#hes Scottish for God's sake

[brewed-pangolin]

Just thinking about Soap's uncut, thick cock and how it curves up just right and to the left to hit that sweet spot.

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[ingravinoveritas]

David is so fucking sexy because he knows exactly how good he looks here...

[python333]

task force 141 reacting to [reader] clinging to them — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the title says bb!! just some headcanons of the boys reacting to the reader clinging to them and basically following them around like a lost puppy!

relationships platonic!tf141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings written in 2nd person pov [you/your/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], non-scottish reader [or could be read as scottish with less of an accent], probably ooc :{

note this is so. self indulgent. BUT i need to get my thoughts out rn about these boys because its too much to contain my silly little brain won't let this go and i need to just hdjhsdfjdhj. if anyone wants to request something for me to write pls do it because this is the only thing thats gotten me out of my writers block.

JOHN "BRAVO SIX" PRICE

➥ i honestly don’t even think he’d notice at first.

➥ about a week after you’d gotten to know everyone on the team and started to get used to their quirks, you decide your target to cling onto is gonna be price… because why not?

➥ when i say cling i mean following him around like a lost puppy, just about watching his every move, basically being his shadow.

➥ it’s not until about three days of you doing this when he realizes you’re shadowing him.

➥ when he confronts you about it, it’s less of a confrontation and more like him saying “... do you need something?” and then brushing it off when you shake your head ‘no’.

➥ he’s not really irritated or angry about it, more confused but generally okay with it.

➥ so when he realizes you’re gonna be doing this often, he can’t tell whether he should feel honored or bothered.

➥ spoilers: he ends up feeling honored. it’s his fatherly instincts, y’all already know.

➥ he’s awkward about it at first, now that he actually knows you’re following him, he’s constantly checking over his shoulder and — yep, you’re still there.

➥ so he doesn’t confront you about it again, and just lets you follow him around, and once y’all get closer he teases you for following him around like a duckling would with its mother.

—

You’d been following Price around for a few days now. He hadn’t noticed so far, thank God, but he was definitely close to finding out. You could see the way he’d occasionally glance over his shoulder and see you following him, then keep eye contact with you for a moment before going on with his day — which really confused you at first, but who cares as long as he’s not stopping you? — and letting you follow him.

You had been following him out of habit. You didn’t mean to follow him in particular, it just… happened. Something about his demeanor, you’d convinced yourself, He just feels safe. It’s inexplicable and we will not be diving into my underlying issues to figure out why he feels safe.

So when he’d confronted you about it—or, asked you about it is probably more accurate—with a questioning tone and the words, “Did you need something?”, you shook your head ‘no’, and that was that. The older man had looked at you for another second, eyes looking over your expression as if trying to read you like a book, then went on with his day. You had let out a sigh of relief, and continued your little routine of following him around and being his little shadow.

—

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

➥ he’s such a silly guy, man.

➥ he’d notice but pretend he didn’t, just for the sake of seeing how long you’ll follow him.

➥ if anyone points out your presence he’ll ignore it and change the subject.

➥ of course, once he realizes you aren’t letting up your clinginess, he confronts you about it in the most professional way possible!

➥ “Do ye trail everyone ‘round like that, or am I jist special?”

➥ it takes you a moment to figure out what he just said because holy fuck that accent is THICK.

➥ but you figure it out after a quick moment of thinking and struggle to respond, before offering a quiet, “... Uh. I guess you’re just special?”

➥ he is very happy about this.

➥ he nods approvingly and goes on with his day, letting you trail behind him.

➥ he really doesn’t mind, and actually enjoys having you trail behind him.

—

Following around Soap was more of a challenge than you’d intended. It was fun, for the most part, and you liked that he didn’t acknowledge you at all. The main reason you had kept following him was because he didn’t bother you at all, and didn’t even glance back at you as you followed him, no, he simply let you follow him around and shadow him all day.

Of course, you still had training and practice, but the moment you had gotten out of the showers and were done for the day, you’d gone back to following Soap, once you’d found him. Your daily routine was basically: wake up, eat breakfast, follow Soap, go to the training room and follow your CO’s orders, shower and eat lunch or dinner, find Soap, follow Soap, sleep, repeat.

Then one day, on a particularly idle day, Soap had turned to you and popped the question — “Do ye trail everyone ‘round like this, or am I jist special?”

Maybe you were just being dramatic, but holy fuck , his accent made it almost sound like he was speaking a whole different language. You process his words for a moment, before responding with a quiet, “Uh… I guess you’re just special?”

He seemed pretty satisfied with that answer and never really bothered you with it again.

—

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

➥ he realizes immediately and ohhh boyyyyyy.

➥ “Do you need something?” “Did you need something?” “Why are you following me?” “Stop following me.” “Do you need something?”

➥ he is. Very bothered.

➥ constantly looking over his shoulder just to find your annoying ass following him.

➥ will always ask you why you’re following him, and when you shrug or give a bullshit excuse, he gives an exasperated sigh and goes on with his day.

➥ sometimes he’d even try to lose you in the crowd, and when you miraculously continue to follow him through it, he’d somehow become even more miserable. it’s impressive, your dedication to following him around like this.

➥ he’ll warm up to it eventually, maybe a month or two after you’ve started following him.

➥ by month one he’ll stop constantly asking you why you’re following him, and by month two he’ll stop constantly glancing over his shoulder.

➥ and eventually, he’ll stop trying to lose you in the crowds, and instead look for the easiest way to get through them with you trailing behind him.

—

Ghost should’ve known from the moment you persisted with your following of him through thick and thin that you’d never give this up. Honestly, it’s impressive how dedicated you are to trailing behind him like a little shadow, never even speaking to him, just following him.

However, Ghost could persist as well.

You’d follow him around as much as possible, starting at the break of dawn and briefly pausing your following to do whatever training your CO instructed and then resuming your following till curfew. Day after day, Ghost would interrupt your following by questioning it, then when given an answer, he’d give an exasperated sigh and storm off, not waiting for you to catch up.

At first, he thought you wanted to win over some sort of attention or affection from him. So, he made sure not to give you any. He didn’t spare a single moment for you, besides glancing at you over his shoulder and questioning your presence, and yet you continued to follow him. So he experimented with it a bit — he didn’t spare a single glance at you one day, didn’t speak to you one bit, didn’t do anything. Just went around as if you weren’t there. And yet, you continued to follow him, not put off by his behavior at all.

So, he just stopped thinking too much about you, in the nicest way possible. He wouldn’t glance back at you and question your presence, but he also wouldn’t try and lose you around the base. He wouldn’t storm off and leave you running to catch up. Sometimes, he even forgets you’re there at all. He warms up to it, albeit after a few months, but he still warms up to it nonetheless.

—

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

➥ i think he’d notice fairly quickly but wouldn’t point it out right away.

➥ like, he’d glance over his shoulder and see you following him, but gaslights himself into thinking you’re just trying to get to the same place he is, so he doesn’t confront you about it or anything.

➥ so when he realizes that you’re following him and not just trying to get to the same place he is, he’s kind of weirded out, but still doesn’t confront you.

➥ he’ll ask soap for some help on what to do and the damn idiot just goes ‘[c/n] probably has a crush on you’ so now gaz thinks you have a crush on him.

➥ i mean, he’s flattered, but also he has no idea who you are, so…

➥ he’s now even more awkward.

➥ so then he goes to price for help,

➥ and price is just a tinge more reasonable.

➥ price tells gaz that you’re probably just shadowing him because you see him as some sort of mentor, or maybe there was someone in your past that was similar to gaz and you followed them around as well.

➥ his reasoning doesn’t help all that much, because what the fuck is gaz supposed to do with that, but whatever.

➥ he really doesn’t know what to do about you, to be honest.

➥ after way too long, he asks you why you’re following him.

➥ and when you shrug or give an excuse as to why you’ve been trailing behind him ever since you’ve gotten here, he shrugs back and goes on with his day.

➥ doesn’t mind all that much, so yippee!!

➥ eventually, when you two get closer, he tells you that you can walk by his side instead of behind him.

—

Making Gaz your target was probably the best idea you’ve ever had.

He’s pretty quiet, doesn’t actively try to get you to go away, and best of all, he really just walks around and does any tasks he needs to. It’s oddly nice, just watching him do his work. He doesn’t talk to himself under his breath like Soap or Price does, and doesn’t do his work in complete silence like Ghost does. He’ll often hum to himself or whistle, a noise that’s quickly become weirdly comforting to you.

It’s kind of disappointing realizing you have to go off to training, honestly. Following Gaz around has quickly become the pinnacle of your day. Which sounds really sad now that you think of it, but who cares.

About a month of you following him later, he finally asks you why you’re following him. In the nicest way possible, of course.

“Is there a reason you’ve been following me around all month?”

When you shrug or give an excuse for your actions, he thinks about your words (or your wordless shrug) for a moment and mutters a quiet, “Alright, then,” and goes on with his day.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Northern attitude

Previous chapter

a/n I welcome you to the second part for more Sugar and Ghost. Did I have a right to form attachment to these two in two chapters? No. But here I am. Enjoy.

summary: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: blood, wounds, needles, death, hospitals, IV's, vomiting, trauma... I think that's all...

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Keep the chest compressions going", the female voice filled the space that now seemed as buzzing as the actual hospital room. Not that any of them truly had been in the midst of it all. But army hospitals, especially while on the move, could and did get chaotic at times. "You'll need another shot of adrenaline", a calm and collected tone instructed. Gaz looked into Soap's eyes, who has been ramming at your heart for some time now. The two males nodded at one another. "Coming in 3 2 1", Gaz called out as they switched for only a heartbeat or two. Soap's hand left your chest, while Gaz aimed the needle right toward your left shoulder.

Simon felt as if he was in a daze. In one of his nightmares, maybe. Yeah, maybe that's what it was. One of his nightmares where he was aware that he was in his mind traps. Yet he didn't recall what had happened after he started shaking your body. Who pulled you out of his arms? Who pushed him to the side?

"Go back to stimulating the heart, Johnny. Hum, while you're at it", Ghost knew that voice now that his brain had granted him a moment of clarity. Eleanor Price's wife was a medic and a woman not ready to give up on her adoptive daughter. Desperate and ready to do anything. Make the four basic medical knowledge-baring males do everything they can so her baby girl will come back home. Come home, but not in a casket. Simon had no clue who even dialed her number. The phone was used for emergencies only. They were strictly advised not to use it until it was a life-or-death situation. The call had to be directed straight to the base. Eleanor wasn't at the base. But somehow, that made Simon calmer. He was happier that it was her and not some careless idiot in charge.

"You need to start the drip", another desperate order filled the space. "I can't, El,", Price said, running a hand through his face in frustration. "John, for fuck sake, you've done it before. Put it in her hand, the palm; don't go full vein, but do it damit", that was the first time Simon caught onto her voice, quivering. For a split second, her cool doctor mask had slipped, making Price clench his jaw so tight that his voice was barely a groan. "Eleanor", he breathed. "Keep humming, Soap," she barked at the man now responsible for pumping your heart, ignoring her husband. And Soap did. His humming grew louder. I got a pocket—a pocket full of sunshine echoing from the walls, accompanied by his thick Scottish accent—now that he too was under lots of stress.

Gaz ran back into the main room with the pouch full of liquid. "Got it", he said breathlessly. "Good, you see that there are two different colored liquids?", Gaz nodded too overstimulated to realize that Eleanor could not see him. "There is", Price said for him. "Good, bend it. It needs to mix, then start the drip, or so help me, God, I will never forgive you, John".

Maybe not a nightmare. Maybe a bad movie. One Ghost hoped he would forget eventually. He just sat there. While everything buzzed around him. For the very first time, he felt helpless. That was a lie. He had only felt helpless that night. The night when all of the people he loved got slaughtered. The night he was forced to lock the last bits of his humanity away. To promise himself that no one would ever get close to him. He would not make friends. He would never fall in love. But here he was. Your blood was still all over him. Simon's hands were tinted. Permanently tinted. It felt almost like an out-of-body experience. He knew this was happening, but a part of him kept on screaming that this was not real and couldn't be. That fate wouldn't be so cruel. Yes, Ghost wasn't a good man, but selfishly, he was sure that after all that he had been through, his debts had to be paid off by now.

Ghost didn't know why, but his brain took him back to the base. The room you two shared. Did he hate it at first? Yes. But you brought peace. You brought life. His room was bland and colorless. Now, with your posters and books, plants, and fucking throw blankets, it felt like living there was intensional. Like you, and only you had to return there. And that was important to Simon. He cared about it. Cared about you even if his snarling demeanor wouldn't let it show.

There were nights when he would find you passed out with your book in your hands. The hardcover digging into your neck. It was not enough to hurt, but it sure had to be uncomfortable. Simon had stood there for a solid ten minutes, the first time it had happened, just watching your slumbering frame. He turned around and went about his nightly routine. He had gone and laid down in his bed. But only a handful of moments later, he was out, crossing the white line. He had gently pulled the book from your skin, using your pen to mark the page you were on. Pulling the blanket over your shoulders because the base got rather cold at night. He told himself that he couldn't allow a soldier on his team to get sick because manpower was crucial, but deep down, he knew that any other lad could be freezing his balls off for all he cared. It was you. You were the main factor in this equation. There was something even back then that didn't sit well with him when it came to you not being well.

"It's bleeding, Eleanor", John's desperate voice filled Ghost's mind, and it was like his systems had been restarted. His eyes darted toward the table. Onto John's slumped shoulders as he fidgeted with the needle. Simon jumped up. He rounded the table to push John's hand off as he reached for the tape, repositioning the very tip of the needle before securing it in place. "You need to keep it stable", Eleanor's voice rang out. "Simon just did it", John breathed out. The room stilled for a moment. They were running out of things they could do to keep you alive. To keep you with them. Ghost held onto your hand. He hoped that everyone would take it as just him making sure that your skin wasn't puffing up, indicating that the incision was done incorrectly. And none of the men, sweaty and mentally exhausted, would have said anything. But Eleanor did.

"Simon, you're okay, sweetheart?", It was so soft. Too soft. She should be yelling. Simon was responsible for what had happened here. Maybe even more, because he should have ripped all the doors that separated him from you. Should not have followed everyone into the safe house. "She will fight; you know it; you stay strong for her. She needs you", Ghost bit onto his cheeks, feeling the taste of iron filling his mouth. He had met Eleanor a couple of times. The woman was an angel. How John had landed her was beyond him, but she was exactly what you had been for the team. A breath of fresh air. Some days when everyone was off duty, she would ring up everyone, inviting them for a barbecue at her and Price's shared home. "Positive", Ghost breathed out, yanking the wall of steel back up. He couldn't let himself feel it. Not here. Not now.

"Her chest", Soap's two words were enough to shift the focus back to the table. His big eyes looked between the rest of his team and the women on the living room table. "Soap", Eleanor's voice carried both worry and hope. "It's moving, she's...", Johnny's voice died down, only to be overshadowed by Eleanor's once more, "Count her pulse for me; tell me if it's steady enough". No one breathed for a moment, as if afraid to chase it away. As if they inhaled too much oxygen themselves, there would not be enough for you. A minute passed. Two. Three.

"Yeah", Johnny breathed, "It's steady. Weak but... but...", a sob slipped past his lips, followed by a cry from Eleanor. Gaz sank to his knees, his chest heavy, as he tried to catch his breath. John moved past them all, rushing towards the side door. But the distance between him and the room wasn't big enough for the rest of them to not hear him heaving. "Fucking hell, Bonnie, you just took ten years of my life", Soap carefully ran his hand over your leg, his head falling back as the quiet tears continued to flow. "Keep a watch on her for me, boys", Eleanor sniffled from the other side. Simon leaned over. His face pressed into your side as he tried to keep his tears at bay. Not even for a moment letting go of your hand.

That was three weeks ago. They had managed to keep you alive for two days in that house. Two days. Finally, transportation from the base was provided to get all of them out of there. The doctors had told them straight to the face that what they had been doing was God's work. They were the reason you were still breathing. But even under the unfaltering gaze of the base doctors, Ghost still couldn't shake the feeling of you slipping away.

Simon was down in the medical wing every day. Some days, he stood for hours in the corner of the room. Some days, he pulled himself a chair and sat by your side. It was the nights that were the hardest, though. Because now all Ghost saw was you. All he felt was a lack of your presence. If he did manage to slip into a restless sleep, he would be up in no time. Sweaty and panting. He would reach for his hoodie as he moved through the quiet hallways to get to you.

"Debrief starts at five", Soap's head popped into the hospital room. Making Ghost stutter on the last words that he was reading as he slowly lowered one of your books to his lap. Most of his mornings looked the same. Quick shower. Breakfast if he was up for it. Your hospital room. Training. Back to your hospital room. Days when he had to be in meetings or debriefs were the ones he hated the most. That meant he had to be away from you for longer than he was willing. "Copy", he said sternly, eager to at least finish the page he was on. And even more so, hoping that Soap would go away. Simon had nothing against the guy. Out of everyone, he liked Johnny the most. The two had a similar sense of humor, and working together never felt like a never-ending nightmare. Just the Scot talked a lot. At times, it was fun, and Simon's ever-running brain benefited from it. But there were times, like now, when he wished that the man would get the message and go his own way. "Ain't my place to say this, but...", the door cracked open a bit more, "I'm sure that she loves that you're here", Simon was so glad that his back was turned to Soap because he was sure that he would be able to see his face falter. Fingers grinning at the book just a bit tighter. "Copy, Soap, you can go", Ghost's tone was more than unamused. He didn't want to break in front of any of them. The safe house had already been a dead giveaway of how Simon felt when it came to you. And he didn't want anyone to know anything else. "And she...", Soap started once more, but Ghost just lifted his hand up, making all sounds die down. "Copy", Simon said thickly through his teeth. He knew that it was selfish to push everyone away like that. You two were also friends. Close ones at that. Simon knew that Soap loved you. He had a front-row ticket to watch that after the mission went south. But he just couldn't. Couldn't do it now. When the door quietly kicked shut, Simon let out a sigh, his eyes darting towards the clock on the wall. He had to go, even if he didn't want to.

"I'll be back", he muttered softly, placing the book on the little table by your bed. "Will finish reading that book for you later", Ghost reached his hand out, softly running his fingers over your forehead, lingering touches stretching out for longer than they should. "You sleep well, Sugar", he breathed out, leaning in to place a kiss on the side of your head and stilling right beside you as he let himself listen to the sound of your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. And he was pulling away, running a hand through his face before he walked out of the room.

Ghost barely said a word in the debrief. When Kate asked for his input, the man shrugged his shoulders and said, "You read my report; you know my thoughts". Was the upper management getting fed up with him at this point? Most definitely. Yet no one managed to put the lack of everyone's involvement against them. Most of the base had been rather quiet when they wheeled you through the corridors, almost lifeless. And yes, the key thing was not to get emotionally attached. Teammates came and went, but everyone knew just as well how tight everyone in this group was. Or came to realize that with the four men following the doctors in one quick stride.

"Ghost", Price's voice yanked Simon back to the meeting room. An almost empty meeting room at that. "A word alone in my office", the captain said, only waiting for a head nod before walking away. Simon followed suit. He knew there was no other option. "Eleanor said you didn't call her back", John mused, reaching for the lighter as he puffed out smoke. Ghost's face stayed blank as he muttered, "I didn't see the call". That was a lie. He did. And there was more than one. Simon just couldn't pick up. The same way he couldn't watch the way Price's wife had sobbed in her husband's chest when they had just returned. The guilt was too much. The sight of her sobbing only made Simon think that it was over. An hour. Maybe two. And your body will be in the bag. Stored away in the cold room.

"Simon", John snapped his hand in front of Ghost's eyes, making the male blink a couple of times. "Is that all, sir?", his voice was grim. Even Simon was struggling to recognize himself. John frowned, "Don't you sir me, boy", a warning finger was jabbed into Simon's chest. A moment of silence. A deep exhale. "Her vitals are getting better. She will pull through", Price said softly, clapping Ghost's shoulders, but the man simply shook his head and said, "You don't know that". And it's like that's all Price needed to realize where the stem of all of this denial was rooted. "I called the shots there. It's on me, not you", the captain said firmly, that same warning finger now pointing directly at his chest. Neither of them said anything else afterward. They just stood there. Eyes burning into each other.

Price's eyes narrowed for a moment before he muttered, "Do you like her? My, Sug, do you like her?", the question threw Simon off the hilt. He didn't expect it here. Now. It wasn't supposed to be discussed here. Like that. And my Sug... Fucking hell. It was his captain's daughter Simon was falling for. Biological or not, she was still a daughter. And for the first time, did he realize how much shit this could bring you both? Maybe it was one-sided even. But the way you held onto him. Your touch. Simon had never been touched so tenderly in his life. And what's more, for the very first time, he didn't want to pull away. "Because if you play...", Price's tone shifted completely as he spoke his words, and Ghost cut him off quickly, "Positive. I do... I like her". John simply nodded at his words, making Simom mimic his movements. The older male scratched his chin before waving Simon away, and he didn't waste a minute before turning away. He'll deal with the potential consequences later on.

Simon was almost out the door when a voice stopped him. "Simon", Price called out once more, making the soldier turn back, "I expect you to mow my lawn in the summer". A strange, warm sensation filled Simon's chest as he looked at the man in front of him, smiling as he puffed out another cloud of smoke. Ghost lets himself linger for a heartbeat more before he closes the door, heading towards the medical wing once more.

"I also overwatered your succulent", Simon said quietly as he looked out of the window in your room. The rest of the team had slowly turned the little, awfully sterol-looking room into a somewhat comfortable place. Or at least a place that screamed less about the inevitable outcome they all feared the most. A plush blanket. Some of your books. A night lamp in the shape of a duck. That was a gift from Soap. Was it slightly questionable? Yes. But everyone dealt with this in their own way, so if bringing you a light-up duck made Soap happy in some way, so will it be.

"I bought you a new one, but... still felt like you should know", Simon continued. He was doing this a lot. Way too much. Maybe? Ghost wasn't sure what was normal or not at this stage. Yet he couldn't help but feel that you would be sitting there with an eyebrow lifted at the number of words he was sharing. One thing everyone knew was that Ghost didn't speak unless it was necessary. Some called it arrogance. Others said that that was just his cold demeanor. The truth was, no one truly stopped to listen or cared for Simon for most of his life. So he got used to it. But talking to you, at least now, made him feel lighter. Besides the reading he did here, Simon also went over meetings with you. A part of him didn't want you to feel left out. Not that your unconscious body cared, but... if you could hear him. He wanted you to feel involved. Then there were an endless amount of stories about how and who had pissed him off that day.

"I...", Ghost's voice dies down as he turns back to face you. You looked like a doll laid neatly on the sheets. They have moved the IV out today. Nothing more but a heart monitor left running. Eleanor had no doubt been here while he was in the debrief because your hair had been brushed. Simon let out a sigh as he pulled a chair for himself, quickly shrugging off his gloves.

"You know, you caught my attention the moment I saw you", his hand hovered above yours for a moment. He didn't trust himself to touch you. What if he harmed you in some way? What if he triggered a negative reaction? "Fucking hell, did you keep us on your toes", Ghost shook his head, "I took it for granted. I'd do anything to see you striding past the main entrance once again". Simon let his head fall over your stomach. Oddly enough, that was the only time that his head seemed to work these days. Taking a deep breath, Simon let the feeling of your body slowly ground him. You're here. With him. He can hear your heart beating. Your body is no longer cold. You even have some of your color back. He can...

A sudden rustling of the sheets makes every single muscle in Simon's body seize. For a moment, he can't even hear his own heart as he stays as still as he can. One heartbeat. Another. Nothing. Devastation rushes through him. He had gotten so sensitive to the sounds in this room. A gentle hand caresses his scalp, and Simon jerks away.

Blinking rapidly, only to find your half-hooded eyes open. Looking right back at him. "No", Simon muttered, fully convinced that his lack of sleep had finally gotten the best of him. He doesn't move away, but he digs the back of his palm into his eyes. "Simon...", and it's barely a whisper. So weak still, but it's there, and... Simon's shoulders quiver. There's no sound. Not a single hick-up, but you know.

Every single part of your body feels as if it's on fire. The room is dim, but gods, it's still too bright for your sensitive eyes. Yet you can't take your eyes away from the man drowning in his own emotions right next to you. You carefully reach out for him, muscles soar from the lack of movement. Brushing your fingers through his hair. Scratching his scalp. You have no idea how long you've been out, but you've heard him talking. Soothing the anxiety of being trapped in nothing but darkness.

"Si", You breathe out once more, trying to tug at his wrist softly. Wanting nothing more than to see his eyes once again. Simon gives in instantly, the tears soaking his mask. You try to wipe some of them away, but his fingers wrap around your frail wrist. For a second, you are convinced that he will push you away, but he does quite the opposite. With both of his palms, Simon presses your hand into his cheek. Leaning into your touch.

"You died... I held you," he says through heavy breaths, pulling at your heart, "You... the blood". You shake your head slowly. "Look at me", you say softly, coughing slightly. At the feeling of your dry throat, Simon is out of the chair, lifting the water jug to pour you a glass before carefully cradling your head as he helps you take a couple of sips. That's enough to chase some of the big emotions away. Enough to give time for Ghost to pull the iron mask back on, but his eyes still glisten.

"I'm here, aren't I?", you whispered, "That pink rug was too appealing to give up", you joke slightly, and it's enough to make Ghost let out somewhat of a chuckle. "You don't have to die to buy a rug for our room", Simon says, head turning to look at the monitor as if waiting to see something that would still prove to him that this wasn't happening. "You look like shit, LT. Losing sleep over a girl doesn't look good on you", you mutter, and Simon lets out a dry huff. "Because I'm a decent bloke, I won't comment on how you look", you let out a gasp in return, and that nearly sent him flying off his chair because the man is on such high alert that anything rings danger bells in his head now. "I'm okay, just trying to be dramatic with you", you say, squeezing his hand softly, trying to get him to calm down once more. Silence falls. Not an uncomfortable one. One that fully captures the shared amount of words running through both of your minds.

"I heard you, you know? Kind of pissed that you think that Jack deserved to get his heart broken," Simon snorts, running his fingers through his hair. His shoulders droop. All of the adrenaline that's been keeping him upright is finally wearing off. Leaving him feeling heavy and weak. "Should I get the others? Price would...", Ghost breathed, turning to get up, but you grabbed onto his hand quickly. "I just want you right now", you muttered straight away, realizing how dumb and desperate that sounded, "If you don't mind".

Simon scoffed, "Sugar, I sat here for three weeks begging for all the holy things that you would pull through", You bit your lip at his words. You knew that he did. You felt him. Heard him. Smelled him. He had been your lifeline all this time. "If I could, I would pull rank to get myself off duty so I could sit here till you fully recover", Ghost says, rolling his eyes, now doubtful at everyone who has been up his ass for not attending every single meeting. You smile at him weakly, feeling the little bits of your energy slowly giving out. Yet you still muster what's left of it to move your head up so you could run your fingers beneath Simon's eyes, where the darkest tired bags screamed about the lack of sleep he was getting.

"Get in bed," You tap the side next to you softly. You have no idea how you both will fit here, but you can't watch him practically fall asleep by your side. He had already spent way too many nights in that tiny plastic chair. "Shouldn't we at least go on a date first?", Simon jokes, making your cheeks grow crimson, and you're convinced that they are a dead giveaway of how you are feeling. "Oh, fuck you...", you huff, trying to frown, but the smile that tugged at your lips was too strong. "Lay with me, so you could sleep. So we both could sleep", you say once more, not letting go of his hand. With the size of this man, the bed will get crampy. But you didn't care. You needed to feel him close. To just know that he was with you. Fully. As if reading your mind, Simon got up, climbing into the bed from your good side. Making sure your uninjured shoulder was pressed against him.

"Is this okay?", he said after a moment of you two moving around to find a comfortable position for the two of you. "You can wrap your hands around me; you don't have to lay there like a log", you chuckled, tugging at his sleeve and urging him to cling onto you the way you were clinging to him. Ghost chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss your head. Your hand instantly moves up to cradle the side of his masked face. The feeling of the soft material soothing to your senses. "I fucking missed you", Ghost breathed after a moment of silence. Fingers running up and down your back. You slowly peeled your eyes open, fighting the tiredness just for a heartbeat longer. Meeting his soft eyes as looked down at you. "I missed you too, Simon. Been missing you since the moment I saw you", you smiled softly, turning to press a loving kiss on his chest, right over his heart, before you lay your head back, listening to the steady drumming.

[soap-ify]

nsfw mdni

okay but imagine being the teacher of single dad!soap's son! you teach in a nice, well-kept kindergarten — well liked by all the students, teachers and parents. how could they not? you were such a sweetheart. good with kids too, even if you initially thought you would be stiff around them.

relationships with students' parents was something you never gave yourself the luxury to even think of. it just seemed so unprofessional.

that all changed until you met one of your scottish student's parent on the parent-teacher meeting day. tall and nicely muscular, a nicely cut short mohawk on his head, royal blue eyes that just seemed so damn sweet and a big bright smile on his lips — john mactavish. he was like the sun, bright and powerful and the way he would call his son his 'wee bairn' — it was dangerously adorable.

he was so attentive to you, eyes sizing you up, carefully listening to each of your words. his child was doing great in this kindergarten, but his mind had soon drifted away from that. distracted by you. how could he not? he had just been so lonely ever since his kid's mother had left them, leaving him all alone to raise a kid at his own young age of twenty three.

now twenty-seven with a five year old son, he had even resigned from his military duties to focus on his son. but he was a bit tired, always alone and eager for some company despite already having lots of friends!

you were just so sweet to his child, a perfect teacher and a potentially perfect parent. that's why he made it his personal mission to get to know you better! for his kid, of course, definitely not for himself.

he had started accidentally bumping into you outside of the kindergarten, your meetings with him going outside the parent-teacher conferences. luckily you were single, and that just encouraged him more and more to go after you. not that he would let any man look at you anyways. he even offered you to tutor his son, despite the child already being nicely skilled. it was just an excuse so johnny could get to know you better.

tutoring sessions would turn into late night stays while johnny would tuck his son in bed before somehow convincing you to stay one more hour with him. he took full advantage of those nights, gently holding your hand and brushing his shoulder with yours. chaste little touches.

one particular afternoon, johnny invited you over to his house. apparently, he had dropped his son off to an uncle's house. finally, a full day alone with you.

it was all innocent at first, just casual talks about the everyday stuff. he even watched a movie with you! a sappy rom-com that made you cringe and laugh due to how hilarious it was. though he hadn't really been watching it, royal blue eyes solely focused on your reactions.

you didn't even notice how the time had passed by and the end credits had started rolling on the telly. but before you could get up from the couch, he had already grabbed your waist with his hands and pulled you closer.

"bonnie wee thing... i ain't lettin' ye get up. please say, pretty please?" he pouted, those pleading puppy eyes convincing you to stay with him on the couch. he had pulled you closer, strong arms keeping you tightly pressed with him. "cuddles?" he grinned.

an hour had passed into the cuddling session, your back flushed against his chest. all this time, you had felt his clothed cock rubbing against your plush ass through the fabric of your pants. you had tried to reason yourself, wanting to protest that you were his kid's teacher for god's sake. but you didn't. it felt nice. you knew how he looked at you, and you knew how fucking sweet he was to you. no one had been so caring towards you like him — cooking for you and even bringing you flowers whenever he came to pick his child up from school.

once you had gained some courage to nuzzle the back of your head against his neck, a switch on his brain just turned on and he was quick to turn you around, smashing his lips against yours. smothering your face and neck up with kisses, all while cooing sweet words into your ears.

"sweet thing. ye are perfect for my wee lad. wanna wife ye up so bad, keep ye in my house..."

all you could do was let out soft whimpers and moans, his hands effortlessly undressing you.

and before you knew it, he had fucked you full the whole afternoon and evening, thick cock filling up your hole, stuffing you full of his cum. might come handy later. leaving you as a tired, flushed mess. and the aftercare was godly. he cleaned you up with a wet towel, all while pressing kisses on your trembling thighs, your body so weak after all the orgasms he had pulled out of you. eight, or was it nine...? you couldn't remember.

he had used his tongue to clean up your fluttering, sore hole, though it was an excuse to somehow make you cum again. and oh, you did.

the night was spent in his arms, your exhausted body all snuggled up into him, a victorious grin on his lips. hopefully you didn't find him creepy, or a bit perverted. probably not, right?

the whole night he stared at you, thinking of more ways to make you fall in love with him, to somehow convince you to marry him. his son already liked you well enough, and so did he. it was perfect.

[saltofmercury]

Perception

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

A/N: I hope I did this some justice!!! Brown eyes are amazing 🫶🏻

"Perception"

“You gon’ miss me when I’m gone, hen?”

Leaning against the kitchen counter, one arm propping him up as he drank chocolate milk, Johnny eyed you in your living room organizing books. Sitting on the floor, legs criss crossed, as you continued to toy with a color scheme for your books. You peeped your head back and rolled your eyes.

You scoffed, 

“Yeah who’s going to kill the spiders?”

You were in no mood to talk. The little back and forth chase between Johnny and yourself had been happening for over 3 months. What you had planned to be a one night stand, ended up unraveling as multiple occurrences, multiple meetups between you two. It seemed as though the universe had different plans for you.

You had long forgotten about him. (Not really) Johnny had lingered by your door holding on your chin with his massive hand, towering over you, kissing you repeatedly.

“Thanks bonnie, fucks sake you’re really something else.” Lingering on your lips until 4AM.

With that he had disappeared.

A week after your hookup you had gone into a coffee shop to indulge in their chocolate chip cookies. Sure enough, Johnny was there having a cup of tea, mouth full of a dry scone. He peered right at you as you had paid, motioning you to come sit.

“Fancy seein’ you here. Are you stalking me? Was our night that good?” He smirked, towering over you.

“You’re in my country Johnny,” you said, rolling your eyes. The audacity of this man. He should’ve been gone by now. 

“Good seeing you!” You grabbed the cookie you came for and walked out. 

The second instance he had been filling his gas tank in the jeep he drove. 

Your machine didn’t take Apple Pay, so you walked into the store to pay. After walking out, Johnny was there, already closing the fuel cap letting out a whistle as he eyed you up and down.

“Swear we got to stop meeting up like this, pet”

Your back radiated goosebumps. Just how small was this fucking city that you couldn’t hide from your one night stand?

“We’re not meeting up, I’m getting gas.” You turned your back and you loaded the gas in your car. 

He laughed at you. “Aye, so am I”

“I’ll see you soon then?” he hopped in his car and drove away. 

You finished getting gas and then hopped in your car. A candy wrapper had been placed on your windshield. You got out again and noticed it said “Johnny xxx-xxx-xxxx”

You scoffed again. Was he toying with you? The man was a persistent flirt if anything. You tucked the phone number away in your jacket pocket. If he wanted to fuck you so badly it would be on your terms.

How great that turned out.

Johnny practically made himself at home, visiting you Friday night and Sunday nights. “Ending the week with an orgasm and starting the week with one” — was the stupidity he told you.

Then it became “let’s make Haggis, treat you to a real Scottish meal.”

The national dish of Scotland that you had immediately regretted putting in your mouth. You suggested cooking a “proper meal” for him next time. 

“Wha’ you gon make me a hamburger hen?” He pushed you slightly, making you blush.

“Fuck off I’m not a hamburger person”

“Aye and I love hotdogs very delicious” he continued to tease you. He never once saw you cook.

When you made him a pot roast, it ensured having him around all the time. He made small jokes about keeping you around and possibly marrying you. 

“Need me a hen that can cook”

He saw how it made you blush and how it also infuriated you when he said things like that. Another way he loved getting under your skin.

Now you are here.

You were going back to the sadness, bitterness, and loneliness that haunted you at night. 

Part of you wanted to speak up, tell him that you at least wanted communication when he left, but knowing him, he would dismiss your idea and talk about something else.

He spoke again from the kitchen,

“God… I think I’ll miss the milk here.”

You peered up from the book you were trying to place and spoke up. Defeated, you gave in.

“That’s all you’re going to miss?”

Johnny heard it in your voice. The small crack that emitted at the end. Your back was still turned and you focused on biting the edges of your tongue to not let the tears fall down your face. 

He didn’t want to be honest and scare you away, so he said something else. 

“And maybe your Sunday roast…”

You quietly excused yourself to the bathroom. “Hah, I’m going to have a shower.” Maybe the heat of the water would hurt you more than what he just said.

Neither of you brought it up again after that. Johnny apologized to you later that night, in only physical form, making you moan and shake in bliss. He kept the light on to watch your face release the tension from earlier.

“Watch me, pet. Look at me, I'm here.”

You made eye contact with him, brows furrowed as he was inside you. He looked at your eyes. Brown and spellbinding. He had always gone for the blue eyes, icy snowflakes that blinded him. However he noticed your brown eyes—loved that he was so hypnotized by them. Hues that brought him comfort and a place to be at home. God, how he would miss them, pacifying him and the simplicity of them, that made him feel so comforted and loved. He drowned himself in your eyes every morning, and swallowed them in his heart every night.

Two days later “Johnny” became “Soap” and went off in Asia to track down someone.

On the mission as they debriefed their next execution, Gaz, Ghost, and Price sat around a campfire. Once the team had a sure plan, they got sidetracked and began to talk about plans after this mission.

“Got any plans, Soap? You’re always traveling around the world.”

“Aye, might go to the states again,”

“Which American got you this time, MacTavish?”

Soap kicked the dirt beneath him and laughed heartily. 

“Aye Gaz, you know me too well.”

He hit the dirt with the toe of his boot and placed his hands on his tactical vest.

“Should’ve been a one night stand, but man those eyes kept popping out everywhere.”

Gaz looked at him, attempting not to laugh. Every woman or man Soap met, he fell in love with. It was hard to take him seriously.

“Let me guess blue?”

“Not at all mate, it was kind of like Simon’s eyes”

“You mean Ghost?”

“Aye you ever had a haver with Ghost and see his eyes?”

“They’re brown”

“You don’ get it mate.”

Soap was frustrated. How could he describe your eyes that brought him comfort and warmth? It brought mellowness to him and welcomed him home. 

Reminded him of the chocolate ice cream he shared with you one afternoon and how the bright shirt you wore made them pop out like the caramel candies he sucked on as a kid.

They reminded him of the sugary goodness he drank at your apartment while watching you do mundane things.

He would marvel at them when he told you to look at him as he thrust himself inside you. The sun speckled on your face as it heightened flecks of gold honey-amber, and brown swirling inside them. That’s what made him gush, that’s what made him come back and stay.

How simple your eyes were but consoled him and brought solace.

They would also bring fear to him when he took a joke too far and they would turn russet or deep brown, hiding your pupil.

“Aye…lass it’s a joke.” 

The intimidation coming out in his voice. But how hungry he felt to come closer to you in such a vicious and wild state. He loved when they turned almost obsidian, you on top of him holding on and crying his name out.

He mentally cursed himself for giving you space in his head. The danger he could put himself in — distracted by you. He knew he had to end it. Fuck being this lovesick over someone in another country. He finished his mission, deployed back to his country.

*

A month had passed since the mission.

Plowing through the countryside, he spotted an oak tree. Its branches were wild and open. It held some leaves on its branches, but grew unruly high in the air. The brown trunk, the earth surrounding it, all different shades of brown, all emotions parallel from your eyes.

He rested by it. He missed you a lot today. 

He missed waking up before you, drinking your chocolate milk while prepping your “bean water” coffee. 

He missed coming to your bed, placing the coffee by your nightstand, climbing on top of you, legs on either side of you as he watched as you slowly woke up to the aroma of the coffee.

He laughed because, the sun couldn’t wake you, him watching a tv in the room couldn’t wake you, but the scent of coffee could drag you out of unconsciousness. 

“Aye, so that’s what drags you away from death?”

You sat up, as he shifted back a little, still on top of you. Watched you drink your coffee and your eyes lighting up from the rays of the sun. A velvet shade of amber, lighting up your face, and making Johnny mesmerized.  

He mumbled and thought to himself,

“That’s my kind of heaven right there.”

“What?”

“Coffee’s real heaven aye?”

He came back to the city, heading into a coffee shop, ordering a scone that wasn’t as dry as the coffee shop by your apartment.

He trudged home, watching and hoping the Earth beneath him attempted to swallow him whole. The guilt of leaving you. The sorrow that filled his stomach. When he arrived home, it didn’t feel like home. Your eyes weren't there to greet him.

*

He said he would be back within two months. Four months have passed. After the third month you continued your life without him. Your tears dried up, your bathroom no longer had his hair around. His milk carton is spoiling in the fridge, his socks with hamburgers on it are still in your drawer, along with the blue hoodie he left you that night.

Those are the only things that you hold onto. A stone in your stomach settles knowing he’s not coming back.

You wouldn’t know how to reach him anyway. 

You wake up thinking how easy it was with him here. How much fun you had, getting a glimpse of domesticity with him. How you folded laundry with him, made dinners together, made love with the lights on because he loved seeing you unfold and watching your eyes disappear to a deep chocolate brown from euphoria.

Now you’re sitting in your apartment sorting the books you sorted four months ago, turning back every ten minutes hoping to see him raiding your fridge for the chocolate syrup.

Instead, a knock at the door—

You get up and open it.

Johnnys standing there, white, pink, and orange flowers in hand. 

“Got dropped off in the wrong country, pet.”

He’s standing there in front of you, smirk on his face. He’s not telling you he almost ran away from you.

He hands out the flowers to you, you’re in disbelief. 

You study him wordless, trying to get your brain to connect to your tongue.

He jumps back into your apartment, searching through your cabinets and fridge.

“You don’t have milk, aye…but you’ve got my syrup.” He clutches the bottle in the air.

You sigh out, “...yeah”

He looks at you, he sees the bewilderment on your face. He grabs your face and peppers kisses all over it before prying your mouth open with his, indulging in your tongue. He holds your face in between his hands, the lights in your apartment didn’t do your eyes justice.

“Over a hundred days without you, pet.”

“One hundred and twenty…” you breathe out.

He came back. He actually came back.

He’s got on a chain, a blue topaz stone hanging down and a darker yellow topaz right next to it.

When you ask him about it, he shrugs, says it so casually,

“I couldn’t find a gem dark enough for your eyes, but er–”

He holds the two gems in his fingers, shifting in his brain all the images he’s saved of your eyes.

“Just reminds me of us.”

[sgiandubh]

Out of the OL bubble

Sidenote: this post owes everything to the incredible sleuthing skills of an already longtime trusted friend, who wishes to remain discreet. All credit goes entirely to her - this is such an idiotic topic, yet the Ur Troll insists.

I answered one of you in the comment threads yesterday, that once you get the hell out of the OL bubble, things begin to make sense. Why? Well, because of distance and context, I suppose. And also because this always was the dirty little secret of our Dedicated Manipulative Trolls: to make you believe in a terribly poor narrative, fit for a linear world. A world without compromise, drama, secrets and lies. Collective lack of time, perspective and/or Internet research skills did the rest and gave birth to this monster: the OL Fandom.

We are now told and are supposed to believe that because Scottish Xena apparently chose on purpose (with this and only this, I could agree, but for opposite reasons) to show us she trains in a Cumbernauld gym, that means... well, you know the rest and it involves The Magic Golden Dirk. That troll was never exactly subtle, was she, bless her heart?

That mother and entrepreneur has a life of her own and an entourage of her own and business collaborations of her own and her own agenda. Some of it is shown on her Instagram account, most of it can be speculated. Connecting dots just for the sake of it is neither productive, nor remotely interesting.

Let's see, for example, how she reacts to a very insistent fellow German athlete, whom she is going to meet at the Hyrox Cologne event (13-14th of April, during the Landcon week-end):

😬😱

What is Flamingos Club? Nope, not an ikebana society, no:

Tee-hee.

They were there before, in good company, last year, when they actually first met (rings a bell?):

(April 2023, ok? I am still waiting for my own DeLorean)

Who is this guy?

Fellow athlete, HYROX Ambassador (something I bet the farm she wants to achieve) and a contestant in this year's German reality show First Dates Hotel, on VOX (https://www.vox.de/cms/sendungen/first-dates-hotel.html):

The concept is simple: a renowned German chef, Roland Trettl (no idea!) now takes his blind date cooking show to the next level, with singles from all over the country parked into a Spanish dream holiday resort (Mallorca), shake, stir and see whatever happens. The classical Endemol recipe, now produced by Twenty Twenty. It also has an UK version, running on Channel 4 (coincidence? I doubt that very much, thank you!).

On set, Max's 'love interest' is a certain Linda. He recently wrote her ' a sweet love letter', taking the good advice of his namesake cast friend Max-the-Bartender:

(I swear to God, I feel like I am prostituting my 🧠, right now).

There is obviously nothing to see, here (or is it, such as two wannabes desperately wanting limelight?). She leads the typical no strings attached life of a single mom and he is still looking for a real job:

Since VOX does not give his full name, neither will I. It took five minutes to find him, with a bit of luck.

Why on Earth would one connect that woman to S, rather than to this nice, ambitious Bavarian?

I know why. It's almost too damn easy.

Two words: Channel 4. Truman Show. Ginger and Fred (oops, these are Our Couple).

Is it anything we haven't seen before?

Nope. We've seen way worse. But gone are the Days of Flukenzie Floozy.

[Edited] - there is no need to further expose our people.

[crowthesley]

- It's basically about DT roles.

When I think that my life is a bad joke I reflect that it could be worse. It could be like the life of a David Tennant character. I could have a heart problem and need a pacemaker as I drag myself to death of my own accord, because I feel like I deserve this and I'm so tired of everything, but I still have so much to do and accomplish.

I could be a fallen angel with a love hidden for 6000 years, punished for loving the universe and the stars and for having questioned what no one else would have the courage to, abandoned by the love of my life right after kissing him and confessing my feelings and knowing that they are probably reciprocated.

I could be this neurodivergent, genderfluid alien who lost his home, his friends, his family, over and over again, with so much anger and fear and loneliness and despair and desire to be touched and loved and never lose anyone again, even though he knows it's impossible, and yet continues to move forward and help people even if they don't deserve it that much.

I could be a loonie, passionate about radio and music, with lots of family problems and a brilliant twisted mind. I could be the coward vampire hunter with a wig, fake beard and parents dying in front of me when I was a boy. Could it be this old man who spent his entire life sitting in an armchair, so many ideas and desires in his mind, without the courage to take a step forward and witness what his inner adventurer is capable of accomplishing.

I think the beauty of David Tennant's characters is that you can look them in the eye and feel like they are as broken and mistreated as you, or more so. You feel like you could be one of them, and that they're almost like you (but not you, Killgrave, for god's sake).

And you see these characters rising up and geting a good perspective in the midst of it all, and that comforts and motivates you. It's like an impulse that gives you the feeling that you can do it too. That you can turn a bad joke into something you can laugh at at the end.

And I think that's truly amazing.

(This thought actually cheers me up a little. But after all, even though the lives of these characters are pretty much messier than mine, I really envy their undeniable style, the elegant walk and the Scottish accent. Oh how I love the accent.

Right. This text suddenly became gigantic.)

Allons-y!

[homicidal-slvt]

"Heaven Knocked"

-

MDNI

-

John 'Soap' Mactavish x F!Reader

Civilian|Y/N

-

Inspired by @sofasoap

-

Warnings: Cheesy Fluff, Mention of asshat dudes

-

You have had so many bad experiences with pick up lines being thrown your way- eyes that wander in a way they shouldn't. Cockiness, self-righteous, and generally horrendous attitudes of men that cross your path.

Just recently yet another failed date where you were forced to sit and listen to a guy mansplain your own job to you.

God, these shitheads need to be glitter bombed.

Standing outside now beneath the harsh rays of sunlight, eyes cast out towards the rolling sea. The breeze at least made the heat not so unbearable.

The sound of a new pair of feet approaching dragged you out of your head.

"Beautiful day, yeah?"

His thick Scottish accent definitely peaked your interest, taking in his features carefully you felt your heart freeze for a second... Those eyes.

The rolling blue of them mimicked the sea perfectly, so much hidden beneath the surface- something you could certainly get lost in if you weren't careful.

So, for your own sake you quickly looked away.

"Yeah... It is a beautiful day..."

You weren't sure if the conversation was going to go anywhere or how to take it anywhere- this man is a stranger but you prayed he'd talk more.

You tried to convince yourself it's just because he has a nice accent.

Or maybe his little mohawk was endearing in a way.

Or those blue eyes-

No... Stop that.

"Ever go swimming out there?"

"What- no. Are you crazy?"

You looked at him as though he'd lost his mind- earning a laugh.

Who in their right mind would swim in the ocean?

Sure- people do it. But you wouldn't be caught dead stepping foot in that giant death soup.

"Bet it'd be cool on a day like today."

"I'd rather cool off with ice cream."

With a small flicker in his eyes he turned towards you, you created the perfect opening for him... He was wondering how to lead into this.

"How about we go get some ice cream, then?"

"Y'know what- sure."

••

Of course one date lead to several and you didn't regret chatting with that friendly stranger for a single moment.

Sure- he uses cheesy pick up lines nearly constantly... But it's sweet.

There is nothing shallow in the way he looks at you and there is never any 'just trying to get in your pants' type attitude.

Instead he just wants to see you smile and laugh, heart warming to say the least.

He waltzed into the kitchen and you knew just based off his grin.

"Johnny-"

"Bonnie ye won't believe what just happened."

"I'm sure I won't."

He wasn't even mildly discouraged by your remark, resting his hands on the counter keeping his eyes locked on you. Deep rolling blue.

"Heaven knocked and they want their angel back."

You knew it was coming but still chuckled nonetheless.

"Are you seriously going to use a pick-up line on me everytime you come over?"

"Yep."

"Won't you run out?"

"Not anytime soon."

You sighed and pretended to be annoyed... But you hoped he'd never run out.

It's not like other guys cheesy pick up lines... No... Never.

At this point you swore Johnny is the angel that heaven is missing.

"Think you're hiding some wings or somethin' from me..."

"Aha! I'm rubbing off on ye."

"Oh, cut it out."

-

{My brain is so silly recently.}

-

{@gothgirl6-6-6 @soupbinsoup }

-

{More Content}

[salternateunreality2]

How would our beautiful idiots name their children?

Lololol thanks for the ask!

For the sake of the exercise, let us assume that they don't have partners to tame their crazier instincts.

Cloud:

* Sky

* Claudia

* Fenrir (or any Norse god/goddess)

* (before Crazyroth) Sephora/Seraphina/Seifer

Our lovely chocobo is many things, but given his mother's choices...maybe creative names aren't his strongest suit. He names his sword "sword".

Zack:

* Kiddo (haha just kidding!)

* Spike v2.0 (haha just kidding!)

* Pupperoni (haha jus- ZACK STOP JOKING AND NAME THE DANG BABY)

* Jack

* Angeal

* Henry/Henrietta (after his dad who I HC as going by Hank)

* something normal and cute ❤️

He's a smart lad and a good pupper. He'd want to do right by his kids.

Sephiroth:

* (incomprehensible screaming)

* (deathly silence)

Then, once he's come to terms with the fact that he is now a father/mother to real children:

* Jenova

* Jenovo

* Gast

* Glenn, Matt, Lucia

* Sephora/Seraphina/Seifer

The guy named his sword after a guy who made swords. He is about as talented and creative as I think Cloud would be in this particular instance.

Lazard:

* He would name at least one of his kids after his mother.

* Very sensible names for the universe they're in. None of them would have the surname "Shinra".

* Olivia, Noah, Liam, Gabriel, Jade, etc.

(picked from common given names with similar origins to Lazard)

Genesis:

* Send help to his poor children. Please.

* Gabriel, Raphael, Michaelangelo, Castiel, Raziel, Evangeline, Angelica, Seraphina (NOT BECAUSE OF SEPHIROTH, he shall scream, which is a lie)

Basically anything with 3 or more syllables, bonus points for being biblical, angelic, or from Loveless or classical literature.

He is going to be LIVID when Zack points out how many of his favorite names are teenage mutant ninja turtles.

Angeal:

* Very sensible, wholesome given names, with fun and fancy middle names.

* Emma Consuela Hewley

* Johnathan Reynaldo Hewley, but he goes by Jack

He wants them to have an easy time in school and life, but he dearly loves fancy names, partly due to his beloved friends.

Kunsel and the Turks:

* None of your business and you will never know.

Reeve:

* Exclusively Irish/Scottish/Welsh/etc. names, the more difficult to spell, the better.

* Sinead, Saoirse, Pwyll, Gwawl

Roche:

* Same style as Genesis, poor babies.

[will-isonpills420]

SOAP X MALE READER

WARNINGS: NSFW, GAY SEX, Male X Male, DILF, name calling (daddy, little prince, love, baby boy), overstim

Soap was an awesome neighbor, always inviting you over for dinner when you got off of work, letting you come over whenever you needed.

He was a stay at home dad, with two 3 year old little girls who adored you. Sometimes you'd babysit if you didn't have work, if he needed to go to the store or the bank.

He always paid you for it, $100 for only an hour of watching the girls.

Tonight was different.

He invited you over for dinner, but his kids were no where to be seen.

"Where's the girls?" You ask softly, curiosity getting the better of you whilst he cooks dinner.

"With their mum for the weekend, she's been missing them like crazy," he replies smoothly, his thick scottish brogue making it sound like music in your ears.

He and the girls mother were divorced, right after she had the girls they split. Only recently was it finalized.

You knew he'd never seen someone romantically during the split, not wanting to dishonor the already crumbled marriage. After it was finalized though, you had no clue.

You decide to take it upon yourself to start chopping the veggies, working quickly with the knife, dicing and skinning the vegetables You worked as a cook after all, it was only right for you to help.

"Thanks darling," he says simply, working on the meat.

It makes your cheeks flush red a little. He had all these little nicknames for you; sweetie, darling, dear. It was just normal at this point, but it still made you blush.

You feel his hands slide onto your hips, hugging you from behind while he watches you dice some onions. He was quite a bit taller than you at 6'2, you only being about 5'9.

"Doing such a good job, little prince," he purrs in your ear, sending a jolt down your spine and to your crotch.

You had what they call daddy issues and his praise made your heart beat faster, blood rushing down there. You knew it was wrong, this man had children after all, but god did it feel good to hear his kind words.

His fingers rub comforting circles into your skin, slipping under the end of your shirt, making the skin feel ablaze wherever he touched you.

"Maybe I should just eat you instead," he murmurs, and that's when you feel it.

His boner is pressed up against your ass, something about you looking like a house spouse is doing things to him, and he can't help how turned on you make him.

"Soap," you gasp out, shocked at his actions but also turned on.

"Yes love?" He asks softly, hands slipping down to your thighs, playing with the hem of your shorts.

"I..uh..." You stutter, cheeks red and not knowing what to say.

"All I need is a yes, baby boy," he murmurs, rubbing your skin softly with his calloused hands.

"...yes," you whisper, and he turns you around and kisses you, lifting you up by the thighs and placing you on the counter away from the food.

Your lips feverishly connect, need and lust drowning out any rational thoughts.

"Daddy," you moan in his ear, teasing him, trying to be at least a little in control.

His bulge presses against your own as he stands between your legs, and you feel it grow.

"Fuck, making it so hard for me to hold back, you've got such a dirty little mouth baby boy," he groans, hands sliding up your shorts, fingers teasing your boner. Your hips buck, a gasp falling from your lips. Its all music to his ears.

"Daddy I need you," you continue, rolling your hips against his to drive him crazy.

He immediately moans and picks you up, carrying you to his bedroom while sucking on your neck.

He gently lays you on the bed, slowly slipping your shirt off, being gentle.

"How do you want it? Gentle or rough?" He asks, and that's when you realize how much more experienced he is than you are.

You're a virgin at 24, when he's a 30 year old with kids for Christ's sake.

"Uh..." You trail off, unsure of what you wanted.

"I'll be gentle first and then get rougher," he suggests, slipping off his own shirt and working on his belt buckle.

You want to tease him, so you stick your hand down your pants, palming yourself through your boxers, moaning and watching his eyes get a look of pure lust.

"Awwe, so needy for me already? Am i not touching you enough?" He coos softly, slipping off your shorts.

"Touch yourself like a good boy while I get the things I need," he orders softly, kissing your forehead before he removes his pants and walks to the bed side table, grabbing a pack of condoms and lube.

You continue to rub yourself, letting out little moans and gasps as you do.

He comes back and slowly slips off his underwear, before reaching to do the same for you when you stop touching yourself.

His pupils dilate when he sees you, cock leaking and red, pretty little legs spread open for him. He groans and leans down kissing on your thigh, looking up at you almost desperately.

"Let me taste you," he purrs, an order, before he slips his lips over your tip, licking up the precum your length is oozing out.

"Just fuck me already," you whine, and he obliges, rolling on the condom and putting on some lube on his fingers.

He starts with one finger, stretching you, curling it as he watches you unraveling underneath him. Then adds another until your stretched enough.

He slowly pushes into you, your eyes closing tight at the slight burn.

"You're taking it so so good love, fuck, squeezing me so good," he groans, and he bottoms out.

He starts rolling his hips into you, making you moan and whine as the tip teases that bundle of nerves.

Slowly his gentle rolling turns into desperate rutting, pounding you into the bed, hitting that sweet spot.

"You're daddy's little boy, huh? You like how good i fuck you? How i pound that tight little ass?" He dirty talks you so good, and it sends you reeling.

"Gonna come, fuck, s' good daddy," you whimper, head dizzy and swimming.

"Go ahead and come baby, such a good fucking boy," he moans, pounding into you more.

You unravel under him, back arching off the bed as you release onto your own stomach.

He starts to huff like a dog, breathing heavy and quick from the way you squeeze around him, it fuels him to rut faster, hand now wrapped around your sensitive cock, jerking you off while he pounds into you, reducing you to a teary whiny mess.

"Too much daddy, can't take it," you whimper, thighs spasming and cock twitching.

"Yes you can, you're doing so good baby boy, just a little longer," he purrs, moving faster, pulling another orgasm out of you.

You cry out as he finally comes, feeling the condom fill as he fucks into you a bit more, loving the way your walls milk him.

He slowly pulls out and kisses your forehead.

"Since you were such a good boy, you can take my card and get anything you want tomorrow," he murmurs, kissing your cheek and throwing out the condom as he cleans you up with spare baby wipes.

"Thank you daddy," you whisper, cuddling up to him.

"Mmm, baby you look so cute all red and fucked out," he murmurs, holding you tight.

He holds you the rest of the night, loving on you and caring for you.

Just like a daddy should.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OMGGGGG :DDD

[starsoftheeye]

TMagP 17 Reaction

Pre-Episode

I've discovered that acting disinterested literally makes the episodes show up earlier on my youtube account, so I've gotta play mindgames on this app every thursday to get to see the episodes less than half an hour after they release lol

Pre-Statement

Ah Celia is back on her bullshit

Wait did she just nearly get ran over???

I feel bad for laughing at her but her only reaction being "Oh for gods sake" is super funny to me how long has she been doing this

oh hi sam

oh god she missed their date :[

something tells me a habit is going to be made of this, especially considering she literally cannot help it

"it really wasn't" yeah no wonder you nearly became roadkill

theyre so cute i love them

ooh shes mad

Statement

"catalyst" huh, have we heard that before or is this the first time

pfft not the interviewer getting read to shreds

wild theory before i keep going, based on the title "saved copy" and the "identity crisis", "existential horror", "temporal distortion" and "captivity" tags, im going to assume that this person going to therapys having the details of their life copied somewhere for something to replicate and replace them, and the doctors gonna attempt to get rid of them but obviously it didnt work. either that or the guy outside the office does something

as someone whos never done meditation before this is not encouraging me to start

ah office spaces, the worst of cosmic horror

wait did they get teleported or something

tbf if my taxi driver started driving completely the wrong way i'd assume the worst and start "exchanging words" too

oh my god was i right

wait is this copy based on their therapy, a version of themselves with no problems whatsoever? and is this gonna be a "there can only be one" type scenario?

oh wait no i forgot siblings exist

wait nvm them having the same name is weird

"dates and times" so this is where the temporal distortion comes in ig

yup

i'm sticking with the "rich-darrien is a copy trying to assimilate into og-darriens life" theory for now

yeah because thats not normal darrien, even if youre related no-one looks completely identical apart from glasses, teeth colour and a lack of a beer-gut

do they both think the other is the copy, or does sharron just not know?

oh god what is he hiding

does he beat up a real person every time hes upset

of course it was his father that makes sense

oh my god the sound design

oh my god he's the one who assimilated thats so cool

good for sharron i hope shes doing okay

off-topic but i love the way the voices get more real as the statement goes on then go back to their more robotic tone at the end

Post-Statement

as a celia fan i am eating well this week jeez

celia my dear what do you mean by that "not exactly the same though, it is?" girlie what have you done what are you hidinggg

alice!

who was playing the music in the background there?

as someones whos computing department in school consists of keyboard with never-before-discovered types of bacteria wedged between the keys thats valid

alice dyer i love you so much

ah the dyhard is dyharding

ah yes the mutual "i'm traumatised and i know you are too but i don't like you enough to give details on mine or ask about yours so we'll just sit and suffer in silence til the ice somehow breaks" dynamic

also colin mention woohoo i love the scottish man

the computer start up noise and power down noise at the beginning and end of every episode kind of makes me think that someone is watching all of this (maybe us, or more likely someone in-universe)

anyway that was fun, i'm doing this late but this was a nice way to spend my first proper off-day since finishing all my exams

[ingravinoveritas]

How are you doing after all the lovely new GO/David and Michael content we got today? I'm just so happy they're back together again, and that we are getting so close to season 2!!!

Hi, Anons! Oh my goodness, what a day it's been. Anon #1, you've asked how I'm doing, and the truth be told, I'm genuinely emotional. I don't think I truly realized how much I missed seeing Michael and David together until we finally got them in the same interview today, and those photo call pictures.

The thing is, it's not as if we haven't seen them at all over the last year, as both Michael and David have been busy with work and different projects. They've both done interviews and appearances on their own, but there's just something that comes into being when they are together that's missing when they're by themselves. This third thing between them, that is so palpable it's almost visible. We know Michael and David are closer now than ever, but it's as if the chemistry between them has grown and transformed into something much, much deeper.

To your point, Anon #2, I absolutely did notice that Michael and David nearly held hands at the beginning. I think it was Michael who attempted first, then David, before they settled on linking arms:

What gets me about this--what got me earlier when I watched it and still does now--is how instinctive and natural it was for them to reach for each other's hands. I had a feeling prior to this, but it seems almost certain that they have held hands before. Neither one of them hesitated for a second, except for seemingly having to stop themselves from holding hands and linking arms instead. The contrast becomes even more stark when you see the video of Nicole Kidman and Zoe Saldana walking onto the set in a similar manner--it's incredibly awkward, and there is none of the warmth or chemistry that Michael and David have in abundance.

The other part that stood out to me about this woefully short and inadequate interview was how toned down Michael and David both were. This is particularly noticeable when Michael is describing Good Omens and refers to David/Crowley as "my best buddy":

There is a lot happening here, not the least of which is both of them looking completely disgusted as Michael says that (the "meh" head nod from David, and then Michael sucking his cheeks in and looking like he's choking on his own bile). I think both of them were/are under specific instructions not to talk about the second season or share anything that could be construed as "spoilers" (including but not limited to The Thing, which you know they were both dying to talk about), so that is certainly a large part of why this went the way it did.

But there does seem to be more going on beneath the surface. We saw David in the photo call earlier today wearing a "Leave Trans Kids Alone" t-shirt under his jacket. Yet here on the One Show, he is no longer wearing the shirt. It doesn't seem farfetched to guess that the BBC asked him to change out of the shirt, and Michael--not wanting David to stand out for the wrong reasons or get flak for it--changed his own clothes in solidarity.

The strangeness is further compounded by something that was pointed out to me by several folks via DM, which is that in the pictures from the photo call, David is visibly not wearing his wedding ring:

As we know, David always wears his wedding ring, which makes its absence even more conspicuous. Could he have simply forgotten it on the nightstand in Michael's hotel room? Sure. But what makes things even weirder is that he is indeed wearing the ring on The One Show. So, to recap: David is not wearing his wedding ring when he has the trans pride t-shirt on in the photo call, but he is wearing it when he doesn't have the trans pride t-shirt on on television.

What this leads me to think is that someone--the BBC? Amazon? PR?--is making some specific (homophobic) marketing choices, which in this case means trying to sell the show to a mainstream (a.k.a., straight) audience, and therefore told Michael and David both to tone down the gayness (as if that's even humanly fucking possible for either of them) overall, but especially when talking about the characters/plot.

Taking all of this into account, what happened later in the interview is even more glorious, which is Michael giving the biggest "fuck you" to all of the above (BBC/Amazon/PR) by doing what he does best: Being Michael--because when can he not?--and (again) calling David's hips "slinky," followed by getting in a good, long, loving, sexy stare:

All of this leads me to your comments, Anon #3. I know you had sent this prior to now, but I wanted to include your Ask here because I think it speaks to exactly what we saw today. I've thought about what you've mentioned so many times, because that's exactly what I think Michael and David do and are for each other--a safe place, and they have truly helped each other through some of the hardest times in their lives.

Thinking about David's anxiety, I find that especially poignant given today's events, and how vocal David has become in recent months. I think he deliberately wore that trans rights shirt and that rainbow pin because he knew how much reach they would get...but at the same time, I am sure he knew the risk of doing so, and that it would set him up as a target.

It's very easy to imagine David feeling that anxiety before the photo call today, knowing what he was going to do, and Michael calming him--maybe even holding him in his arms if they had some time alone this morning. And when they came out onto the set of The One Show, you could see Michael nearly bursting with pride and love as they walked together. Even when they got flustered nearly holding hands, as soon as they linked arms, they both became so calm. It felt as though Michael and David were a united front--on their side--and while David flashed a big smile to the camera, Michael could not have given two shits about it, because he was holding onto David and never letting go.

Michael couldn't say the things he wanted to today, but that's not what today was about. It was about him stepping back and giving David room to be in the spotlight and to shine. Soothing David's anxiety and encouraging him to be vocal the way Michael has been for the past four years. He's supporting the man he loves, and it is so beautiful to see.

So yes, those are my thoughts on the new GO and Michael/David content from today. I'm truly hoping that Michael and David have an opportunity to do an interview where they can be totally unleashed and say exactly what it is that's on their minds. But I'm still so glad to see how much relief and joy it brings them to be back together again, and I hope they'll get to do it a lot more in the weeks ahead. Fingers crossed...

[skippyangel16]

The Couple Next Door my thoughts…

Link here for a ‘real’ review from that neck of woods👇

👏👏👏

👆This just about sums it up for me, a real review from a real paper not a paid promo success piece from Hello or channel 4 blowing its own trumpet. If you google the series IBMd has it rated 5.2/10 at the moment of writing. (Saying something is brilliant does not make it so, unless you want to brainwash. Kenneth springs to mind taking a whole year+ to talk up Belfast so he would finally get that Oscar for the not so outstanding Belfast 🙄)

The Guardian Nov 2023 promo it as The couple next door a sexy fantastic time …4 stars but then by the 3rd Dec it’s no longer raving about it with an honest review.👇

https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2023/dec/03/the-couple-next-door-channel-4-swingers-thriller-review-slow-horses-3-arena-being-kae-tempest-the-doll-fctory?CMP=share_btn_link Barbara Ellen exert from review 3 Dec 2023 still the guardian…

Exert from link above by Barbara Ellen..

Well for me TCND started off with a ‘OMG not again!’ for the opening shot. I said to hubby ‘I hate it when they do that!’. The second scene supposedly set in Leeds wtf? Why didn’t they find a more convincing housing estate…then (Sam) Danny picking up the washing machine…dear god it made me cringe and that’s just for starters!

Sam…I could not get past his ‘Yorkshire’ accent?… well he did his best, it came through well some of the time. It’s sad but production were aware they were not going to predominantly film in Yorkshire or substitute location with a suitable comparison so why the need for him to do a Yorkshire accent? They could have set this story anywhere. Why not let Sam do his normal Scottish accent ? Far more sexy! Bad decision imo.

I could go on…especially the ladies dress code for a casual UK BBQ, LMAO. For sure my neighbour and I need to up our game at our next one! Seductive dresses, tits out and heels on! Husbands can’t wait…🤣

Does it appear Sam was hired for his body?…absolutely! Is he typecast as the guy who does sex?…looks like it. If he wanted to up his stakes as a good actor imo this was not the project. Can he do chemistry with anyone but Caitriona?… barely, but this was his best effort so far. Sex scenes and build up no 🔥 for me. I found it more cringe so fast forward came into play. Seems Sam is okay with full nudity and grinding again so can’t wait for OL S8! No need for J&C sex scenes to be PG…

Continuity, script, direction, production…dear god did outlander do it?

Out of all the actors Jessica De Gouw (Becka) stood out with a consistent performance.

Gripping? Nah, wanted to give up many times but finally got past ep 3 and pace seemed to increase so eventually got to the end which was then suddenly abrupt.

I wanted to like it, but for me it was blah…should have been amazing! Fail is more down to script, direction and production, had a giggle most of the way through at the script and said wtf and why a lot? ….🤷‍♀️still they all had fun making it and got paid!

For those who thought it enjoyable and hot I am really pleased for you! Sex for sex sake came to my mind, script all over the place one minute quite good another that’s shit.

For me in the words of a true Yorkshire man…

Maybe if I had a couple of wines with the cheese and knew it was not going to be a quality drama but a cheesy soap it would have gone down better.

Strikes me his fate in life is to be an alcohol god, that’s his true path…acting gave him his wife and family and that’s all he needs from it. It appears it’s not in his destiny for it to do anything more than that…🤷‍♀️JMHO

So if you haven’t seen it and want to then I suggest lots of wine and lower your expectations to a tv movie or soap and you will probably enjoy it and think it’s better than it was…🤪

[scotianostra]

January 26th 1926 saw was the first public demonstration of live television.

The face used to demonstrate it belonged to Daisy Elizabeth Gandy, the business partner of John Logie Baird, the Scottish scientist who is regarded as the inventors of the mechanical television. The mechanical television, also known as “the televisor” worked a bit like a radio, but had a rotating mechanism attached that could generate a video to accompany the sound. It preceded the modern television, which creates images using electronic scanning.

In 1924 Baird managed to transmit a flickering image across a distance of 10 feet and the following year, he had a breakthrough when he achieved TV pictures with light and shade. Within two years this flicker was the face of a woman who was in a different room.

The historic 1926 public display took place on January 26th, in a laboratory in Soho in front of members from the Royal Institution and a journalist from the Times. Although the pictures were small, measuring just 3.5 by 2 inches, the process was revolutionary.

“The image as transmitted was faint and often blurred, but substantiated a claim that through the ‘televisor,’ as Mr Baird has named his apparatus, it is possible to transmit and reproduce instantly the details of movement, and such things as the play of expression on the face,” wrote the reporter from the Times after the demonstration.

As innovative as the demonstration had been, the journalist wasn’t convinced that it would take off. “It has yet to be seen to what extent further developments will carry Mr Baird’s system towards practical use,” they wrote.

Still, that was better than the reaction of the Daily Express newspaper who, when Baird approached them with the invention in 1925, kicked him out. The news editor at the time said:

“For God’s sake, go down to reception and get rid of a lunatic who’s down there. He says he’s got a machine for seeing by wireless!”

After the display, Baird continued to develop the mechanical TV and in 1927 he transmitted content across a 438-mile long telephone line between London and Glasgow. He went on to set up the Baird Television Development Company, which produced the first transatlantic broadcast and the first live transmission of the Epsom Derby. Baird developed colour TV and brought out the world's first mass-produced television set in 1929 and from then until 1937 the BBC used Baird’s company for its television broadcasts.

The mechanical TV didn’t last much longer, however - it was outstripped by the electronic television in the 1930s. This didn’t deter Baird, who continued to work in television innovation and eventually gave the first demonstration of a fully electronic colour TV in 1944.

Baird died after suffering a stroke on June 14th 1946 in Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex aged 58.

[crustaceousfaggot]

Hob Gadling traditional folk music collection.

Been thinking about a sort of Hob Gadling character playlist composed entirely of British folk music. Songs he might have listened to throughout his life and resonated with. This is also just a little excuse for me to share some of my favorite folk songs from across the history of the British Isles :) Most of these are British in origin, but a couple are Scottish.

Some of these choices are loosely based on the fic And In The Waking World We Want And Wait by @qqueenofhades because at this point it's basically canon to me and has considerably influenced my perception of the character. Furthermore, I'm writing this with Dreamling in mind because... Well because I want to.

I'm attaching recordings for each piece, but keep in mind that, by the nature of folk music, songs (both melody and lyrics, as well as accompaniment and performance choices) are intrinsically altered in every performance and there is no single correct interpretation of a piece. If you don't like the recordings I picked, I encourage you to seek out your own :)

I am not a music historian, just a classical singer with a love of traditional folk and a cursory education on music history.

Lastly, keep in mind that folk music in the Late Medieval and Early Modern music exists in a much different form than it does today, both in its lyrical and melodic content. Of the songs surviving from that period, the majority are liturgical in nature. Those that aren't are generally about farming, changing seasons, and (of course) drinking. I've done my best, but most of these pieces aren't perfect fits. Still, what character playlist is?

Arranged in rough chronological order.

1200s: "Sumer is icumen in" (composer unknown) (Note: This song is the oldest recorded English language folk song. I think that's pretty neat.)

Sumer is icumen in Loude sing cuccu (cuckoo) Groweth sed (seed) and bloweth (bloometh) med (meadow) and springeth the worlde new

(Full text)

~1450: "Tappster, Drinker" (unknown composer)

Tappster, Drinker, fill another ale, Anonn God sende us good sale. Avale the stake, avale, here is good ale y founde. Drynke to me and y to the and lette the cuppe goe rounde.

(This is, as far as I can tell, the full text)

~1513: "Pastime with Good Company" (King Henry VIII)

Youth must have some dalliance Of good or ill some pastance Company methinks then best All thoughts and fancies to digest. For idleness Is chief mistress Of vices all Then who can say. but mirth and play Is best of all.

(Full text)

1500s: "The Ballad of Tamlin" (composer unknown) (Note: Yes this one is @landwriter 's fault. Go read Oaths. Also, I'm using one of many translations of the original ballad, but there's also an excellent folk punk adaptation by The Forgetmenauts which you should listen to if you like the story. Generally, I'm not doing this ballad any justice with my little 2-line snippet and I encourage you to look into it more yourself.)

"For if my love were an earthly knight as he is an elfin grey, I'd not change my own true love for any knight you have."

(Full text)

~1580-1650: "Greensleeves" (composer unknown)

Alas, my love you do me wrong To cast me off discourteously And I have loved you so long Delighting in your company

I have been ready at your hand to grant whatever you would crave; I have both wagered life and land Your love and good will for to have

(Full text)

1700s: "A Maid in Bedlam" (composer unknown)

My love he'll not come near me To hear the moan I make, And neither would he pity me If my poor heart should break, But, though I've suffer'd for his sake, Contented will I be, For I love my love Because I know he first loved me.

(Full Text)

1800s: Black is The Colour of My True Love's Hair (composer unknown) (Note: although the most famous variations of this piece are from 20th century America, the piece is believed to have originated in Scotland some time in the 19th century.)

Black, black, black is the color of my true love's hair, His lips are something rosy fair, The fairest face and the gentlest hands I love the grass wheron he stands.

(Full text)

1813: "The Last Rose of Summer" (Thomas Moore) (Note: I was a bit conflicted about adding this one. The song is about the pain of losing those you love to time, and the loneliness that comes from outlining your companions, both of which are sentiments I feel are very applicable to Hob. However, the song also implies that death is a mercy in the face of such loneliness, which obviously doesn't align with Hob's worldview.)

'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes and give sigh for sigh.

(Full text)

1902: "Whither Must I Wander" (Ralph Vaughan Williams, from the song cycle "Songs Of Travel") (Note: This is technically not a true folk song but shhhhh. This was the song that inspired this whole list because I absolutely adore Vaughan Williams and particularly this cycle.)

Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces, Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child. Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland; Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild. Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland, Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold. Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed, The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.

(Full text)

1904: "In Dreams" (Ralph Vaughan Williams, from "Songs of Travel") (Note: I will not apologize for using two pieces from the same cycle. Y'all don't understand I'm so autistic about these songs. Also, I had to pick at least one song with "Dream" in the title haha.)

In dreams unhappy, I behold you stand As heretofore: The unremember'd tokens in your hand Avail no more. [...] He came and went. Perchance you wept awhile And then forgot. Ah me! but he that left you with a smile Forgets you not.

(Full text)

1946: "Come you not from Newcastle?" (Arr. Benjamin Britten, original composer unknown) (Note: Although the text of the song itself doesn't necessarily have any strong Hob Vibes, the most widely known arrangement of this piece was done by Benjamin Britten, one of the country's most famed composers and also a fairly open homosexual. This, combined with the text of the song and the time that this arrangement was written, gives the song a distinctly queer vibe, at least to me, and so it makes the list. The recording attached is by Britten's life partner, Peter Pears.)

Why should I not love my love? Why should not my love love me? Why should I not speed after him, Since love to all is free?

(Full Text)

And that's all of them! Please let me know if you have any traditional folk songs you know that fit the bill, as I'm always looking for more good traditional folk music. It holds a special place in my heart :)

Consider reblogging if you got anything out of this post, since I did spend quite awhile on it and I'd love it if it got out to the wider Sandman fandom.

Resources: 1 2 3 4