tickling a little as he practically devoured you. But he was gentle with it. So sweet and gentle.

Nothing could have pulled Johnny away from you then, not even the gunshot that cracked out loud in the town below while the two of you were still caught up in the heat of the moment, so you were the one who had to pull his face away from your bosom by his hair. You could feel his breath fanning out against your skin as you sat up to get a better look at the commotion. Howling and cackling like twin coyotes, off rode the bandit king away with his fair haired cohort, arms full of loot from their latest hit- the town general store. They had swiped a small fortune in gunpowder, dynamite, and tobacco. Of course, this drew the townspeople away from church early, especially when one of the two young men who owned the store ran out, shouting and brandishing a shotgun. He fired three or four shells in their general direction, but his shots didn’t come near the hides of the bay mustangs nor the bandits that rode away on them, kicking up dust.

Johnny went back to the horse stables that night and realized just how much everything was looking up for him. He had a roof over his head, the favor of a lovely woman he would quite frankly lay down his life for, and hot meals every night courtesy of the man who owned the stable, a fellow by the name of Chris who he had gotten to know pretty well. In fact, besides the town bartender Steve, he was his only friend, but it was hard to count Steve as a friend because he was always tacking extra tequila shots onto Johnny’s tab while he distracted him with some trick he picked up in the circus. Still, he could let that slide because business was business. Chris, on the other hand, was just a sweet guy who loved horses, and he had taken such a liking to Johnny’s horse, Noami, that he let him sleep in her horse stall there free of charge.

So that explained why he was in the stables in the middle of the night, laying back against her shiny, chestnut coat as she slept with her head against his chest, snoring softly. Funnily enough, it was the horse sleeping against him that woke up first when a dark figure hopped the front gates into the stables. Blinking awake after she stood up, Johnny sat up curiously to catch sight of the silhouette opening stall doors. He thought about Chris- all those nights of charity and companionship, just for him to let some two bit their run off with his buddy’s pride and joy? Oh, no way in hell he was going to let that happen. A flash of emotions went through his mind as he threw himself to his feet and stood up to block the front gate. Johnny’s voice was nearly a growl as he gazed across at the bandit who was currently trying to make off with Jezebel, Chris’ prized palomino mare. “Y’aint leavin’ with her.” Though he didn’t initially recognize him, Johnny put two and two together quickly.

Bam was dead quiet, only visible as the tombstone shape he made in the darkness as he got low, light glinting off of the silver spurs affixed to his heels. Then, all at once it was as if the cowboy had taken a steam engine to the solar plexus, while in actuality it was a black suede wrapped fist that had knocked the air from his lungs. Still, Johnny stayed on his feet, coughing hard and hitting him with a poorly placed uppercut that knocked that hat clean off of his head. Bam sputtered, his mouth now bloodied and dripping onto the sand as he ducked down, taking a step to the side as his right hand reached for the gun afixed to his hip. It was no wonder the bandit king would fight dirty. Before Johnny could duck away, cold steel collided with his orbital bone in a skillfully placed pistol whip and he was knocked out cold. As the cowboy’s body fell limp to the ground, Bam huffed and spun his trusty piece around a finger before slotting it back in its leather holster, shooting a look at the man below him that spelled out that his resistance would not go unpunished.

When Johnny woke up, the first person to come to his aid was the stable owner himself. Chris picked him up under the armpits, lugging his half awake self over to a wooden chair in a corner and leaving him there as he went to fetch some medical supplies from his home next door, leaving the door open as midday sun flooded in. Blinking awake, the first thing Johnny did was look around to see if maybe what had happened last night was a bad dream and that the horse was still waiting in her stable, which was especially hard given the purple swelling around his left eye, but her stall door was wide open from the previous night. As Chris returned with a leather medical bag, Johnny coughed, his voice gravelly, “He- he got away with Jezebel…” This was a low point for him. It seemed that no matter how or when he tried to intervene, there was nothing this cowboy could do, even for the man who had shown him such charity. Kneeling down and threading catgut sutures onto the curved needle, Chris seemed forlorn, yes, but there was an appreciative inflection to his voice as he stitched up the split in Johnny’s cheek, “But he could’ve gotten away with a lot more if you weren't here. I’d say that makes you a hero in my book!” Turning it over in his head, he decided that maybe he had a point with that, but he still wasn't going to tell Y/N. She didn’t need to know. As the needle pierced the cowboy’s skin, he winced, sucking a breath in through his teeth. As Johnny peered down at the dried blood that certainly wasn't his that still remained on his knuckles, he swallowed hard, his voice still tense and very grave, “I’ll get’re back for you. Promise.”

So you heard no word of the stolen horses the next morning and went about your day without a care in the world, tending to clients as usual. You were especially busy that night, feverishly going from man to man, doing your thing and racking up quite a sum in commissions from all the whiskey you pawned off. In fact, you were so focused that you nearly jumped when you heard your name, “Y/N.” Madame Evette tapped you on the shoulder, drawing your attention away from the client you were currently entertaining, “Room seven. There’s a gentleman waitin’ for you upstairs.” It struck you as odd because while men who wanted to skip all the fluff wasn't that uncommon, it didn’t happen every night. Apologizing to the fellow you were talking to with a red lipsticked kiss on the cheek, you turned to hurry up the creaky staircase, making clicky noises against the wood in your little heeled boots.

Wandering down the hall of rooms upstairs, you cracked open the door of room seven to darkness inside from a put out lantern. Oh, poor guy- he must be shy. That makes the whole no canoodling thing make more sense. As you closed the door behind you, you noticed that there was just enough light from the moon trickling in the open window that you could still see a general outline of the man sitting in the wooden chair at the far corner of the room with his knees about a mile apart as you approached him, doing your little flirty routine, “So, what can I do ya’ for, handsome?” Wordlessly, the figure gestured down with two fingers and you knew what he was asking for, especially after he shifted his hips to sit lower in the chair with a huff. Getting onto your knees, you positioned yourself between his thighs, the floor chilling the skin of your bare legs. Reaching out, you started to undo his pants, and while the downstairs parlor was consistently noisy, the soft metallic clinking of a belt buckle was the only noise in the otherwise silent room. Your lips fell open and your eyes suddenly went wide at the sudden, unmistakable ice cold feeling against your forehead.

It was the muzzle of a revolver. The voice that rumbled out of the man above you was nearly a snarl as he spoke through his teeth, “You make one peep an’ I swear to god,” he pressed the tip harder against your head for emphasis and you could swear you heard a smirk in his voice, “I’m puttin’ this bullet in your fuckin’ skull.” Your heartbeat pounded in your ribcage as you felt your head swim and you thought that this is what it feels like to be a jackrabbit caught in the jaws of a coyote. Quivering, your gaze nervously trailed up his body, and you could feel the color drain from your face when your sight fell upon his glinting, all too familiar vulture eyes, flickering like blue hot steel. Click. The bandit king slowly pulled back on the hammer, his hand so close to your face you could see his fingers curl around the mother of pearl handle and read the words etched into the barrel as he tightened his grip with his finger on the trigger. And he chuckled this deep, predatory laugh, grinning down at you with a mouth full of fangs as he spoke slow, deliberately, “Now you’re gonna stand up nice n’ slow with those hands b’hind yer back- and you are gonna be real quiet.” Frozen in fear, you couldn’t move under the shadow that looked over you even if you wanted to keep your brain inside your skull, which you really, really did. “Y’takin’ me fr’a fool, whore?” Bam’s thick accent deepened with agitation as he spit his words, nearly barking, “I said,”

“Stand. Up.” A gloved hand roughly tangled in your hair and yanked you up on shaky deer legs, forcing you to weakly comply much to his satisfaction with the gun still snugly pressed against your forehead. Standing maybe six inches away from you, you picked up on the distinct scent of alcohol and tobacco on his breath. With how his gaze lingered at your lips, you could tell he was getting an idea of something else he could do with that gun, but he just nodded, relenting just slightly at your compliance, “That’s it, girl. Now turn around.” Standing up after you, Bam jabbed the revolver between your shoulder blades making you arch your back as he harshly grabbed your wrists and deftly bound them with the red bandana he wore around his neck. Pulling the gun away from your spine for a second, a warning shot cracked out through the ceiling that made you jump, your eyes nearly bugging out of your skull in fear as you yelped. But your terror was funny- so damn funny to Bam as he pushed you along, the burning hot muzzle returning to where it once was.

The scene downstairs was absolute chaos after that bullet went through the ceiling. Startled patrons and half clothed women scrambled outside, flooding into the streets and attracting quite a bit of attention, especially from the cowboy that was lingering outside the horse stables before he was set to retire for the night. Even though every instinct in him told him to stay away based on the outcome of his previous heroic efforts, Johnny’s body lurched forward almost involuntarily, dashing towards the chaos that Madame Evette’s Gentleman Parlor had become. Pushing past frightened patrons, he stormed in right as Bam was walking you down the staircase as you stumbled in front of him. Your panic-stricken eyes met Johnny’s (or at least, the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut) as he stared at the scene in front of him, his tone stern but his fear giving way to a trace of vulnerability in his voice after he swallowed hard, “Let her go.” The man behind you tugged you back hard by your bound wrists as the gun relocated to your temple, wedging you in place between the weapon and where the bandit king rested his head on your shoulder, nuzzling against your cheek. “Oh, no way…” Bam held eye contact with Johnny as purred into your ear, speaking melodically as he taunted both you and him, “I gotch’re woman…an’ I don’t feel like givin’ her back.” Adding insult to injury, with his torso pressed snug against your back in a crude imitation of intimacy, his free hand, which was sitting on your hip, slid up your body posessively, reaching to roughly fondle your chest as he let out a low, predatory growl, his gaze challenging the cowboy across from him.

If you could’ve seen the white hot fury in Johnny’s eyes. Blinded by rage, he didn’t even consider using the pistol tucked into his holster, instead lunging to tackle Bam to the ground. You slipped out of his tight grasp just in time, clamoring to safety on your hands and knees on the hardwood floor as the cowboy just wailed on the guy. The struggle between the two was like watching two bighorn sheep with their horns locked in conflict, a blur of instinct and emotion, all rabid and teeth and fists. Letting out shuddering breaths, all you could do was watch the violent scene in front of you with your heart pounding out of your chest, not daring to move an inch. The only thing that could’ve pulled Johnny off of the man beneath him was when the town sheriff stormed in, grabbing him by the back of his shirt collar and throwing him off of the bandit king, or what was left of him as he lay limp on the ground. He was beaten to a pulp, almost literally- just a wheezing, bubbling mess of blood and bruising with a few teeth missing. Pulling Bam up by his sweat soaked black curls, Sheriff Tremaine held him to dangle in the air, glaring at the man in his hand with unadulterated disgust, “You’n you’re little gang’re goin’ away for a while.” There was no doubt that he had witnessed the brutality the cowboy inflicted, especially with the blood still dripping off of his still raw knuckles, but it seemed that he would let it slide this time, glancing to you and Johnny and tipping his hat, “We’re gonna get to roundin’ up the rest’a these bandits.”

Without a proper leader, the most fearsome gang of criminals in the west were left with nothing to hold them together, letting the sheriff's men easily pick them off and throw them in the slammer where they rightfully belonged. Life, for once in that godforsaken town, was peaceful. And Johnny? Well, after he was credited as the man who took down the bandits, he was hailed as the town hero, especially after he helped rebuild the bar and returned Jezebel to her stall at the town stables. Even Madame Evette had taken a liking to him, permitting him to come and go to the parlor whenever he felt the need to visit you- on the condition that he got a new pair of boots.

[sophiasharp]

I think I might be the sole target audience for this but

The Papas during Lobster Mini-Season

Primo

Designated boat driver

Really good sense of direction, helps a lot when it comes to keeping track of old hot spots

Can also cheat and just magic his way into figuring out where all the lobster are hiding. Don’t tell the regulars, they’ll be pissed

Enjoys singing along to the radio while his brothers do most of the actual catching

Goes out again when the rest have their fill to his own secret spots. Enjoys some peace and quiet, taking his time catching his limit. He refuses to tell his brothers where he goes and it pisses them off to no end lol

Secondo

Beach! Bum! Secondo! My! Beloved!

More of a Vegas guy but still LOVES him some ocean time, especially in The Keys. Viva La Conch Republic babyyyyyy!

Gets day drunk while he’s on the boat but then has ruthless efficiency in the water. Soon as he’s out again, the buzz comes back. No one has any idea how the fuck that works.

Is the one that makes sure they adhere to the legal limit. “I refuse to get our asses arrested and have the Ministry deal with that PR issue just because we got greedy with some sea roaches. I’m on thin ice as is, that would just be embarrassing.”

Puts the lobsters he catches in his own personal cooler. This also happens to be where he keeps his drinks. He doesn’t seem to mind so no one questions it.

Insists on listening to Jimmy Buffett when he’s in charge of the boat and at any other opportunity.

Terzo

Weirdly competitive about it, has this inherent need to be The Best at lobster catching. Probably the Middle Sibling Instinct kicking in.

Him and Secondo go head to head every year over who can get more over the mini-season. They’re about evenly matched skill-wise so it tends to go back and forth every year.

Will sometimes start arguments in the water over a catch

“That one was mine! I chased it out of the hole when your bald ass got in the way and stole it!” “I found that lobster fair and square and you know it, fuck off” “Right sure, and Nihil loves us. I hope you sunburn your skull, stronzo.”

There have been slap fights between two grown men in 4 feet of water.

Was the one to figure out that the lobster are calmer and taste better when you keep them on ice. It took. An embarrassing amount of time for them to figure that out. They started this tradition before Google, alright? Give them a break.

Likes to sing along to the radio as well, but makes up new lyrics when Secondo gets on his nerves.

Copia

New to this whole thing cause he was scared of getting in the water and having to pick the lobsters up by hand. Mostly just slept on the boat in years prior

Now that he’s Papa though the others made him participate with them.

He is. Very nervous. First time he scared a lobster out of a hole he somehow scared out a second that was faced the other way and it swam directly at his face, scaring the absolute shit out of him.

His snorkel keeps falling over his ear :(

Lost his net and his tickle stick in water with 4 feet of visibility, managed beyond all odds to find them again, then lost his looper in the process of catching something.

Somehow still managed to get the biggest lobster of the day. Like cartoonishly so. It was his big trophy. They cooked it for him for dinner as a reward for his first outing.

Nihil

Just here so the brothers can increase their legal limit.

He’s become one with the sea grass

Sleeping with the fishies

Don’t worry he’ll wake up when a crab tries to bite his ass

[bropunzeling]

If you're up for some random-ass questions, here are some questions for the new year!

what fic were you proudest of this year?

what fic are you most surprised you wrote?

favorite old (to you) ship this year

favorite new (to you) ship this year

favorite old (to you) ship you picked up again this year

favorite old man (old man being a state of mind not gender) ship (maybe you ship a younger version of them but they're Old Men now)

ships/characters you're excited about in 2024

fics/plot bunnies you're excited about working on in 2024

give a random prediction of any kind - about your own writing, about your fandom's fic trends, about canonical developments in your fandom

share a random thought about fics you've written, characters you're thinking about, writing in general, etc

Feel free to pass on if you'd like, or not! Happy new year!

thank you anon! what a great excuse to ignore the work computer. also consider this a blanket "steal these prompts" from me for whoever is so moved bc i don't want to tag everyone

what fic were you proudest of this year? i might have to say only fools rush in aka marriage bets! it certainly is the longest one i've written and had the longest gestational period. plus i wrote a lot of it while incredibly busy (tho maybe that helped?). im still happy i managed to hit the balance between ridiculous premise and genuine feeling that i was aiming for, and that i managed to figure out and feel comfortable in a new pov.

what fic are you most surprised you wrote? linger. if you told me a year ago i was gonna write 65k of omegaverse i simply would not have believed you! it wasn't a trope i ever thought i would write! and yet here we are. lmao.

favorite old (to you) ship this year? i mean. viva la ratfiction. someday we may run out of steam but not this year by golly!

favorite new (to you) ship this year? the amount brady/quinn clawed its way into my brain this year cannot be overstated. maybe i was exploring last year but this year is when it really got me in a fucking chokehold. the pining! the friends to lovers of it all!!!!! exquisite. honorable mention to matthew/sasha. those two ARE in love.

favorite old (to you) ship you picked up again this year? earlier this fall i started a rewatch of miss fisher's murder mysteries and god. jack and phryne. they are EVERYTHING. someday i really will write fic for them.

favorite old man (state of mind) ship? gotta be honest first thing that came to mind was band of brothers winters/nixon. we'll go to chicago. i'll take you there.

ships/characters you're excited about in 2024? hmm brady/quinn, obvi. the general state of brady tkachuk and how i'd like to give him a midlife crisis and by midlife i mean when he's 29. jamie and trevor are BACK baby, and i wanna make trevor sad and making poor choices for 50k before he finally gets to get kissed. has someone written timmy stu and mo seider as summer boyfriends yet? bc i still like that.

fics/plot bunnies you're excited about working on in 2024? i think i have tentatively figured out my next long matthew/leon project (which i can't start until the new year) but i don't want to say quite yet in case i scare it off but! that. it WILL be a true slow burn which will be fun. also ballet quinn i WOULD like to put more than 2k in your gdoc. hopefully at some point soon inspiration will hit again/i'll feel less dull and burnt out

give a random prediction of any kind - about your own writing, about fandom trends, about canonical developments in your fandom: the kraken will sign yamo to a longer contract. i will start a project thinking it will be nice and short and then watch it double, like bread dough rising.

share a random thought about fics you've written, characters you're thinking about, writing in general: did you know the more you write the better you get? even though there’s plenty of areas where i want to improve and become a stronger, more thoughtful developer of sentences/plots/et cetera, i can really see my growth from month to month or year to year and that's neat!!! i'm slowly getting better!!!

[nyiiwest]

BDS BOYCOTT & BDS SAFE LIST!!!

If there’s any mistakes please let me know and I’ll fix it but these are the brands that are owned by big brands supporting Israel.

BOYCOTT LIST;

Estée Lauder brands:

Aveda

Becca

Coach cosmetics

Smashbox

Tom Ford

Aramis

Bumble and Bumble

Aerin

American Beauty

Clinique

Bobbi Brown

Darphin

Donna Karan

Ermenegildo Zegna

Flirt!

Goodskin Labs

Grassroots Research Labs

Jo Malone

Kiton

La Mer

Lab series skincare for men

MAC

Michael Kors

OJON

Origins

OSIAO

Prescriptives

Tommy Hilfiger

Too Faced Cosmetics

Tory Burch

Ahava

Revlon

L’Oreal

Lancome

Giorgio Armani Beauty

Yves Saint Laurent Beauté

Biotherm

Kiehl’s

Ralph Lauren

Shu Uemura

Cacharel

Helena Rubinstein

Clarisonic

Diesel

Viktor & Rolf

Yue Sai

Maison Martin Margiela

Urban Decay

Guy Laroche

Paloma Picasso

Vichy

La Roche-Posay

SkinCeuticals

Inneov

Rogers&Gallet

Sanoflore

L’Oreal Paris

Garnier

Maybelline New York

Softsheen.Carson

Essie

L’Oreal Professionnel

Kérastase

Redken

Matrix

Pureology

Shu Uemura Art of Hair

Mizani

NYX

Good American

KKW beauty

Skims

Poosh

Skin by Kim Kardashian

Kylie skin

Kylie baby

Kylie cosmetics

Kylie clothing

818 tequila

Goop/Super Goop

Elf

Fenty beauty

Fenty skin

Savagexfenty

Rare beauty

Amika

Tower 28

Zara

Starbucks

McDonald’s

Popeyes

KFC

Taco bell

Pizza Hut

Papa John’s

Dominos

Burger King

Always

Tampax

Luvs

Pampers

Bounty

Naturella

Tempo

Charmin

Whisper

Dodot

Puffs

Crest

Gillette

Oral-B

Scope

Vicks

Venus

Clearblue

Fusion

Braun

CoverGirl

Herbal Essences

Max Factor

Nice ‘n Easy

Pantene

Vidal Sassoon

Dolce & Gabbana

Ivory

Aussie

Head & Shoulders

Old Spice

Secret

Olay

Clairol Professional

Cheer

Bounce

Daz

Era

Gain

Mr. Clean

Comet

Downy

Fab

Gala

Mr. Proper

Ariel

Cascade

Dash

Dawn

Dreft Laundry

Fairy

Joy

Myth

Swiffer

Febreeze

Duracell

Johnson & Johnson

Johnson’s baby products

Aveeno

Lubriderm

Aveeno

Neutrogena

Vendome

Clean & Clear

Roc

Bebe

Band-Aid

Bengay

Neosporin

Cortaid

Listerine

Rembrandt

Tylenol

Sudafed

Pepcid

Nicorette

Motrin

Immodium

Dolormin

Benadryl

Mylanta

Zyrtec

Splenda

Benecol

Lactaid

Visine

Acuvue contact lenses

Kimberly-Clark

Kotex

Depends

Poise

Kleenex

Scott

Viva

Cottonelle

Wondersoft

Thick & Thirsty

Huggies

Pull-Ups

GoodNites, Little Swimmers, Snugglers, etc

BDS SAFE BRANDS;

ABH

Beauty bakerie

Charlotte tilbury

Cover FX

Dose of colors

Gerard cosmetics

Huda beauty

Inglot

Kevin aucoin

KVD

Laura Gellar

Laura mercier

Makeup forever

Makeup by Mario

About face

Af94

Nars

Pat McGrath

Stila

Uoma

Viseart

Hindash

Ardell

Rimmel London

Nip+fab

Chi

Beauty of Joseon

Cosrx

Sol de Janeiro

Kayali

Little Caesar’s

Sunset makeup

If there’s any I missed or are no longer BDS safe let me know.

[bego447]

The Bad Batch Reacción episodios 6 y 7, temporada 3

Perdón por la tardanza. No sé por qué he tardado tanto en publicar mi reacción a los episodios del 6 al 9, pero aquí van 2 de esos 4 episodios. Los otros 2 los subiré dentro de un rato.

EPISODIO 6:

Riyo 🤩 Reina!

MADRE MÍA PERO TÚ HAS VISTO CÓMO REX SE HA TIRADO A POR LA MALDITA GRANADA??!!?! 🤩🤩😍🤤😭😍🤤🤩

EL CAMPAMENTO BASE ES TETH??

Ahhh la música del principio de TCW

Ahh la música x2, el tema de los clones!!

Wow. Necesitamos una serie sólo de esto. ¡Por favor!

"You're still one of us." 🥺😭 Es que les daría un abrazo a todos

"I don't want to involve them in this." Aww es que.. Rex 🥺🤲🏼💙

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH OMEGA IMITANDO A CROSSHAIR!! ERA EL QUE LE FALTABA

"Just like old times." 🥺😂 Wrecker

Aaaaaaaaaahhhhwwwwwwww la mirada y la sonrisa entre Rex y Omega 🥺🥺😭

¿Quiénes son mis dos clones rubios favoritos?

Ay jaja la mirada de Howzer todo el rato 😒🧐 Ay mi chico

AAAAhhhhhhhhhwwwww Echo!!! Ayyy el arma que le ha modificado a Omega 🥺🥺🥺

Rex hablándole así a Omega y poniéndole al mano en el hombro 🥺🥺

"Being defective is in my nature."

Uf, no sé por qué, pero la teoría de que Tech es uno de esos cada vez me convence más… Lo de las gafas y demás… Muy sospechoso

AAAAhhhhh, ha visto a Omega y se ha ido!!! 😭😭 ¿Es porque sabe que la necesitan viva o es porque….? AAAHHHH

Aahh se la van a llevar otra vez!! 😩 Otra vez no, por favor.

Aunque… el siguiente capítulo se llama "extraction" 👀

Ufff qué cerca pasó ese rayo

Vamos Fireball! ¡Haz honor a tu nombre!

Ay dioh mío, menos mal que sé que a Rex no le matan

Siiuu ¡¡FIREBALL!!

NOOOO

Oh genial… Dos naves del imperio 🙄

*aparece un clon con kama y visor en el casco de espaldas enfrente de un clon comando*

Yo tras observarlo un segundo en pausa y sin ver nada más: ¡¡¡¡WOLFFEEEE!!!!

¡¡¡WOLFFEEEEEE!!! ¡¡¡¡WOLFFEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Mira los arañazos en su armadura. Parece que se ha peleado con un lobo de verdad 🐺😂🤩

NOOOOO Y AHÍ TERMINA

Lo bueno que el otro ya está 😎🤩

Uy, y esa pausa tan larga…

A vale, nada xD

En los créditos: Dee Bladley Baker as: 20 mil personajes, para variar 🤣🤩

~ ~ ~

SIGUIENTE, CAPÍTULO 7

ºoº ¡Está vivo! ¡Es porque es Tech! Si no estaría muerto.

Omega preocupándose por Rex me representa 🥺🥺🤲🏼💙

Y Crosshair también ayudándole a levantarse 🥺

"Heh, there's always another way."

¡¡¡¡WOLFFEEEE!!!! ¡Aparición estelar! 🤩

Ayyy, mirando los cadáveres de sus hermanos 🥺

Uy Wolffe, uy Wolffe… Él no va a estar contento con que maten a sus hermanos

Wolffe modo autoritario 🤩😍🤩

Hilo… ¿Es el nombre del comando? 🤩

Y… ¡volvió a sobrevivir a otra caída! xD

Vale, ya he asumido que ese es Tech 😅

Jajajja aww, Batcher dándole besitos a Nemec 🥺🥺 Está feliz de que esté vivo

Jajaja, cuántos de nosotros (en el fandom) desearíamos ser Batcher… 🥺😂😳

A que le roban la nave al otro… xD

Me imagino la cara de Wolffe debajo de su casco, con ese ojo gris cibernético, su cara cabreada y cansada de tragar tanta mierda y su manía de rodar los ojos 🤣🤣 Mientras le echa la bronca

🥺🥺 Crosshair preocupándose por Omega 🥺😌

AAAAAHHHHH CROSSHAIR ES MÁS PADRE QUE HUNTER!

"You're as dad as Hunter." (sé que dice "bad" pero "dad es más accurate)

"Oh, I'm much worst."

😭😂😂😭🤣😭🤣 No sé si reír o llorar xD

"I've seen how you are with the kid."

Ohh, ahora Howzer se va a ver identificado en cómo trata Cross a Omega y cómo trataba él a Hera (?) 🥺💙

Es que los clones tienen alma de papá. ¡Tienen el ADN de Jango Fett! ¡Por favor! 🥺 Who knew clones were so paternal? xD

Granadas.. Oh de humo. Bien!

Oh, uff, ¿habéis visto cómo ha rodado Howzer para esquivar los tiros?

¡Nemec! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 😭😭

[Caen los dos al río] 😧😦😯😮

¡Vamos, Rex, habla con Wolffe! Habla con tu hermano. Vais a acabar los dos viviendo muchos años juntos 😅

"Wolffe?" 😭

"Rex?" 😭😭

"I- [exhales sharply] I thought you were dead." 😭😭😭

Wolffe!! Mi hermoso y precioso lobito! 😭🥺🤲🏼

"I lost a lot of good men that day." 😭😭😭

Uff, todo este diálogo entre Rex y Wolffe 😭🥺😭

"Think about what you're doing, Wolffe. I know you've been trained not to question orders, but open your eyes. You're hunting a child. I know that's not who you are." *the clones theme suena de fondo* 😭😭😭😭 "As you brother, I'm asking you to do the right thing." 😭😭

Ahh y Eco llega con Gregor! Primera vez que tenemos a la vez a los 3 de Rebels.

UUUFFFF LA MÚSICA, LOS PLANOS!!!

Ayy esas miradas y leves asentimientos con Rex.. 😭 Va a dejar que se vayan 🥺

Eres un buen hombre, Wolffe! UN GRAN HOMBRE! 😭

"Recover their fallen, then we move out."

"But, sir, they're traitors."

"Perhaps… But they're clones. We owe them that." 😭😭😭💙🖤💚😭😭

Ya bueno, y el clon X está vivo… Otra caída a la que sobrevive… 👀

Por favor, la escena… 🥺 Omega durmiendo con Batcher. Rex dolido por sus hermanos y Hunter va a apoyarle 🥺🥺

Este hombre está pensando en sus hermanos 🥺😭🤲🏼💙

😭😭😭 La última conversación entre Rex y Hunter 😭😭😭

Siempre pensé que Clone X sería un clon random, pero en el momento en el que un montón de escombros cayeron sobre él y no murió pensé "vale, definitivamente es Tech". Y luego todas esas caídas

----

Cuando Howzer habló con Crosshair sobre cómo trataba al niño, pensé que lo comparó con cómo trató a Hera. Los clones definitivamente tienen alma de padre. ¡Tienen el ADN de Jango Fett! ¡Vamos! 🥺🫶🏻

"¿Quién diría que los clones eran tan paternales?" ¡Literalmente todos nosotros! 😌🥹

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

The Squad as Ringtones in Hangman's Phone

Maverick: 'Bad Reputation' by Joan Jett because Hangman loves how Maverick continuously did things his way for the entirety of his career. And, knowing how most admirals view Maverick, Hangman can think of no song more fitting.

Rooster: 'Old MacDonald Had a Farm' because a rooster belongs on a farm. It used to piss Rooster off, but now he laughs at it.

Phoenix: 'Girl On Fire' by Alicia Keys. He was torn between that and 'The Phoenix' by Fall Out Boy, but once he discovered Maverick had this for her, Hangman decided he needed something original.

Bob: 'Baby On Board' by the Be Sharps from the Simpsons. Hangman spent an unhealthy amount of time trying to find a fitting song for Bob and was a little too proud of himself for finding this.

Coyote: 'Who Let the Dogs Out' by the Baha Men. Coyote knows he'll always have to call Hangman twice because the first time, Hangman is too busy singing along to the ringtone.

Payback: 'Viva Las Vegas' by Elvis because Vegas is where Payback earned his callsign.

Fanboy: 'Star War's Theme Song' by John Williams. He knows the font on Fanboy's helmet is from Star Trek because the WSO thinks it's better than Star Wars, so Hangman has the Star Wars theme song to annoy him.

Cyclone: 'Cyclone' by Baby Bash ft. T-Pain. Cyclone does not know this. He will never know about this.

Warlock: 'I've Put A Spell On You,' the Hocus Pocus version because Hangman loves that movie, and he thinks Warlock has the same spunk as the witches singing the song.

[einsteinsugly]

The Kids' Music Tastes, In My Verse.

Adrian Forman: Loves Alien Ant Farm, Papa Roach, Daft Punk, and Linkin Park. The kids make fun of him for liking Coldplay, until "Viva La Vida" comes out and James likes it. Is introduced to old school jazz via the Fallout series, and definitely takes a liking to it.

Ashley Tate: Is a huge fan of The Cheetah Girls, Destiny's Child, B2K, Usher, Christina Milian, Ciara, and Ashanti as a tween/in her early teens. As an older teen, she loves Ne Yo, Rihanna, Jazmine Sullivan, and Chris Brown (until he shows his true colors). Is the biggest Beyonce stan you will ever meet.

Becca Hyde: Is the biggest Zeppelin fan out of the kids, and is also a big fan of Blondie, Heart, and Fleetwood Mac. Loves 90s grunge, like Nirvana, Soundgarden, and Smashing Pumpkins, and other 90s staples like No Doubt, Alanis Morissette, and Garbage. Loves "quirky" pop like Billie Eilish, Lorde, Marina and the Diamonds, Lana Del Rey, Lily Allen, and The Veronicas.

Betsy Kelso: Loves Pink Floyd, The Doors, and AC/DC. Was a big fan of New Kids on the Block as a kid. She still likes REM, the Barenaked Ladies, and Smash Mouth.

Hannah Kelso: Was a huge Backstreet Boys fan as a tween, and liked(s) One Direction as an adult. Is the devout Swiftie of the group, and loves country music, too.

James Hyde: A big fan of The Black Keys, Muse, Queens of the Stone Age, Eminem, Fort Minor, Gorillaz, Arctic Monkeys, Hozier, and The Killers. Gets Leah to like The 1975, and Leah gets him to like Franz Ferdinand. He has a soft spot for Mumford and Sons and Of Monsters and Men, but he can't get into The Lumineers and Bleachers (*stares at Leah*).

In terms of older stuff, he's a big fan of Zeppelin, The Stones, The Who, The Doors, The Eagles, Steely Dan, and the Allman Brothers Band. He has a soft spot for Elton John and James Taylor. Isn't a fan of the harder stuff, like Jethro Tull, the Ramones, and the Sex Pistols, amongst others.

Kate Forman: Has a mix of her mother's love for singer/songwriter stuff and her father's love for soft rock.

Old stuff: Simon and Garfunkel, Carole King, James Taylor, Fleetwood Mac, Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, Bread, America, Elton John, Wings, and The Beatles.

Newer stuff: Adele, Lewis Capaldi, Alicia Keys, John Mayer, Five for Fighting, Coldplay, Sara Bareilles, Sheryl Crow, Jewel, Sixpence None The Richer, Norah Jones, Michelle Branch, KT Tunstall, Corinne Bailey Rae, and Vanessa Carlton. Has a soft spot for Natasha Bedingfield.

Leah Forman: Is a huge Parawhore. Also loves Panic at the Disco, Fall Out Boy, The Cab, Vampire Weekend, MGMT, The All American Rejects, Franz Ferdinand, and Blink 182. Loved Avril Lavigne and Pink, before they sold out, around 07/08. She has loved The Beatles, Aerosmith, Bon Jovi, Weezer, and Green Day since she was little. Also enjoys Muse and The Killers.

Later on, she's a fan of Neon Trees, Bleachers, The Lumineers, Of Monsters and Men, Two Door Cinema Club, Walk the Moon, and Mumford and Sons.

[thing-of-the-past]

*** The 1950s / 1960s ~ starring The Top 75 ***

ANN-MARGRET

Notable Films: "Viva Las Vegas" (64), "Bus Riley's Back in Town" (65), "Bye Bye Birdie" (63), "Kitten with a Whip" (64), "The Pleasure Seekers" (64), "Pocketful of Miracles" (61), "The Cincinnati Kid" (65), "Carnal Knowledge" (71 - Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination), "Tommy" (75 - Best Actress Oscar nomination) and "Grumpy Old Men" (93).

[silentdescant]

tagged by @alittledizzy!!

last song: My Dear Frodo by Howard Shore...... because I listen to the lotr soundtracks to sleep to and that's just where I paused it in the morning. The last thing I actually intentionally listened to yesterday was P!atD's Viva Las Vengeance album because I'm seeing them tomorrow and I don't know any of those songs lollllll oops.

last show/series: I just binged She-Hulk when the season finale aired! Overall I rec, and I love Tatiana Maslany so much, but it was not the best marvel show by a long shot. Before that I watched season 2 of The Flight Attendant, which I rec a lot more tbh.

currently watching: I’m currently watching a reaction video to The Scorch Trials... I spend a lot of my time watching reaction videos to any movies or tv shows I enjoy.

favorite color: I love green and blue!! I like kind of desaturated calming colors.

sweet, spicy, or savory: I have a bit of a sweet tooth but mostly I go for salty snacks. HATE SPICY, I don't want my mouth to be in pain.

currently reading: I started Lost Boy the other day, the Peter Pan/Captain Hook retelling, but I haven't made much progress (I'm literally on like page 10). I got distracted by fic. I just read this original fic by phoenixflight, Men of Business, and it was very much up my alley (aka kinky).

what i'm working on: ..............reading books. I haven't worked on fic or art in a while, I've felt too exhausted and uncreative. :\ I want that to change soon. Hopefully.

currently obsessed with: KJ Charles books, perpetually. I've read a bunch, and I still have a few more left to read, but I already want to reread my favorites (again). (Favs being Society of Gentlemen, Will Darling Adventures, and Any Old Diamonds. HIGHLY REC!!!!!)

I shall tag... @aphnxrising @deripmaver @thickenmyblood @folfar @laurentspup :)

[ochoislas]

LOS CUATRO

Dos hombres que nunca se juntaron, dos mentes que sólo podrían haberse juntado para disentir, llevan ya cerca de cuarenta años, mal de su grado, juntos en mí... no en una armonía perfecta, pero tampoco sin cierto entendimiento mutuo.

Uno fue menestral, más paciente con la madera que con sus congéneres. Hombre callado que trabajaba solo, y cuando no trabajaba se sentaba apartado de todos en una sala. Un hombre pronto avejentado, pronto ido, pasando de casa en casa, de hija casada en hija casada, haciendo sus solitarios o augurando una nueva guerra civil, o mirando la carpa dorada en la pecera.

El otro fue un médico rural. A juzgar por su retrato, con mentón de mando, tenía el genio de una tronada de agosto. Era un irlandés de Nueva Escocia. Tuvo diez hijos de los cuales dos o tres eran demostración viva de que tenía buen sentido además del de padre. Murió a los cincuenta y siete.                         ¿Cómo iban esos dos, que hubieran evitado estar en la misma sala, a juntarse ahora en una mente en paz?

La respuesta es: otros dos hay presentes, por nombre Paciencia y Serenidad... Mis dos abuelas. No hablan a menudo, porque no han de hablar para entender.

*

THE FOUR

Two men who never met, two men whose minds Could not have met except to disagree, Now for some forty years despite themselves Have met in me—not in complete accord. Yet not without some mutual understanding.

One was a craftsman, patienter with wood Than with his fellow men. A silent man Who worked alone, and when he couldn’t work Sat lonely in a room with other people. A man too early old, too soon gone-by. Passing from house to house, from married daughter To daughter, playing his games of solitaire Or prophesying civil war again Or gazing at the goldfish in their bowl.

The other was a country doctor. If His photograph is proof, his jaw was law. His temper was an August thunderstorm. He was a Nova Scotian Irishman. He had ten sons and two or three of them Were documentary evidence their father Possessed both motherwit and fatherwit. He died at fifty-seven.                        How should two men Who might have found one room too small for them Now meet together in one mind in peace?

The answer is: there are two others here Whose names are Patience and Serenity— My grandmothers. They do not often speak. They do not need to speak to understand.

Robert Francis

di-versión©ochoislas

[armouros]

KIWI youtubers i know about

a list of Aotearoa new zealand youtubers that i know of.

Hello Future Me talks about story writing but also some avatar and lord of the rings stuf. has the look and sound of a youtube video esay person .

Izzzyzzz puts on a full face of makeup on to fit the topic which is usually about old internet , toys , the sims or some creepy thing.

Viva La Dirt League i dont find ther stuf larf out loud funny but most of the time i can see what thay wher going for . thay have a -What now- vibe like it was made for young teens. i think that pay for advertising because that's how i found them.

Bryony Claire torks about sochil ishues like long covid , being sad , age appropriate clothing- kind of like dinerer tabel conversion but actually interesting.

White Man Behind A Desk politacal stuf cind of like last week tonight. dusnot poast much eneymore but ther is a sekshon on nz citasons hand book that is evergreen

The Aotearoa History Show learn about kiwis past. some of it is animated which is more fun. plus that try very hard to not be biased.

ManyKudos deep dive into random stuf

if you know eney kiwi tubers plese let me know.