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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 3 years

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The OTHER Members of Eve’s Coven

Me and @lilmissrantsypants couldn’t fit all the coven in as cameos in chapter 3, so here’s a rundown on the members who didn’t make an appearance. I added some of the stuff that inspired us into making the characters, My wife just went crazy with descriptions for her characters.

Aleister & Tantomile Deering: A pair of twins who were orphaned during WWII. They had to scrape by to survive, with Tantomile whoring herself out for drug money. They were turned when Aleister begged for help as his sister was overdosing. They were plagued by psychic visions as mortals, their powers awakening fully when they were turned. They are practically inseperable nowadays.

Power: Aleister and Tantomile have innate psychic abilities, activated by touching someone. Tantomile can see into a person’s past, while Aleister can see multiple outcomes the future could hold and then latch on to the most likely scenario. Their vampiric power is a twin link that allows them to experience the emotions the other one does, as well as keep them connected.

Inspiration: The psychic cat twins Tantomile and Coripocat from Cats

My wife came up with the basic concept and we workshopped them together from there; it’s a joint effort. She does Tantomile, I do Aleister.

Bartholomew Comstock: An overly aggressive puritan who was despised by his fellow townsfolk, he was banished from his New England home and forced to start a farm on his own. He nearly perished in the winter before Eve turned him. His hatred at being a disgusting, demonic creature such as a vampire is only ameliorated by his knowledge that Eve, having once been the angel Samael, ‘confirms’ his beliefs and allows him to eternally punish those he views as sinners.

Power: He believes his power gives him great strength against sinners, allowing him to inflict pain upon those who have done foul deeds. In truth, it is actually his own sins that give him strength, though his power does weaken as he exerts himself or runs low on blood (he cannot become unstoppably powerful).

Inspiration: The dad from The VVitch

Beatrix Cullen: Beatrix Cullen was a happy woman once, a skilled seamstress in the 1950s who simply loved the act of creation. She had an adoring boyfriend, and the two were set to be married, with Beatrix making a gorgeous wedding dress for her special day. But on that day, her groom never arrived, as he had been killed in a car accident on the way. Stricken by grief, Beatrix was easily convinced by Eve to join her coven, with the promise that perhaps her power could help her bring her husband back some day...

Power: Beatrix can imbue any object such as a sculpture or statue with life, essentially making golems without a magic scroll. Her most trusted golem is her mannequin, Manny, who often tries to steal her wedding dress. Her ultimate goal is to use her natural skills and her power to bring her husband back to life, stitching a Frankenstein monster of him and pieces of sleazy men who hit on her into a perfect flesh golem.

Inspirations: The bride from the Haunted Mansion, Kill Bill, Frankenstein, that one Tumblr post about 50s housewives fighting zombies with chainsaws, La Pascualita, Pegasus from Yu-Gi-Oh

Blanche Atterton: Daughter of Lady Drusilla Atterton, she grew up wanting nothing more than her mother’s love, though her mother was often far too preoccupied with “other things” (which she later learned was all of her plotting and planning to ensure her riches).When given the choice for vampirism, she excitedly vowed her loyalty to her mother and Eve. As she was only 15 at the time and children would not survive the turning, her mother waited until she turned 21 before turning her.Blanche does everything for her mother’s attention and love. She doesn’t hesitate to do her bidding in hopes of her mother praising her for it. She’s misguided, not evil, though her mother’s praise has given her a superiority complex and she’s a bit of a narcissist.

Power: Blanche’s power gives her a powerful, painful scream. Those within 5 feet of her screaming will suffer from temporary deafness for 5 minutes. Whether they fall deaf or not, bleeding from the ears is very common, especially among mortals.

Inspiration: Drizella from Cinerella

Dee Comporre: Giorgio Nero’s faithful, somewhat obsessed bodyguard. She quite obviously has a crush on him due to her hatred of any woman who so much as interacts with Giorgio, though Giorgio just sees her as being a bit overprotective. She has a shaved head, and paints her face to look like a skull.

Power: She can secrete and spit a powerful corrosive acid that can melt through even metal.

Inspirations: D’Compose from InHumanoids

Dorian Ferris: A serial killer known as “The Ferryman,” who always leaves coins over his victim’s eyes. As a mortal, he had far too many close calls, and was nearly caught several times, particularly during a bout in a town back in 1999. He tends to target wicked people such as domestic abusers, rapists, crooked cops, and so on, sending them down the River Styx ahead of time to make the world a better place. He willingly joined the coven to escape punishment. More than anything, he just wishes to live a quiet, peaceful life.

Power: Has luck manipulation, which can allow him to do everything from dodge attacks by near misses or turn his surroundings into a Final Destination movie for opponents. He tends to activate a particular mode based on the whims of a coin toss.

Inspirations: Jinx from Teen Titans, Final Destinatiin, Two-Face, Yoshikage Kira

Elizabeth Bathory: The Blood Countess herself. After evading death in the 1600s thanks to Eve, she became a loyal follower of the demon, and was recruited into the Order of the 1800s. Dracula and Rasputin managed to defeat her and supposedly kill her, but Bathory is notoriously hard to slay. True to her infamous reputation, she tends to “Feed” by bathing in the blood of her victims.

Power:Bathing in blood gives her an insane power boost; the longer she soaks, the stronger she gets. She can also absorb blood through her skin, though she can’t absorb the blood of supernatural beings this way.

Elvis Rey: Growing up near the border, Elvis always wanted to be like his hero, Elvis PResley. He obsessively watched the man’s performances and learned his every move. When the man died, he vowed he was going to become the greatest Elvis impersonator that ever lived. The 80s weren’t too kind to him, and drinking, gambling, and overeating left him looking like chubby later-years Elvis. With debt collectors crawling down his neck, he turned to Eve, and became a powerful vampire.

Power: He is capable of replicating any non-supernatural ability he sees. For example, if he watched a martial arts movie, he would be able to pull off those moves. Think the comic book character Taskmaster.

Inspirations: Elvis (Presley), Elvis (God Hand)

Giorgio Nero: Giorgio Nero was a member of Cosa Nostra who attempted to retire from this life due to his wife and child. However, his past would eventually catch up with him, and his child was nearly killed, which lead to Giorgio accepting an offer he had once rejected, but now couldn’t refuse: vampirism and joining with Eve’s coven. Despite everything, he is an honorable man who dearly loved his wife and adores and accepts his child.

Power: You know Magneto? Like from X-Men? Imagine that but instead of a Holocaust survivor it’s an Italian guy. Boom.

Inspirations: Magneto, Risotto Nero from Vento Aureo, Metlar from InHumanoids

James Wilson: James was born in 1812 as a slave. When he was 8, he was gifted to the man one of his master’s daughters married, along with 13 other slaves. As his former master’s name was Wilson, he took that as his surname. He worked as a stablehand until he became a farmer at age 12. After a rather brutal beating when he accidentally dropped a bag of freshly picked potatoes at age 25, James encountered Eve. She promised to help free him. She turned him into a vampire (1837). He lived on the run until the Emancipation Proclamation was issued and went into full effect in 1863. James used to speak in thick, Gullah speech, but over time, it has lessened as he acquired modern language.

Power: James’s power gives him the ability to summon and play with water. He can use it however he wishes: to drown someone, to create a small unnatural pool to swim in, or to cool someone off with a quick sprinkle. This comes from his silent love for water, though he wasn’t ever allowed to swim or play in it.

Inspiration: Splash Mountain

Juno Nero: The child of Giorgio Nero. They tend to wear long black coats, masks, and facial bandages to hide their face and body due to extreme anxiety. They are mute as well, and communicate via sign language. They are nonbinary.

Power: They can stretch their body like rubber (think Elastigirl, Rubber Band Man, Plastic Man, you get the idea).

Inspiration: Tendril from InHumanoids

Lady Drusilla Atterton: Born in 1852 in England as Drusilla Graham to a middle-class family. She grew up idolizing the wealthy and decided she would do whatever it took to become wealthy herself.Met Josiah Kipling, a 28 year old man, when she was 22. He fell madly in love with her. She was overjoyed as he was quite wealthy. They married in 1874 and had two daughters together (Katharine [1875] and Blanche [1877]). However, after 8 years of marriage (1882), Drusilla (now age 30) fell out of love with him and secretly laced his food with rat poison, ultimately killing him. As they had personal chefs, it was deemed to be the fault of the chef, who was arrested and charged with the crime. As his widow, she inherited a share of his wealth.Over the next 10 years (1882-1892), Drusilla married 8 other wealthy men from all over the country, all who mysteriously died less than a year later in what were deemed to be unfortunate accidents.

Donald Thompson, married in 1883, died in a carriage accident.

Maurice Parker, married in 1884, died of a laudanum overdose.

Timothy Edwards, married in 1886, died by drowning

Christopher Watson, married in 1887, died by falling out of a second story window

Nathaniel Harris, married in 1888, died of apparent suicide

Bernard Carter, married in 1890, died of a hunting accident

Percy Clarke, married in 1891, died after being attacked by a burglar

Timothy Atterton, married in 1892, died in bed (cause unknown)

She met Eve in 1892 shortly after marrying Timothy Atterton. Eve had heard of her reputation as the Cursed Widow (but knew full well her husbands’ deaths were her doing). As Eve was extremely weakened, Amon turned her. With Eve’s assistance, she killed her final husband by scaring him to death by introducing him to Eve. Drusilla vowed her loyalty.With the knowledge of how to turn another from Eve (as Amon refused to tell her how), Drusilla offered the gift of vampirism to each of her daughters. Katharine ( refused and cut herself off from her mother, instead choosing to live a full and honest life. Blanche, on the other hand, being so keen to be accepted and loved by her mother vowed her own loyalty to both her mother and Eve. When she turned 21, Drusilla turned her as well (as she was informed that youth would not survive the turning).

Power: Her power allows her to paralyze her target with a simple cold stare for a full 5 minutes.

Inspiration: Lady Tremaine from Cinderella

Lord Gordon Ruthven: A rich, aristocratic vampire who enjoyed luring in and preying on young women. He was part of the Order of the 19th century. He is currently a severed head, as his body was destroyed by the Silverwings.

Power: Can exude a charm aura that makes women more susceptible to his commands and desires, though it only works on women capable of being attracted to him (it would not work on lesbains, for instance).

Mabel Lockhart: A sickly young girl whose father made a deal with Eve to keep her from dying. Her dad is currently missing, and she is unsure if he’s even alive.

Power: She has the ability to absorb energy, such as steam energy, electrical energy, etc and gain boosts and power depending on what type she absorbs. For example, absorbing electrical energy would allow her to to shoot lightning. She can also absorb a person’s energy, but at most she can make them very lethargic and gets little else from absorbing that sort of energy.

Inspiration: Loosely based on the Pokemon Magearna

Maddox Hinton: Maddox was born in 1863 in a small town in England. He doesn’t talk much about his past, but he does boast about how he and his father were valued hypnotists in their small town. He was his father’s apprentice, learning how the art of hypnotism worked, though he wasn’t quite as successful as his father. This was what Eve used to convince him to turn to vampirism. It occurred when he was 25 and preparing to take over the family business.His power helped him convince his customers that they were actually under the effects of hypnotism. His father simply believed that taking over the business helped him tap into his true potential.

He continued this way until Eve demanded his help. He lied to his dad, telling him he was going to travel abroad and spread their business, causing his father to take over the business once again.Maddox served Eve for a few years before she told him she didn’t need his help anymore. It was likely this that irritated him so much that he eventually became loyal to Amon while under the very convincing facade he’s loyal to Eve.

The rest of his past is unknown. All he will often tell people is he traveled all over the world, performing great feats under fake names as “world-renown hypnotists”. Maddox is a wild card. He does things for the fun of it or for his own pleasure, often without any sympathy towards others.

Power: Maddox’s power allows him to take control of another (similarly to Gabby’s). However, he can take control of up to two people at once. Instead of physically puppeteering them, he simply suggests they do something and they do it.

Inspiration: Vex from Lost Girl

Margaret Derwin: Margaret was born in New York City in 1902. She grew up with a love for music, particularly singing. She had dreams of becoming a famous singer.When she was 18, she pursued these dreams. She got a job as a dancer at a speakeasy with hopes of, eventually, being able to become one of their singers in time. It was there that she met Elizabeth, one of the other dancers. They secretly fell in love (which answered Margaret’s confusion about why she wasn’t interested in men). Eventually, they decided to run away to California together. They made plans and prepared for this, but on the day it was to happen, Elizabeth never showed up. Margaret later discovered she had changed her mind and, instead, was going to marry a man she’d met at the speakeasy.Eve found Margaret heartbroken and wandering the streets looking for a new job after quitting at the speakeasy (as it was too difficult to continue working there when Elizabeth was still there). Eve easily wooed her to her side. Though, as Margaret had good intentions, Amon had eventually been able to convince her to assist him instead as he wanted to ensure Eve would stop preying on innocent people like herself.

Power: Margaret’s power involves her voice. Through singing, she can influence one’s emotions depending on her intentions (anger them, seduce them, calm them down, soothe them to sleep).

Nora: Nora’s memories are very faded. She knows she was born to a very poor family in Ireland. She knows she was sold as an indentured servant at age 13 in exchange for her tickets to America, board, and food. She knows she worked for that American family for 7 years. She knows she caught influenza and was promptly fired by the family for fear she’d infect them all. She knows she was near death, wandering the streets alone, when a massive black snake promised to save her. At the time, Nora believed it was just an illusion. She found out the next day, however, that it was not. She’d been saved by the gift of vampirism.Nora lived a long, long time as a homeless woman. She watched as America grew into a country of its own. She preyed on any she could find in order to survive. Eventually, she took residence in an abandoned house on a street. Over time, rumors spread that a ghost lived in the house on Blackwell Street. Her appearance and her power did much to add to this as well, as did the occasional mysterious deaths of those who wandered into the house hoping to catch a glimpse of the ghost.

Power: Nora’s power allows her to become visible or invisible on command. She can only switch from one to the other every 10 minutes. She often uses this to frighten mortals and uphold her identity as the Ghost of Blackwell Street.

Tony Sugar: Tony Sugar is the owner, spokesman, and iconic figure of the Lost Paradise Candy Company. With the help of Amon, he became one of the first successful Black candy makers in America. He’s very flamboyant, campy, and charismatic—essentially a black Willy Wonka. He is pansexual because, in his own words, “everyone deserves a little Sugar.” He is also an avid beekeeper.

Power: He has the power to “mellify” corpses, filling them with a honey-like substance and turning them into zombies.

Inspirations: Tony Todd’s Candyman, Ruby Rhod, the song “Sweet Bod,” the myth of the mellified man

Walter Sherman: Formerly a college professor and devoted family man from the dawn of the 20th century, Walter was a good man known for always thinking forward and being able to accept new changes in the world. However, when a freak accident claimed the life of his wife and child, he couldn’t handle it and attempted suicide before being saved by Amon. He’s mostly in the coven out of loyalty to Amon.

Power: He has the power of adaptability, allowing him to easily adapt to any situation. For example, using lightning against him would make him adapt lightning resistance.

Inspirations: The Carousel of Progress

Wayne Nicol: A formerly friendly clown who was forced to witness unspeakable horrors during WWII. He survived the horrors, but was left fundamentally disturbed by the nightmare he had lived through. He joined the coven hoping to find some sort of safety, but as it turned out, Eve had other plans.

Power: Has the power to control and manipulate a person’s fears to weaponize against them.

Inspirations: Scarecrow (Batman), Pennywise, Freddy Krueger, The Day the Clown Cried

#The vampirino story

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f4liveblogarchives · 3 years

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Fantastic Four Vol 1 #236

Mon May 04 2020 [08:31 PM] Wack'd: IT'S A MILESTONE!

[08:32 PM] maxwellelvis: A triple-sized issue, eh? [08:33 PM] Wack'd: All your favorite Fantastic Four characters are here! Wyatt! Norrin! Agatha! Franklin! Namor! Willie! Impy! T'Challa! And, uh. I guess some other folks? [08:33 PM] maxwellelvis: I'm going to guess that's a double-sized Byrne story and then a regular-sized one by Stan and Jack. [08:33 PM] Bocaj: Ah yes captain america and reed richards in one place at one time in a time and place that isn't the ill received special avengers 300 roster [08:33 PM] maxwellelvis: That's the rest of the Marvel Universe heroes here to party. [08:33 PM] Wack'd: Yes. [08:33 PM] Wack'd: Why isn't Alicia on this cover. [08:34 PM] Wack'd: Or, like, any number of Fantastic Four repository players. [08:34 PM] maxwellelvis: Had to make room for Stan Lee. [08:34 PM] Wack'd: Also who's that guy in the suit? Is that...Collins, maybe? [08:35 PM] maxwellelvis: I just told you. [08:35 PM] Wack'd: Oh [08:35 PM] Wack'd: ...where's Jack? [08:35 PM] maxwellelvis: Either he's on the back or John Byrne knows which side his bread is buttered on. [08:36 PM] Bocaj: maybe he's behind the special triple sized sticker [08:36 PM] Bocaj: Like he got Mike Wachowski'd [08:36 PM] Wack'd:

Clint: I can't believe it... Wanda: Oh, Clint, I'm so sorry... Clint: I'M ON THE COVER OF *FANTASTIC FOUR*!

[08:36 PM] maxwellelvis: 🤣 [08:37 PM] Wack'd: Can't believe Bocaj beat me to essentially this same joke [08:37 PM] Bocaj: My secret is that I didn't bother putting in extra effort [08:39 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, let's start our first story, shall we? [08:39 PM] maxwellelvis: Indeed. [08:40 PM] Wack'd: Oh good, we're doin this

[08:40 PM] Wack'd: I think this is our first real, proper origin retelling. We got one in the late 70s but it was less a retcon and more "this is a recap issue, please don't kill us if we fudged some details" [08:40 PM] Umbramatic: welp [08:42 PM] Wack'd: I guess instead of "first to the moon" it was "make it further into space than anyone else"

[08:42 PM] Bocaj: Time keeps on slipping, slipping into the future [08:42 PM] Umbramatic: what is time [08:42 PM] Bocaj: I know that the Slott FF has the idea instead that the rocket was FTL and they were trying to get to a specific planet, which turns out to be full of assholes [08:44 PM] Wack'd: So here's egg on my face [08:44 PM] Wack'd: The dialogue from this scene is taken note-for-not from #1 [08:44 PM] Wack'd: This isn't actually retconning anything at all, except for that one narrative caption [08:45 PM] Wack'd: Oh, and the addition of some jargon

[08:47 PM] Umbramatic: CAPTAIN SPACE ICEBERG AHEAD [08:47 PM] Wack'd:

[08:49 PM] Umbramatic: this is intense [08:49 PM] maxwellelvis: Both version are pretty intense. [08:49 PM] maxwellelvis: I'm noticing the dialogue's been slightly rewritten on the new version. [08:50 PM] Wack'd: Very slightly, mostly just to add technical terms you'd expect a rocket crew to be using [08:50 PM] Umbramatic: aha [08:50 PM] Wack'd: All of the original lines are still there, though [08:50 PM] maxwellelvis: And to keep Ben's manner of speech more consistent [08:51 PM] Wack'd: Punctuation is a bit different [08:52 PM] Wack'd: OH SHIT, WE'RE DOIN' THIS

[08:53 PM] Umbramatic: oh. OH [08:55 PM] Wack'd: In this reality, Reed's a college professor, Sue's a housewife, and Ben and Alicia are married and running a tavern. All in a little town creatively named Liddleville. [08:55 PM] Bocaj: Our Town Founders made a decision there [08:55 PM] Wack'd: Our Town Founder is Josiah Liddle [08:56 PM] Bocaj: Lets cut the head off his statue [08:56 PM] Bocaj: Like in the Jetsons [08:56 PM] Wack'd: Oh, also, Alicia can see in this reality. Alicia offhandedly mentioning she saw something makes Ben real happy and he has no idea why [08:57 PM] Bocaj: Hmm. [08:57 PM] Wack'd: But I do! It's this creepy fucker

[08:57 PM] Umbramatic: oh boy! oh BOY! [08:58 PM] maxwellelvis: We're actually doing the "Perchance to Dream" thing, aren't we? [08:58 PM] maxwellelvis: Is THIS where B:TAS got that idea from? [08:59 PM] Wack'd: Pretty sure they stole it from For the Man Who Has Everything [08:59 PM] Wack'd: Which incidentally won't exist for another three or four years [08:59 PM] maxwellelvis: Wild how time works [09:00 PM] Wack'd: Another dream sequence, this time for Sue! And with much more dramatic changes [09:01 PM] Wack'd: This time, Ben's complaints about safety concerns are much more substantial, and Sue's accusation that Ben is a coward is more to do with time and money running out to do this experiment and less to do with, uh [09:01 PM] Wack'd: Commies [09:03 PM] Umbramatic: "I'm going to the one place free from capitalism... SPACE" [09:03 PM] Wack'd: Also this happens

[09:03 PM] Umbramatic: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH [09:04 PM] maxwellelvis: It's a nice touch that in those first two panels, the Thing is more leathery, like he was in the early comics, and it's only when Reed starts stretching that he looks more rock-like [09:04 PM] Wack'd: Yeah, I liked that too [09:05 PM] Umbramatic: oooh [09:05 PM] Wack'd: So Reed, Johnny, and Ben meet up at Ben's tavern to discuss these dreams, and whaddayknow, they've all been having them [09:06 PM] Wack'd: Tragically, Ben's dreams give him super-strength, but no rock skin. Dream!Ben is scared to ask Alicia to marry him--but he doesn't know why. [09:08 PM] Wack'd: Reed then goes to work, where he's having problems with his dickhead boss.

[09:09 PM] Wack'd: Reed decides to try and work out what's up with these dreams, dozes off, bonks his head, and realizes when he wakes up that he is actually a superhero, and the Puppet Master is responsible for all this. [09:10 PM] Umbramatic: wha [09:11 PM] Wack'd: Reed, trying to figure out why he doesn't have stretching powers, makes the very smart and scientifically motivated decision to stab himself in a vein and bleed out in his office. [09:12 PM] Umbramatic: oh [09:12 PM] Umbramatic: i diagnose you with dead [09:13 PM] Wack'd: It's okay though! Turns out he's a robot and the blood is all fake. So are the bodies of Ben, Sue, Johnny, Alicia and Franklin. [09:13 PM] Umbramatic: ...IS DOOM IN ON THIS TOO?! [09:13 PM] Wack'd: It takes Reed no time at all to convince his friends and family of this and go confront Phillip. [09:14 PM] Wack'd: Wow, uh, you're ahead of me here, Umbra [09:14 PM] maxwellelvis: Lucky guess [09:14 PM] Umbramatic: damn this is the second thing i've predicted tonight [09:14 PM] Wack'd: Phillip apparently just wanted to give Alicia the life he thought she wanted, but Reed points out he doesn't have the tech to do this all on his own. [09:15 PM] Wack'd: Phillip, it turns out, has made the very smart and not-at-all-suicidal decision to mind control Doctor Doom [09:15 PM] Umbramatic: oh this is gonna be goooooooooooooooooooooood [09:15 PM] Bocaj: Oh geeeeeeeeeeeez [09:16 PM] maxwellelvis: This should be good. [09:17 PM] Wack'd: Of course this is Doom we're talking about. He doesn't make mistakes, he just lets people figure things out for stupid ego reasons.

[09:18 PM] Wack'd: God, the fact that this isn't an illusion, the Four, Franklin and Alicia are trapped in tiny robots, is a lovely extra layer of bonkers. [09:18 PM] Bocaj: Amazing [09:19 PM] Wack'd: ALSO "LIDDLEVILLE" ISN'T A SMALL TOWN JOKE, IT'S LITERALLY LITTLE [09:19 PM] Wack'd: INCREDIBLE [09:20 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, Reed asks Doom what his next move is, and Doom...doesn't have one [09:20 PM] Wack'd: He's just gonna leave them like this [09:20 PM] Wack'd: Forever [09:21 PM] Umbramatic: DOOM: "I don't know, I never thought I'd get this far.” [09:21 PM] maxwellelvis: The fact that he's resisted the urge to play Godzilla now that they know he's the one who orchestrated this shows he has way more willpower than I [09:22 PM] maxwellelvis: Assuming the shock of dying in robot bodies wouldn't wake them up. [09:23 PM] Wack'd: They do have one ace in the hole--Phillip! After all, Phillip's in this mess because he mind-controlled Doom, but he's not an idiot, surely he has an escape hatch. [09:23 PM] Wack'd: Well turns out he did. Doom turned it off. [09:23 PM] Umbramatic: oh [09:23 PM] maxwellelvis: Womp womp [09:23 PM] Wack'd: Reed examines it through and tries to see if he can get it to work anyway. [09:24 PM] Wack'd: Ben, meanwhile, is taking all this really hard. [09:25 PM] Umbramatic: aw... [09:26 PM] Wack'd: He's also decided to stay in Liddleville. The world has other superheroes now, and he's earned a normal, idyllic life. [09:26 PM] Wack'd: (The fact that Doom turned off all the fake villagers does not seem to be something he's noticed.) [09:27 PM] Umbramatic: Ben: The Last Man On Fake Earth [09:28 PM] Wack'd: So! Here's the plan. Turns out Doom built a real miniature particle accelerator at Reed's fake miniature college because Reed would spot a fake. [09:28 PM] Wack'd: So all they have to do is get it to spit out some cosmic rays. Easy. [09:28 PM] Umbramatic: excuse me what [09:29 PM] Wack'd: To which part? [09:29 PM] Umbramatic: the first bit mainly [09:29 PM] Wack'd: Yeah uh [09:30 PM] Wack'd: Doom wanted to taunt Reed with some cool science he couldn't play with to make Reed miserable [09:30 PM] Umbramatic: omg [09:30 PM] Wack'd: But he also knew Reed would know if it was a fake cool science [09:30 PM] Umbramatic: that's deliciously petty [09:30 PM] Wack'd: It issssssss [09:30 PM] Wack'd: So, as they're debating who gets a power up first, Ben has a change of heart and demands to go first. [09:31 PM] Umbramatic: Ben: This is insane. ...I’m in. [09:33 PM] Bocaj: Hahah [09:33 PM] Wack'd:

Alicia: ben you dingus i literally sculpt real people with pinpoint accuracy, you've seen my work, and also we've touched each other...a lot... Ben: Yeah I know but I got that danged body dysmorphia

[09:33 PM] Bocaj: Aww [09:34 PM] Umbramatic: awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww [09:34 PM] Wack'd: I joke because I love [09:35 PM] Wack'd: Ben/Alicia 4ever [09:35 PM] Umbramatic: ye [09:35 PM] Umbramatic: (though i felt the body dysmorphia part) [09:37 PM] Wack'd: With their powers restored, all they have to do is fight a bunch of miniature robots, scale the walls of their fake city, climb up to Doom's workstation... [09:37 PM] Wack'd: Aaaaaaand he took the battery out. [09:37 PM] Wack'd: Now the workstation can only turn left 😛 [09:38 PM] Umbramatic: -gasp- [09:39 PM] Wack'd: So! New plan. Use the Liddleville river to flood Doom's office, stick some live electrical wires in there, and hope the alarm goes off. [09:39 PM] Wack'd: No dice. [09:39 PM] Wack'd: They're gonna have to find Doom and bring him to them. [09:40 PM] Wack'd: And since Reed and Ben have fairly limited top speeds, and Johnny's flame can run out without rest, this task falls to Sue. [09:41 PM] Wack'd:

Reed: No! I can't permit you to go against Doom alone! Sue: Please, Reed! Must we go through this every time a dangerous task falls to me? I've proven time and time again that I can handle myself in an emergency situation. I'm the only one who can go. And you know it.

[09:42 PM] Wack'd: Sue puts up a good fight against Doom, pelting him with force fields, but she's still as big as a fingernail, and all he really has to do is put a cup on her like she's a bug he's found. [09:43 PM] Wack'd: But the goal is accomplished. Doom is going to check and make sure the other three aren't making any trouble. [09:43 PM] Wack'd: Just like they wanted. [09:43 PM] Bocaj: Good job Sue [09:43 PM] maxwellelvis: Was this inspired by the 1967 Fantastic Four cartoon intro? [09:45 PM] Wack'd: ...hahahaha it coulda been! [09:45 PM] Wack'd: Oh hey, that's where this meme comes from

[09:46 PM] Umbramatic: this was a meme? [09:49 PM] Wack'd: 106k notes on Tumblr [09:51 PM] Wack'd: AND SO! Doom does not blindly stride into this childish trap, and then electrocute himself. [09:51 PM] Wack'd: He angerly fires some energy beams at the childish trap because he feels insulted. [09:51 PM] Wack'd: And then Reed, Johnny, and Ben use their powers to trip him into the childish trap. Which electrocutes him. [09:52 PM] Bocaj: Wow [09:52 PM] Bocaj: bad show doom, good show reed, ben, johnny [09:52 PM] Wack'd: This somehow instantaneously shunts everyone back into their real bodies. [09:53 PM] Umbramatic: welp [09:54 PM] Wack'd: Also, Doom is now in a stasis coma in his suit. [09:54 PM] Wack'd: To ensure he stays that way, the Four decide, well... [09:55 PM] Wack'd:

[09:57 PM] maxwellelvis: I must admit I am curious to see how he gets out of this one eventually [09:59 PM] Bocaj: If you die in Liddletown you die in real life [09:59 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, the quote-unquote "brand new story by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby" is a rejected script for the 1978 animated series, adapting Doctor Doom's first appearance. [09:59 PM] Wack'd: It is also not available here. So I am going to write it off as no big loss and move on. [10:02 PM] Wack'd: I did like this story, though! I think it coulda stood to spend a little less time on the mechanics and a little more time on how everyone felt about this situation, but overall it's really good.

#1981 #John Bryne #The Main Book

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years

Text

Here’s another story from the universe of my original novel, What Hindered Love. This is Micah’s version of the story when Chloe showed up at church but ran before he could talk to her (chapter two). Since this is so early in the book, it doesn’t really give much away, so if you were on the fence about getting my book, you could give this a read to see if it piques your interest! If it does, you can get What Hindered Love here .

Words: About 2,500

Rating: T

Tagging: @snowbellewells @teamhook @xhookswenchx @ekr032-blog-blog @sherlockianwhovian @superchocovian @thislassishooked @ohmakemeahercules @kday426 @onceuponaprincessworld @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @bethacaciakay @whimsicallyenchantedrose @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @tiganasummertree @captainswanapproved

Summary: Micah Barrett has never given up on the tiny spark of hope in his soul where Chloe Wren is concerned, even if everyone thinks he's crazy. And then he sees her again after five years . . .

Five years ago, Chloe Wren had declared that she never wanted to see Micah Barrett again. Then she had proceeded to make good on that promise. His family and close friends thought surely Chloe’s declaration would be impossible to accomplish. How could she and Micah parent a child together and never see one another? But Micah had known Chloe better than that. When she set her mind to something, there was no changing it. Especially when it came to protecting her heart behind those walls of hers.

But that didn’t mean that Micah didn’t look twice every time he saw a flash of blonde hair. It didn’t mean that he didn’t attempt contact whenever he received those rare text messages about their son. After a while, he started to wonder if he was merely seeing things when those flashes of gold flitted in the corner of his vision. There was hope, and then there was desperate insanity.

So when he saw a familiar figure with long blonde hair darting for the door during the worship set at Community Fellowship, he thought at first he must surely be imagining things. The last place Chloe Wren would ever be was at the church his father pastored. Even so, he almost lost his place in the music staring at the door she had just slipped out of. He literally almost dropped his guitar when his sister-in-law Kate followed the figure. Could it really be? Could Kate have convinced her cousin to come to church?

But wait . . . if Chloe really was here, so was Luke. Micah’s eyes darted down to the front of the sanctuary. Sure enough, there was the familiar dark head of his five year old son, returning the flag he had been waving to its bin. As if Luke could sense his father’s gaze, he looked up and grinned at Micah, then waved. Without even waiting for a response, the five year old took off to join the other children who were lining up for Sunday school class.

Micah blinked in amazement, startled out of his shock by Hannah’s voice in his in-ears. They were transitioning to another song. He pulled his concentration to his music stand to be sure he had the right chords. Once he was strumming the familiar sequence, his eyes drifted back to the sanctuary doors. Suddenly, his heart pounded in his chest. There she was. Chloe. Just as beautiful as ever. She was here! He could scarcely believe it!

The rest of the worship set passed in a blur, and when Micah took his seat on the front row beside his mother, he kept turning around and craning his neck to find Chloe, but she was too far back to pick out. His mother gave him several odd looks and finally leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“I’m guessing you saw Chloe.”

His eyes grew wide as he took in his mother’s expression, which didn’t look particularly pleasant, actually. Of course his mother knew Chloe was here, she would have seen Luke too. Elizabeth Barrett patted Micah’s knee in a comforting gesture, but her eyes and the firm set of her jaw seemed to hold a reprimand.

Well, he didn’t care what his mother thought. If Chloe was at church, the hope that he still held – barely flickering, but still there – wasn’t in vain.

~~~~~~❤❤~~~~~~~

Micah bolted for the back of the sanctuary as soon as his father’s closing prayer ended, even though half the congregation tried to stop him to chat. Being the son of the pastor meant everyone felt as if they knew him, everyone assumed he was their friend, so after every service he and Josiah felt pressure to greet and chat with pretty much everyone. Today, Micah didn’t really care if he hurt someone’s feelings, he was a man on a mission.

He came to a stop at the sanctuary doors, turning in a circle, scanning the crowd.

“She slipped out already.”

Micah turned towards his brother who held his two year old daughter Haley in his arms. Josiah shifted Haley, avoiding Micah’s gaze.

“You knew she was coming today?” Micah asked in an accusatory tone.

“We weren’t sure . . . “ Josiah trailed off as Micah gave him a withering glare, “Micah!” he called out after him as his brother bolted out the door.

He only got as far as the lobby when he collided with Kate.

“Oh my God!” he gasped, dropping his hand to hover over his sister-in-law’s burgeoning stomach.

Kate laughed merrily, “I’m fine, Micah! Bumping into a pregnant woman isn’t an unforgivable sin.” She regarded him intently as she straightened her back, “And she’s gone anyway.”

Kate looked at him sympathetically as he visibly deflated.

“She didn’t want to see anyone,” Kate further clarified.

“Me you mean,” Micah corrected, “she didn’t want to see me.”

“You know,” Josiah said, coming up behind his brother, “for two people who have a child together, you have horrible communication.”

“Josiah,” Kate scolded. Then she turned to Micah and laid a comforting hand gently on his arm, “She came, Micah. That’s a start.”

That tiny flicker of hope inside of him sparked upward.

~~~~~~~❤❤~~~~~~~~

“Micah, would you please stop wearing a rut in my carpet.”

Micah sighed and turned towards his mother who was spooning batter onto a cookie sheet. He wandered from the living room and into the kitchen, swiping his finger into the bowl of batter, being sure to snag as many chocolate chips as possible.

“Get your finger out of the bowl!” his mother reprimanded, moving to swat his hand. Before she could, he popped his finger into his mouth and grinned as the sweetness melted onto his tongue. His mother’s smile contradicted her scolding.

“Why are you making cookies, anyway?”

Elizabeth shrugged, “I just felt like making cookies. And what better excuse than my grandson coming over?”

“You spoil him.”

“Aren’t I supposed to?”

Micah thought about that as his mother slid the cookie sheet into the oven. His mom had to be more than a grandmother to Luke in the early years. Just one more reason Micah was thankful to God that he had conquered his addiction. Now his mother got to just be a grandma.

Micah still had so much nervous energy. Where were Chloe and Luke? He went to the window and peeped through the blinds.

“You don’t want her to think you’re a stalker,” his mother said behind him.

Micah turned and regarded his mother’s rigid stance. “You don’t agree with this at all, do you?”

Elizabeth sighed as she came closer. “She said she never wanted to see you again, son. Maybe it’s time you move on. There are so many other wonderful young women –“

Micah lifted his hand to cut her off. Lately, his mother had been asking when was he going to date again, when was he going to settle down, when was he going to find a mother for Luke. Couldn’t she see? Didn’t she understand?

“There’s no one else for me but Chloe, mom. There never will be. If there’s even the tiniest hope that we can have a relationship again, I have to take it.”

Elizabeth dropped her eyes for a moment, and when she lifted them again, they were filled with sadness. She reached up and cupped her son’s cheek. “I just don’t want to see you get your heart broken again.”

“Too late for that, Mom. My heart has pretty much stayed broken for the past five years.” He heard a car pull up outside, and his eyes lit up at the same time his heart flipped over in his chest. “They’re here!”

Micah headed for the door and stepped outside just in time to see his son running full tilt around the house and down the front walk. His grin widened as he crouched with open arms to receive his little boy’s hug. He heard footsteps and looked up to see Chloe standing there, her expression looking startled. He would have to proceed with caution. She looked like a skittish deer ready to bolt.

Micah stood, ruffled Luke’s hair, and looked over his shoulder at Chloe, a nervous smile on his face and his hands stuffed in his pockets. Elizabeth’s voice called out from inside the house about fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. Luke whooped with excitement and raced inside.

Micah’s gaze took Chloe in like a man who had seen water again after years in a dry desert. Her golden hair was gathered in a messy bun which couldn’t seem to contain the wavy tresses. Tendrils curled fetchingly around her face which glowed with minimal makeup. Even the nursing scrubs she wore couldn’t hide the inviting curves of her figure. In short, she took his breath away. Then again, that was nothing new. Micah smiled at her, trying to convey casual confidence even though his stomach was flipping over, just like the first day they met. He suddenly realized he was standing there, staring like an idiot. So he spoke, and he inwardly winced at his awkward choice of words.

“After you were at church Sunday, I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind seeing me,” his smile faltered as he took in Chloe’s cold glare. “Judging by your reaction, I was wrong.”

Chloe crossed her arms and tilted her chin haughtily. “You’ve had five years of opportunities to see me, Micah.”

Micah’s defenses went up, and anger flared within him. Chloe had a way of stoking every fire in his soul. “That last time in court, you made it pretty clear that you never wanted to see me again.”

“And you made things pretty clear yourself. Or have you forgotten what you said to me that day?” Chloe’s chin quivered as she spoke.

Micah looked at her intensely for a moment, tenderness in his gaze. “I hurt you terribly, Chloe. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret that. Won’t you ever forgive me?”

An eternity seemed to pass before Chloe sighed. “Of course I forgive you, Micah. You’re Luke’s father.”

It wasn’t what he wanted, but for now, it would have to be enough. Micah stepped closer, unable to resist the temptation to be closer to her. His heart thrilled when she didn’t step back. Chloe tipped her face up, and he felt himself drawn in to the sparkle of her amber eyes. He admired the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her adorable nose, and resisted the urge to thumb that irresistible dimple in her chin.

He swallowed hard. He wanted to grab her and kiss her. Instead, he asked her sincerely, “I’ve changed so much since then, Chloe. Can’t we be friends?”

He felt slightly wounded when Chloe’s mouth twitched in a suppressed laugh at his suggestion. “I remember you asking me that years ago. Didn’t really work for us, did it?”

He noted the breathless nature of her voice, the slightly flirtatious delivery of her words. A smile tugged at the corner of Micah’s mouth and his eyes darted to her lips.

She took a step back, and Micah hated the sudden distance between them. “I don’t think we can be friends, Micah.”

As she turned to go, he remembered a heated, passionate kiss followed by similar words. Lord, he prayed inwardly, I’m in this for the long haul, but she just might kill me in the meantime.

“Will you come back to church?” he called after her.

Chloe gave a brief glance back. “I doubt it.”

Micah quirked an eyebrow this time when he smiled. “I know what that means, Wren.” Her back stiffened at his use of the nickname, so he changed tactics. “Your friends miss you.”

Chloe ignored his statement, turning her back again and walking quickly away. He waited until he thought she was out of ear shot before adding:

“I miss you, Wren.”

Feeling slightly dejected, Micah turned to head back inside. After closing the door behind him, he saw Luke standing there, eyes wide, a chocolate chip cookie clutched in his little hand. When he looked up into Micah’s eyes, Luke’s own flashed with indignation. His eyes may have been the same color as Micah’s, but the irate look in them right now was all Chloe.

“Mommy is mean not to be your friend.”

Micah ran a hand wearily down his face. How did he handle this? He knelt before his son and ran a hand over his unruly hair.

“Mommy’s not mean,” he said carefully, “she’s hurting. We just have to be patient with her, okay?”

Luke’s face fell, but he nodded. Micah needed to get his son’s mind off his mother, so he grinned and tickled the boy.

“I see you got me a cookie,” he teased.

Luke’s eyes widened, “This is my cookie, Daddy!”

Micah made a half-hearted swipe for the cookie, and Luke squealed as he darted away. It only took Micah two strides to overtake him, and he swept Luke into his arms, biting the cookie in half as he did so.

“Daddy!” Luke giggled, “Not fair!”

“Not to worry, my boy,” Micah declared as he ran into the kitchen, carrying Luke like Superman, “there’s more where that came from.”

He lowered Luke over the cookie sheet, and the five year old snatched two handfuls. Micah made an over-the-top evil laugh as his mother half-heartedly scolded that they would ruin their dinner.

Elizabeth Barrett shook her head as she watched her son and grandson fall into a heap onto the couch. She refrained from reprimanding them for all the crumbs they were scattering everywhere. Her son only laughed when his little boy was around. She wasn’t about to miss out on that sound.

Elizabeth glanced towards the front door. She had overheard the conversation between the two former lovers, and it only confirmed that what her son had said was true. Micah would never get over Chloe Wren. She just prayed his hopes weren’t unfounded.

She longed to hear her son’s laughter more often.

#my writing #what hindered love #extra stories from that universe #my book #self promo

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shawnpetermuffins · 5 years

Text

Pictured with you (prologue)

A/n: this is part one of a 10-15 part series and I hope you all enjoy it!

Summary: the start of a new tour calls for new team Shawn members. Y/n is the perfect addition.

***

"Josiah!" I exclaimed, seeing my long time tour photographer on the computer screen.

"Hey, Shawn!"

"So, what's going on, buddy? Everything okay down there?" Andrew asked, seeing as we are in his office and he is holding this "meeting."

"No, yeah. Everything is great! Amazing, actually. But I have some bad news."

"What's wrong?" I asked, leaning closer to the screen causing Andrew to push me back a little in an attempt to save my eyes.

"Well, as you know, my wife is pregnant."

"Of course, is everything okay with the baby?"

"Everything's fine. But we're six months in, and I can't miss this. We'd be on the road when she goes into labor. So, I've thought long and hard about this. And you guys know that going on tour with you guys is my favorite thing in the world. But I have to be here for her and for our baby." He took in a deep breath, "So I am so sorry to say, that I can't join y'all this tour season."

"Hey, no, don't worry about it. Your family comes first." Andrew said, and I nodded.

"And I know it's kind of last minute, I mean tour is a month and a half away, but I know you'll find someone who can take the pictures. And I'm willing to help you find someone if you want."

"You take care of you and your family. Don't worry about timing. We will figure something out. I promise." Andrew was already typing away at his phone, no doubt trying to find a replacement.

"Thanks for telling us, bud. Let us know if you need anything, eh?"

"Of course! And let me know who you find."

"Tour won't be the same without you, man."

"I know. I'm really sad I'm gonna miss it. But I think it's for the best."

"Totally. Well, stay safe and call us if you need anything. I mean that," Andrew pointed sternly to the screen.

"Yes sir," Josiah gave a two finger salute. "I'll talk to y'all later. Thank you."

It wasn't until Andrew shut the computer that he lost his cool demeanor. "Shit, what are we gonna do? We don't have time to find a new photographer."

I shrugged, "Come on, Andrew. We knew he wouldn't be able to stay once the baby came. What were we gonna do then? Be without?"

"Well no, but I thought we still had a couple months. Not three weeks."

I bit the inside of my cheek, "I might have an idea."

"You think Sam would do it? You and him still talk?" He asked, ignoring my proclamation.

"We do. But I think he enjoys taking pictures of half naked girls a lot more than he enjoys taking pictures of me."

He ran his hand over his face. "Then who do we get?"

"Andrew, I have an idea." I said again. This time he heard me.

"Really? Who?"

"Y/n."

"Your friend?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "She's a photographer. And she and Connor work together a lot. She's really talented. I think she'd be a perfect fit with the crew. And I mean, she's already close with me, Brian, and Connor. So it's not like she'll be out of place."

"And you're sure she takes good photos? I can't just hire her because she's your friend, and you know that."

"Yes. She's insanely talented!" I'm scrolling through my phone, searching for her Instagram. "Look," I showed him the screen and he nodded, scrolling through every picture. He hummed after a while and handed me back my phone. "You think she'll do it?"

"Only one way to find out."

I found her number in my recently contacted and put her on speaker.

"Hey babe, what's up?"

I felt the blood rush to my ears. "Hey, I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition? Okay… Connor stop I'm in the phone with Shawn." She said, but her voice was muffled, like she'd covered the speaker. "Sorry, he's being an idiot. What's up?"

I nod to Andrew who starts his very impromptu, but highly professional speech. "Y/n, hi. This is Andrew, Shawn's manager."

"Hi, Andrew."

"So, um, as Shawn was saying. We have a proposition. Our tour photographer is having a baby in the coming months, and he just informed us that he won't be able to come with us on this tour. We were brainstorming ideas and Shawn brought your name up."

"Oh, wow."

"He showed me some of your work and you're really, very good. So with that being said, would you consider being our new photographer?"

"Oh. Jesus, I'm flattered. I-"

"Say yes!" I heard Connor whisper on the other side and smiled a little in hope that it's enough to convince her.

She laughed lightly. "Sorry. Um, yes! Yes, I would love to be your new tour photographer."

"You would?" Andrew sounds relieved. "That's wonderful! Um, can you come down to the office later today so we can get papers signed and we can discuss more. Maybe even bring a portfolio just so we have it on record. Does three work for you?" He's looking through.

"Absolutely, yes! I will see you at three. Thank you so much for this opportunity."

"Thank you for agreeing. We'll see you in a few hours."

I took her off speaker and put the phone to my ear. "Hey, you still there?" I asked, standing from my seat and walking out of Andrew's office.

"I'm here... Shawn, is this real? Like you actually want me?"

"Of course I do." I said, smiling like an idiot, and I thanked god she couldn't see me.

"Okay… I'll see you at three then?"

"Yeah. See you then. Bye, honey."

And she hung up. I walked back into the office, running a hand through my unruly curls, a smile permanently plastered on my face.

"Shawn, we have to talk." Andrew said, causing me to look up and my smile to fade.

"Nothing's going to happen," I assured him because based on the look on his face, I knew just what he wanted to talk about.

He hummed, "Okay. Well make sure it stays that way. We can't lose another photographer."

"We won't." I said sternly and started to turn away. "I'll be back at three."

***

Tags: @curlyshawny @shawns-badreputation @bbellbagel @anamariel2301 @tomshufflepuff @ivegotparticulartaste @turtoix

And part 1 is up! I hope you enjoy it!

Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

#pictured with you #shawn mendes #shawn peter raul #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #smfsource

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harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

The Emancipation of Ginny ~ 5

summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.

warnings: Language, opulence, the island of Ibiza which tbh should come with a warning label

WC: 5.5k

Andrew sighs, loud and dramatic through his nose so he looks like an adorable little aggravated dragon. Ginny pats his shoulder with a sympathetic smile.

“It’s gonna be fine, love. I promise no one…” She pauses, considering what exactly she’s willing to promise to her boss, “...Will get arrested.”

Andrew grunts and it’s almost pained-sounding. Their gazes are drawn by a loud whooping and laughing from the group of men behind them. Ginny peeks over Andrew’s shoulder at the already rowdy squadron of bachelor party-bound men with a whisper of a conspiratorial grin. It rights into a confident, optimistic, responsible smile when Andrew looks back at her.

“It’s fine. It’s fine, I trust you, it’s two days, it’ll be fine.”

Ginny’s brows lift. “Are you trying to convince yourself or me?”

Andrew huffs again and Ginny can see him start to scroll through the list of reasons building in his head that maybe he really should skip those meetings in LA and just go with them and --

“Andrew, it’s two days,” Ginny assures him. Andrew seems to settle again. He and Ginny exchange a hug and with a few calls of ‘good luck’ and ‘no felonies’ to the guys, he’s out the automatic doors of the private terminal at Toronto Pearson.

Shawn is the first to notice Ginny’s unoccupied. He turns from the group and smirks at her. She wiggles her eyebrows and glides over to him.

“You ready, mate?” she teases, looping her arms behind her back.

Shawn laughs. “Definitely not.”

Ginny giggles along. “Smart boy. I didn’t plan this stag do with the intention of us making it out alive.”

Shawn makes only half an attempt to disguise the awe on his face as she skips away to wrangle everyone.

Shawn’s wedding gift to Josiah is the bachelor party of the century, and Ginny’s gift is to plan it. He told her to use his black card and when she asked about a budget he just shrugged weakly.

“Go nuts, Gin.”

That was his first mistake.

The second, he’s thinking, while he watches her strong-arm the already tipsy band of six twenty-something guys to their chartered jet, is not backing out when Josiah insisted Ginny come along.

She tried to demure her way out of it, insisting it was her gift to him, that she was perfectly fine planning it and not coming along, but Josiah dug his heels in.

“Honestly, Gin, if you don’t come, Shawn’s going to be the default responsible one.”

At that, Ginny blinked in horror and agreed.

It’s not that Shawn doesn’t want to hang out with Ginny, obviously. He’s just… it’s a weekend in Ibiza on private jets in fancy villas drinking and dancing and wearing very few clothes. It just might be tricky.

Tricky. An understatement, he thinks with a wince.

He finds himself chanting in his head the same words Andrew was muttering to himself only moments before. They’re drowned out by the music already playing on Geoff’s Bluetooth speaker as he steps onto the plane, the last of the group.

They’re spread out among the seats as the stewardess, thankfully already chuckling at them instead of looking annoyed and full of dread, takes drink orders. Shawn smiles at her when she walks past and murmurs for a beer with a quiet “thank you” that has her blushing and heading for the galley with her head ducked.

He turns back to see Ginny holding court. She’s gripping two seats, standing in the center of the aisle, laughing at something Josiah said and grinning wickedly. When she whistles through her fingers, she gets the attention she wants easily. The bleary eyes of the boys settle on her and their mouths seal shut. She relishes their reverent silence before she speaks.

“Gentlemen,” she begins in her silky West London brogue, “We’ve gathered this weekend for a very special occasion. Our good friend Josiah,” She pauses to allow for raucous applause and shrieking, “Has met the love of his sweet little life, Sami.”

“SAMIIIIIII!!!!!” Chris, one of Josiah’s hometown buddies, cries from the far end of the plane, beer in hand. The boys laugh and lift their various beverages in a toast to the bride-to-be.

“And to celebrate this glorious union,” Ginny continues, hamming it up for her audience, “We retreat to the one place on earth more suited to a stag do than Sin City -- the island of Ibiza.”

They’re eating up her theatrics, Shawn included. He howls along with the rest of them, drumming the flat of his hand on the leather seat in front of him. He feels a surge of adrenaline. They were already excited, but Ginny’s ringleader speech has got them fucking wired.

“So, boys,” She lifts her bottle with a quirk of an eyebrow, “Here’s to Josiah, may we keep him alive to see his wedding day.”

The group laughs and gathers to knock their bottles in cheers. Josiah, being Josiah, manages to clink his bottle in one hand while taking a picture with the other. He stows his phone and commands the group’s attention before they stray.

“And to Ginny for planning it!” he barks, swinging an arm around her neck to drag her onto the couch next to him, planting a kiss on her temple. The boys cheer again, seeming to never tire of a reason to scream about something.

Ginny stays where she is and Shawn feels her distance. He inches closer, shifting from seat to seat in what he hopes is a somewhat subtle way until he’s buckling into the seat beside hers with a sheepish grin.

“Hey, you,” she greets, pleased to see him. Shawn beams back. Sometimes Ginny’s attention feels like the sun -- warm, life-giving, essential. When he doesn’t have it, he craves it like a junkie.

He sits back in his seat and watches the runway past her curls as they begin to taxi.

“Thanks again for doing this,” he murmurs earnestly. It feels especially intimate over the bounce of “Careless” by Dusky on the speakers. Ginny turns her head from the window. She flashes that dangerous smile again that makes him shift in his seat.

“Don’t say that until see your next credit card statement.” She clinks the neck of her bottle against his. Shawn rolls his eyes and forces himself to look away from her.

If the flight is any indication as to the way the rest of this weekend is going, Ginny will have her hands full.

Getting them drunk on the plane was a strategy. The flight was long enough for them to get drunk and sober up again, long enough for her to observe their drunken behavior in a closed, controlled environment. She had to study up.

Chris is a sleepy drunk, he should be easy enough. Jack is a happy, loud, laughing drunk. Gabe is somehow both sleepy and loud all at once.

Geoff, Shawn and Josiah are no mystery, though. Geoff is rowdy, the troublemaker. Josiah is affectionate and happy and… sloppy. Shawn?

Shawn’s a tricky drunk.

It makes sense. He’s such a good boy most of the time. He gets told to be places all day every day. He’s nice to everyone all the time. He’s under insane pressure and refuses to crack. So when he’s got some whiskey in his system, he’s like an easily distracted giant Pomeranian puppy with too much energy. He bounces around, dances, laughs, bolts away from the group on his long, powerful legs just to be obnoxious. He’s a pain in the ass right until he crashes and then? Then he’s impossible.

At least on the plane when he crashes, they don’t have anywhere to be. Ginny remembers once before they got together that he once crashed in the cab heading back to a hotel in Madrid and Ginny had to physically drag him, mumbling and mostly asleep, out of the car. He’s a heavy nightmare when he crashes.

Ginny is a mom drunk. She can seem like she’s trashed, having as much fun as everyone else, getting just as rowdy and wild, but the moment someone responsible is needed, she snaps into sobriety so fast it’s like she never had a drink at all. It’s handy with people like Hannah and Shawn, both of whom will whine at her to “drink more! Catch up!” if they feel insecure about being drunker than she is. Plus, both Hannah and Shawn get tricky at the most inconvenient times.

Just before the crash, Ginny feels it in the air and passes out water bottles and aspirin. No hangovers on day one, she won’t allow it. She plants herself in her seat next to Shawn looking very self-satisfied as she turns down the music. She props her feet up on the edge of Josiah’s seat while he naps, head tilted, long, silky hair billowing with each of his heavy, gin-soaked breaths.

Shawn looks up from her warm brown legs and smiles drowsily. She mimes sipping water and he obeys, his tricky Gremlin side stowed for the time being.

“Were you the mom friend for Hannah’s bachelorette party?” he slurs.

Ginny tilts her head at his voice and laughs. “I was.”

Shawn grumbles under his breath and starts peeling at the wrapper on his bottle. Ginny lifts her eyebrows and hums. He sighs.

“You should let loose more, Gin. Let someone else be repson-- I mean… respond… responsible.”

He’s so cute. Ginny wants to lean over and squeeze his ruddy cheeks. She giggles, flexes and points her feet in flower printed Keds. Her legs are so long. Have they always been that long? He drunkenly wonders.

“Oh yeah? And who would you nominate in my place, then? Geoff?”

Shawn snorts and knocks his knees together, swinging them back and forth so they bump into hers.

“No. Geoff would kill us all.”

They share a glance at Geoff whose face is smashed into a pillow propped up against a window. His arms are crossed. They snicker in unison until Shawn looks back at Ginny. He tilts his head back and sighs dramatically.

“I could be resp--”

“You can’t even pronounce responsible, love.”

Shawn’s smile is slow-spreading and so sexy Ginny’s thighs press together. God, her legs are looooooooon--

Wait.

“You haven’t called me ‘love’ since before we broke up.”

Ginny’s head jerks at the rapid change of subject. She blinks quickly. “What?”

“You used to call me ‘love,’” he explains with another sigh, like slowing down to catch her up is totally cramping his style, “All the time. Even before we were together. And when we broke up you stopped.”

Ginny’s lips come together as if sucked in by the corners. Shawn studies them, imagining if he pressed a napkin against them he’d come away with a perfect lip print. He remembers her lipstick is long wearing and huffs.

“I won’t call you that then,” she replies breezily, reaching for her water bottle.

“‘S fine,” Shawn says with a shrug, knocking his knees back and forth again, slumping down further in his seat, “I don’t mind.”

Ginny’s face softens. She takes a slug from her water bottle and picks at her own label. They’re quiet for a few seconds. Ginny looks over, inhales to speak, but the words stop in her throat when she sees him asleep, pouty lips parted, head hanging heavy against his shoulder. She blinks slowly and sinks her teeth into her lower lip. She presses her finger into the recline button on his armrest that sends him slowly, gently into a more comfortable position. He settles in, smacks his lips and wriggles until he’s comfortable. Ginny sips more water to feel like her heart isn’t exploding out of her chest.

She’s mostly successful in keeping the hangovers at bay by the time they land. Due to her excellent planning, the massive dark-windowed SUV is waiting for them on the tarmac. The boys’ praise is slightly less enthusiastic than pre-flight, chalked up to the fact that they’re still recovering from their mile high party.

It’s another story when they pull up to the villa.

Climbing past expansive Spanish style chateaus and gaudy marvels of architecture, they arrive outside a two-level modern mansion planted on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean. It’s gleaming white against the battling blues of sky and sea, dotted with massive windows, floor-to-ceiling on the side of the house that faces the infinity pool, which seems to spill straight into the water below.

The praise is ebullient as they roam the house -- “look at this fucking fridge though!” “Is that an infinity pool?!” “Fuck, we’re never fucking leaving!”

Shawn watches with pride that he supposes isn’t really his to feel when Josiah sweeps Ginny into a swinging hug on the deck overlooking the pool. When they separate, Ginny looks to Shawn automatically and his heart gives a squeeze, like she’s waiting for his approval.

He grins and holds out an arm. She hurries up the stairs to tuck herself under it, wrapping her arm around his waist as they look out at the idiots gleefully throwing themselves fully clothed into the 82-degree pool.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that right?” Shawn offers, quietly enough that it’s just hers. She chews on her lips and cocks her head like a bashful puppy.

“He deserves a kickass stag,” she replies, like anyone would’ve and could’ve done this. Shawn squeezes the arm around her shoulders.

“And you deserve a goddamn crown for this.”

He swipes his thumb affectionately over the skin of her bare shoulder just once before letting her go, running to launch himself, $250 jeans, Chelsea boots and all, into the deep end, jackknife style.

Ginny squeals, laughing heartily with the rest of the guys as he pops back up, shaking his head like a wet labradoodle. This time it’s his turn to look back to her for approval. She lifts her arms over her head to clap. He preens, splashing around, insisting she jump after him.

It doesn’t take much coaxing for Ginny to kick off her Keds and send herself after the screaming boys by way of the best cannonball any of them has ever seen. She emerges into a wall of rowdy boy voices over the pounding of “One Kiss.” She floats on her back, closing her eyes at the almost throbbing cornflower shade of the sky, not feeling Shawn’s eyes from a few feet away.

The night, as is everything else, is pre-planned perfectly. After a few hours of romping in the pool, hitting a joint rather inexpertly rolled by Chris, they retreat to their rooms to nap. Ginny wakes up around 8pm to Shawn plucking at his guitar quietly, wandering around the house like a traveling minstrel.

Dinner is a truly terrifying amount of pizza ordered to the house eaten in the outdoor lounge with the day’s football highlights (in Spanish, of course) on the TV. Ginny mutters bitterly, as is customary, about Arsenal’s “chronic full back problem” through tiny bites of pizza and huge slugs of Stella.

By around 11, pizza and beer are put aside for harder stuff. Some switch to liquor, some carry on with weed, everyone gets ready for their first night out.

Shawn, in signature black skinnies, Chelsea boots and a silky black button up, finished his hair routine earlier than expected and wanders the west end of the house aimlessly, pretending to study the odd modern art and furniture. He’s fiddling with his necklace and second guessing his bracelet choice when he hears her voice.

Shawn follows the lilting sound of it singing The Temptations down a hallway he doesn’t even think he’s found yet because god, this place is huge, like he’s Prince Philip searching for Aurora in the forest. He finds her door and knocks twice with a light rap of his knuckles.

“Come in!”

Shawn lets himself in and gravitates to her, glowing in the slightly orange light of her bathroom. With a tube of MAC lipstick and her vape pen in one hand, Ginny is hovering about two inches from the mirror, her finger poking at her eye.

“Hiya,” she hums, wincing when she makes a jab that misses its target. He wrinkles his nose and steps closer.

“What are you doing?”

Ginny recedes from the mirror and blinks, moving her finger. There’s an uneven patch of gold leaf clinging partly to the inner corner, partly to her finger. Shawn chuckles. She pouts.

“Looked easy on YouTube…” she defends weakly, leaning back in to the mirror, closing one heavily mascara-ed eye to focus on fixing the other. Shawn watches her prod a few more times before he steps in with a clearing of his throat.

“Kay, let me try?”

He’s tugging on her arm and leaning in before she can answer. She flutters both eyes shut and feels the gentle pressure of his fingertip in the corner of her eye, adjusting gently until he’s satisfied.

“There.”

Ginny looks up. His smile is placid, his cheeks are pink. She blinks quickly and checks the mirror. He matched the other eye perfectly. She grins.

“For that you’ve earned a hit of this.” She offers the vape pen with a wink. Shawn accepts it, inhaling deeply, holding the vapor in for a few seconds and releasing it slowly behind her as she swipes on her lipstick.

He likes watching her get ready, always has. He used to be a bigger pain in the ass, standing behind her, sucking on her earlobe while she was trying to apply eyeliner or something. These days he stands back and watches her work.

While she’s distracted by carefully outlining the plump curves of her lips, he can check her out subtly. She’s in a deep maroon crop top and clingy skirt set that makes her deep caramel skin seem to shimmer. She smells like her coconut body oil, the only kind of fragrance she ever wears. Her curls are springy and bright. She’s unabashedly tall in strappy platforms that have her at his height even without her hair.

She’s fucking radiant. He won’t say a word about it.

She pulls back from the mirror for a look. She’s abandoned her signature red matte lipstain tonight for a dark burgundy shade that matches her outfit and sports a glossier finish. It makes him lick his lips and try not to wish he was licking hers. He tells himself it’s the weed talking. He takes another hit from her pen.

“Gonna share, Mendes?” she prompts.

You? Never.

Yep, the weed is going to his head. He hands off the pen willingly and watches her lipstick leave a splotch of her behind before she tucks it into her little clutch and leads him outside.

He’s got to shake this. He’s been so good about not indulging in his feelings, all of them, any of them, that pertained to her. Up until this weekend. They’ve had six months of good, solid recovery time since the break up. With the way his mind is babbling at him right now, it’s like it wants him to fuck all that up. He can’t let that happen.

At least not until he knows he’s ready for her.

He accepts the swig of scotch from the flask Geoff offers him as they’re piling into the car to take them to their first stop, Pacha.

A flash of Shawn’s smile is all it takes to get them ushered quickly to their reserved table in the VIP section behind the DJ booth. Once again, the boys look impressed, so Ginny sits smugly with her legs crossed, gazing around the club. It’s high season in Ibiza -- Pacha will be filled to capacity all night with a line snaking around the block until they close at 6am. They won’t stay that long, they have another table waiting for them at Amnesia, a 15 minute drive inland.

This is not Ginny’s first tangle with the White Isle. She’s been flying out for weekends here and there since she was 17. Ibiza has long been a favorite of Ginny’s and Hannah’s, but Ginny has never experienced it like this. Like everything else that comes with Shawn, it’s a step above. The table is already littered with booze. A very attentive and attractive waitress makes herself available immediately. She watches Shawn grin up at her politely and order a whiskey ginger, and then looks to the waitress to watch her shoulders drop, her smile spread and her giggle rise up in her throat. Ginny tries not to roll her eyes.

“Take it easy, Mendes, the megawatt smile is a lot for the uninitiated to take.”

Shawn’s at the part of the night where he smirks at her instead of blushing and insisting he’s just being polite, that he doesn’t know what she could possibly mean by that. He sits back in his chair and bites at the inside of his lip.

“Uninitiated? What does the initiation involve?”

Ginny plays along, leaning across to him as she thinks. He watches her eyes turn up to the light rigging in the ceiling and lets himself indulge in admiring her.

“Well first comes the superstar smile. Once you can handle that without your knees turning jello-y, you come up against the gentle Canadian boy modesty and the ‘eh’s and ‘a-boats’ that come with it,” She pauses to watch Shawn tip his head back and laugh hard, “And the trifecta. That laugh that makes me want to put on a performance and make you laugh all day long. I’d raise hell for that laugh.”

The silence that follows is as charged as the room around them that they ignore. They stare at each other in a way they haven’t in months. Neither looks away while they try to understand the moment, and even more so, try to make it last because neither of them knows when they’ll get the chance to look at each other this way without the possibility of getting caught by the people that constantly surround them.

Ginny breaks first, being the more sober of the two. She clears her throat and tucks a hand through her hair, scrunching some curls back into place. Shawn keeps watching.

The chance of being caught by friends or fans is very low. First of all, their friends have scattered to explore the pulsing club, scouting for girls or for other celebrities. Secondly, Shawn is not nearly the most interesting famous person in the room tonight. On their way into the VIP section, Ginny spotted at least half the cast of The Only Way is Essex plus Martin Garrix plus Paris Hilton and their corresponding crews, all of whom attract more attention than the sweet Canadian kid who doesn’t get tricky until at least three drinks in.

Ginny stops Shawn just short of “tricky” and gathers the boys into the car again to skip off to Amnesia. They stick together this time, tucked away in another VIP booth that feels more private than the first. Ginny is bouncing Euro coins off the table and landing them in her friends’ drinks with a wild gleam in her eye. When she catches him watching her, she slips him a coin of his own with a wink.

The coin corresponds with drink number four. Shawn gets creative, positioning a coin on one end of a spoon and smacking the other to aim it at his friends’ foreheads. When he gets Chris in the eye, Ginny takes the coin back, plucks it out of Shawn’s scrabbling fingers as he apologizes profusely.

David Guetta goes on at 3am for a special set and gets the rest of the guys off their asses to dance. Shawn, even at his trickiest, doesn’t get on the dance floor. Ginny usually can be persuaded, but tonight, she hangs back with him, her chin propped on the table as she flips the coin against the surface by pressing onto the edge with her thumbnail.

She’s mouthing the words to “Titanium” but her chin is flat to the table so her head bobs oddly as she opens and closes her mouth. In his drunken state, Shawn is mesmerized. The motion of it, rather inconveniently, reminds Shawn of other times when he watched her head bob rhythmically like that.

“Hey, do you remember the last time we had sex?”

Ginny looks up, looking less startled than he imagines they would if they were both sober. She pulls her brows together and looks thoughtful.

“I think so. The first night in Tokyo.”

Of course she remembers. She’s Ginny. She remembers everything.

Shawn turns his head down guiltily to his lap. “I don’t really remember.”

Ginny smiles at her secret. She presses the pad of her thumb into the coin and decides to ignore potential consequences of getting into this with him.

“We were unpacking in Tokyo. You couldn’t keep your hands off me,” she relays with a smirk. He doesn’t argue. That sounds like him.

“You were mumbling something into my neck about the schedule for the next few days but you pushed your hand into my leggings at the same time. I kissed you and told you we can either talk schedule or fuck, but we couldn’t do both at once.”

Shawn grins at the memory she’s dug out of his subconscious. “I picked fuck.”

“You certainly did.”

Ginny doesn’t choose to elaborate further about the way he grunted with each heavy stroke into her body, that he felt like he was chasing something down inside her and she was willing and eager to let him try. Ginny lowers her gaze, thinking now that whatever it was, he didn’t find it.

“Sometimes with stuff like that you wish you knew it was the last time,” Shawn muses.

Ginny swallows awkwardly against the table and lifts her head. She props up her elbows and knows her brain will shift to overanalysis when she’s sober about the fact that he basically just admitted that he wasn’t planning for very long to end things with her. There’s a lot to unpack there.

“You remember the last time we kissed?” he prods. She looks up again. She shakes her head.

“Me neither,” Shawn breathes, “You deserved more from me.”

Her eyes flutter shut. She doesn’t know why he’s talking like this and she doesn’t know why she’s not stopping him.

Her eyes startle open again when she feels his fingers link with hers across the table. She looks down at them because it’s safer than looking at him.

“Let me give you something good, Gin.”

She’s nodding before he even says her name. When she looks up, he’s leaning halfway over their table, scooping his hand under her chin to press his lips to hers. Despite his intoxication, he’s smooth and slow and molten hot, murmuring gently into her mouth before he sucks on her lower lip and releases her.

“Oh god, yes,” Ginny moans, reaching up to yank him back in by his collar for more.

Shawn’s lips are wet and swollen; he’s been chewing on them all night. They’re both drunkenly panting into the kiss, it’s not a particularly sexy kiss to witness, but to them, it’s everything they’ve been craving since they let each other go last year.

Shawn grunts when he tries to get closer and feels the edge of the table jut into his ribs. He pries himself away long enough to scurry around it and climb into the booth next to her, throwing an arm around her shoulder and sucking her back in.

If they don’t think about it, it’s not bad. This does not have to be a disaster. This can be just a bachelor weekend thing, the equivalent of them hooking up with strangers, only it’s safer because Shawn runs a risk any time he takes home someone who could open her mouth and blab about it on the internet. This way, with Ginny, he’s safe.

Plus, they’re just making out. No way this leads to fucking. I mean, it could. And maybe that wouldn’t be so bad either. Not unrecoverable, at least. It’s just fucking. It’s a biological imperative. And after all, who are Ginny and Shawn to turn their noses up at biology?

Shawn sucks at her tongue and makes her moan into his mouth like a porn star. She actually feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up from where she’s raking her fingers through his curls.

“Goddamn, we leave you alone for ten minutes and you’re trying to swallow each other in public,” Geoff groans from over Shawn’s shoulder. Shawn’s closed eyes squeeze and he pulls away to Ginny’s cheek. When he collects himself, he turns his head to glare at Geoff.

“What do you want?”

Geoff looks delighted to have interrupted. He nods back to Gabe and Jack who have one of Josiah’s arms over each shoulder.

“Time to go. Groom to be’s had it.”

Shawn looks back to Ginny who, in true Ginny form, already has her phone out texting the car service to meet them in the VIP pickup area.

They stay close, though. Ginny hands him a napkin to swipe at the purple lipstick all over the lower half of his face, but she doesn’t drift. While they wait for the car, she even lets him kiss her again, and it’s less frantic and hungry than in the club. It feels more like it did when they didn’t know which kiss would be their last. Shawn likes it better this way.

They continue kissing in the car, ignoring the barfing noises the other guys mime to drown out the wet sucking noises of their lips. They kiss at the front entrance while Ginny hands Jack the keys to the villa. They kiss while they walk down the hall all the way up to where Ginny presses Shawn into his door and nips at his lower lip to feel him growl one more time.

She slides her long fingered hands up his chest and pushes away. Her bleary eyes meet his. He looks half fucked, lips almost comically swollen and again smeared heavily with her lipstick that he’s licking at like it’s melting ice cream, eyes glassy, hair a wreck. He looks like a caricature of someone who’s been necking for 45 minutes.

Ginny takes a deep breath and nods once, all business. “Goodnight, Shawn.”

She twists his door handle and lets him stumble backwards inside enough for her to close it behind him and disappear, clomping away in her loud shoes to her own room.

Ginny wakes with a start at the sound of a splash from the pool. Her shoulders clench, her back tenses, her fingers tighten around their grip on the pillow she’s smashed her face into. Her heart sprints for a minute until she recognizes she is, in fact, alone.

She pushes up on her hands, sniffs and sighs. She’s stark naked, having shed her clothes in a haphazard line from door to bed. When she opens her eyes, she winces at the sight of her pillow, which looks like her face melted into it -- patches of foundation, mascara and lipstick dotted with two bits of gold leaf right where her eyes would’ve been.

Thank god she went to bed alone. It is her only mercy from the night before.

She stumbles into the shower and scrubs at what remains of her face. Tequila leaks out of her pores. She throws on a red cotton romper that skims the swell of her ass and goes outside to find the boys and hydrate.

Half are lazing in the pool playing more EDM that for some reason sounds a lot less appealing than it did yesterday, half are sitting under the cover of the outdoor lounge. Someone made bloody marys. Someone ordered breakfast burritos. Ginny grabs a water bottle and makes a beeline for Shawn, splayed on a couch in a t-shirt and boxers with his guitar in his lap.

“We are morons,” she announces on her approach, flopping down across from him, propping her feet up and taking a sip.

“Fucking idiots,” he agrees without looking up at her, bobbing his head as he riddles out a melody.

“We’re ok, though, right? No feelings hurt?” she checks, ignoring the wailing voice in her head that reminds her of her own stupid feelings.

Shawn does look up now, an easy smile on his lips, smooth from practice, a smile that doesn’t hint at all at the crying of the voice in his own head. “All good. No worries, Gin.”

The day is lazy. There’s napping, smoking, football and more bad takeout. Night two is at Ushuaia and it goes unspoken that Ginny and Shawn are to stay sober and, more importantly, away from each other.

They’re successful. Ginny shimmies in body glitter and a rusty orange bikini. Shawn is in a tank top and skinny jeans again and the body glitter he borrows is his idea, not hers, and he doesn’t ask her to help him put it on. They stay ten feet from each other all night, spinning like tops, trying not to be the one who falls down first.

Please help cure my Ibiza hangover and buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @stillinskislydia @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisathot @sinplisticshawn @mutuallynotmutual @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fluff #drunk!shawn

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galadrieljones · 4 years

Text

The Lily Farm - Chapter 41

AO3 | Masterpost

Rating: M (Mature) - sexual content, violence, and adult themes

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey to the north, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. They’ve been friends for a while now, but life, like the wilderness, is full of uncertainty and complications, and as they embark on their desperate search for meaning together, they endure many trials, some small, some big—all of which bring them closer to one another, and to their future.

Chapter 41: Animal Kingdom

“Have I told you yet tonight, Mrs. Morgan,” said LaBoeuf. He had removed his hat. He was chewing that cocaine gum. “You look like one million dollars.”

They were standing at the entrance to some sort of grand and ostentatious ballroom on the riverboat—Arthur, Mary Beth, Call, and LaBoeuf. The room was set with a bar at the top and about a dozen poker tables, yet unfilled. The adornments were gold, and the room was teeming with overdressed dandies and their women, posing and looking like birds. Waiters moved about obsequiously, bowing in adulation, their trays overflowing with champagne flutes.

“Why, thank you, Mr. LaBoeuf,” said Mary Beth in her fake accent. Her dress was sleek, indigo lace. Her hair was in many curls all piled atop her head. She curtsied, her arm linked in Arthur’s. “You are quite the gentlemanly Texan.”

“It’s Mrs. Kilgore,” said Arthur. He wore a slick three-piece suit and had a toothpick in his mouth. A waiter came by and offered him a cigar. “Try to get that right from now on. We don’t need to blow our cover quite yet. We only been here ten minutes.” He ran the cigar past his nose. It was obviously expensive, and Cuban. He thanked the waiter and tucked it into his pocket.

“Apologies, Mr. Kilgore.”

“It’s okay.”

Josiah had already melted into the crowd. It was not entirely clear what his role was here. Dapper liaison? Friend with friends in high places? Rogue magician?

“Mr. Kilgore,” said Call, standing stiffly with his hands clasped behind his back. He wore a huge cowboy hat and a belt buckle shiny as can be. “It looks as if the crowd is beginning to disperse.”

“Indeed it does,” said Arthur.

Mary Beth turned to him. She took his hands and looked up into his eyes. “You can do it, baby. I believe in you.”

He smiled down at her. “You listen to these men now,” he said. “You do what they say. You know I mean that in the most progressive of fashions, but they have your best interest at heart, and they are professionals.”

“Okay,” she said.

A valet came along then, a real young guy in gloves and tails. He said to Arthur in a very thick French accent, “Mr. Kilgore? May I escort you to your seat?”

Arthur puffed up then, spat the toothpick, took out the cigar, and placed it between his teeth. “Ab-so-lutely,” he said, clapping the boy to the back so hard he lurched. He turned to Mary Beth, kissed her on the hair. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said.

He then addressed Call and LaBoeuf, and they nodded to him reassuringly. He was off.

Almost immediately, LaBoeuf leaned close to Mary Beth and said, “Mrs. Morgan, we have spotted Angelo Bronte.”

“And?” she said, whipping her fan about.

“He is coming this way, though he is mightily distracted by this and that. He is holding a bottle of what appears to be Limoncello, a common I-talian liqeur. His entourage looks inebriated.”

“Not much surprise there,” she said. She took a deep breath. She glanced at Call. He was the stern and serious one. His brow was set so heavy as he scanned the room, it was like a fallen redwood. She reminded him of her daddy, or at least what she had known of him. His eyes finally settled upon one fixed location. When she followed his gaze, she saw Arthur, accepting his hand of five-card draw and smoking his cigar in handsome concentration. The ballroom was then cordoned off with velvet ropes and armed guards.

It did not take long then for several women of about Mary Beth’s age and stature to seize upon her. They were staples of this heathen society, and she was not. They wanted to know all about her and her beefcake husband. One of them was the daughter of a newspaper man from Philadelphia. She said her name was Heather Moriarty, something like that, and she was stoned off her rocker, swaying to and fro.

“Is that one yours?” she said, pointing across the room to Arthur. “That prime slab of beef at table five?”

“Indeed he is.”

“Well I would sell myself to the devil to let him ruffle my skirts for just one night.” She laughed wildly, and her friends along with her. Their mouths were painted a hideous pink. “Bet he likes it rough.”

“He likes it all sorts of ways,” said Mary Beth, smiling to a different tune. “Though I am not one to kiss and tell.”

“I suppose then he is as good as he looks.”

“He’s better,” said Mary Beth. “Though you’re rather narrow in the hips. Ain’t got the chops to take it, I suspect.”

Heather the newspaper debutante stood with her jaw dropped wide open as a tin can. “Excuse me?”

That is when Josiah came along, out of nowhere, as was his tendency.

“You might want to close that thing, dear girl,” he said to Heather Moriarty. “You’re going to catch flies.”

“Who are you?” said Heather.

He smiled and turned to Mary Beth, fashioned a red rose corsage from behind her ear. “For you,” he said.

The women scurried off like mice. “Ugh, thank god,” said Mary Beth. She had been sucking in her gut as hard as possible. “I was not aware I’d have to entertain the likes of high society vermin.”

“Not a fan of the women here?”

“I’m sure there’s one or two I'd love to entertain,” she said. “But wasn’t her.”

“Did you happen to pickpocket her?”

"I would have,” said Mary Beth. “If I’d let her get close enough. Wasn’t worth it.”

Josiah laughed. He addressed Call and LaBoeuf who stood in their Texan stoicism. “Ah, the cavalry,” he said. “How are we tonight, gentlemen?”

LaBoeuf tipped his hat. “Just fine. Thank you, Mr. Trelawny.”

“How is Arthur doing?” he said. “Can you tell?”

“He is biding his time,” said Call. “Ingratiating himself to the table.”

“Of course he is.” Josiah grasped his lapels and rocked back on his heels dramatically. “Arthur has always excelled at playing the lovable blowhard. People are so easy to underestimate him.” He glanced to Mary Beth. “Except for you, dear girl.”

She went red in the cheeks. “I ain’t so easy.”

There was a ruckus then, an awkward scuffle between two suited geese breaking out over the chips, coming from one of the other tables. Everybody looked to see.

“Oh dear,” said Mary Beth.

“I see the insanity has already begun,” said Josiah. “Shall we walk?”

She went with him, arm in arm. Call and LaBoeuf kept a close distance. They ignored those who inquired upon them, cordially. They did not drink or smoke cigarettes, though LaBoeuf was always chewing. Mary Beth was handed a glass of champagne when they arrived at the bar. She sipped judiciously as she looked around. Bronte had gone on his way, which relieved her for now. She did not see him anywhere, not at any of the tables. She mentioned off-hand then that she was hungry. Josiah snapped his fingers once, and a waiter appeared with a silvery plate of hors d'oeuvres. Mary Beth ate four or five finger sandwiches, absorbed in the debauchery of the room. She watched Arthur win one hand of cards and collect his chips. The men at his table were congratulatory so far. It was just as Josiah had said. They thought him a dumbass. She was very proud.

While Call and LaBoeuf had a conversation about some such to do with their lives back in Texas, Mary Beth forgot momentarily that she was on a boat. She thought about Abigail, and she wondered what had happened, if she had made her move with John, if they had given into love. It was easy to get swindled by the beauty of the room here, and the drunken, oafish herds, and in this she oddly missed Shady Belle. Their room, their bed, and the window that they would lean beside, reading in the evenings. Here, it was cold. The women were foreign beasts. They draped themselves upon total strangers, lavish ornaments of wealth, and the men smoked their fat cigars and became red-nosed and aggressive with drink. She had lived with men all her life, seen the most shameful of that vice-driven void. Booze, women, and dope. This was no exception. In fact, money, she thought, in its proposal toward validation of such behavior, seemed to make it worst. The room smelled of smoke and alcohol. It admittedly made her woozy. She leaned into the bar and closed her eyes. She wished the night would end soon so that she could go home with Arthur.

“Mrs. Morgan?” said Call, steadying her. When she opened her eyes, Josiah had gone away. When she looked around, she saw him showing magic tricks to a group of college boys across the room. He had them looking one way, and then he pulled a rabbit out of his hat. “Are you feeling all right?”

She blinked many times, looked at Call and his deeply lined face. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, a little embarrassed, patting his hand on her shoulder. “Just the baby. It makes me want to vomit half the time.”

“Perhaps some fresh air,” he said.

She looked around, found Arthur one more time and noted his state of being. He was doing just fine. So she nodded in agreement, set down her champagne. “Yeah that would be nice,” she said.

They went to the deck. It was down a long, narrow, velvety hallway full of grinning sycophants and flickering candelabras. When they got out to the deck, they were not alone. There were many of the women, including a couple Mary Beth had seen before, smoking cigarettes and talking lofty shit to one another. They gave her dirty looks and she plowed into them with a smile and ironic curtsy. It was almost like they could smell it on her, that rambling, orphan existence, even if they couldn’t place it, and she could not have cared less what they thought of her, but she did fantasize about punching one or two of them in the face.

On the far end of the deck was Angelo Bronte and his cronies. They were throwing huge chunks of bread off the boat into the water, chiding the fish, and shouting obscenely in Italian. A huge herring had come along and landed on the rail. They shouted at this, too. Threw bread to distract it. It picked up into the sky and dipped with impressive speed, proceeding to dive in after the bread-addled fish. The men laughed and cheered.

Bronte was smoking a cigar when he finally abandoned the rail and saw her. He became ecstatically loud, boisterous in his excitement. He came over with his cronies, dressed in his tuxedo and some kind of jewel-encrusted slippers and a scarf in the colors of his Italian nation. He bandied about his cigar and drank wine from a huge goblet. He regarded her with courtship appeal, kissed her on both cheeks. His reeked of alcohol and tobacco. He said, “Mrs. Kilgore! I thought I saw you from across the room before, eh? Look at you. A fucking vision in the night. Where is your burly outlaw of a husband? I thought I saw him before, but now he has escaped me.”

Mary Beth had his watch up her sleeve. She was ready, and her Texas cavalry stood by in all of their cartoonish intimidation as well, prepared in their excellence to aid in her plan, of which she had informed them that very night in the coach on the way to the river. She smiled, very coy. “Well, Tacitus is inside, making his mark, I expect.”

“Very good, very good,” he said, chewing on that cigar. "Who are these cowboy men?"

“This is my security detail, ordered by daddy,” she said. “Texas Rangers Call and LaBoeuf.”

“Texas Rangers!” said Bronte. This seemed to entertain him immensely. “Good god I never seen something so American in all my life. How do you do, signors?”

Bronte regarded them. LaBoeuf raised his hat. “Very well,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Tacitus and I wanted to thank you for inviting us tonight,” said Mary Beth, leaning in to place her hand on the side of his arm. “We were indeed surprised, but pleasantly so, of course. The swamps sure do get boring after a while. I’ve been going out of my mind for a party.”

He sort of eyeballed her darkly, puffed off the cigar then tossed it absentmindedly overboard. “Well, bellissima, as thrilled as I am to see you here tonight, know that it was not me who sent for you. Though I wish it had been, of course.”

Mary Beth straightened up, feeling the watch in her sleeve, pressing up against her wrist. “It wasn't you?” she said. "Well, that's a surprise."

“No, it was uh…the mayor,” he said. It was off-hand. One of his cronies handed him another cigar, clipped off the end.

“The mayor?” said Mary Beth.

“Yes,” he said. “Mayor Lemieux, of St. Denis. Foul piece of shit.” He laughed. His cronies laughed. “Owes me big. I remember now. He thought the invitation would be more enticing, coming from me, seeing as he is a bore and a money-grubbing asshole of the highest degree, and I am, well, me. In any case, he said he had some sort of business to conduct with your husband."

"Business?"

"Yes. Something to do with that dreadful good ol’ boy with the mutton chops. What was his name?—the writer.”

“Evelyn Miller?” said Mary Beth.

He slapped his knee once, almost aggressively so. “Yes! Evelyn Miller. That is his name. The native sympathizer Evelyn Miller. Ha ha. I merely reached out to your associate—the magician? I cannot remember his name either, though he did have a big hat and a big fucking mustache.” He had the cigar in his mouth. It was unlit. The stars overhead seemed to be slipping down, a curtain on the night. LaBoeuf took the liberty and lit Bronte’s cigar with a match from the brim of his hat. “Ah, grazie, Signor Texas. You are a man of your order indeed.”

Call took a step forward then. He was standing very tall, imposing, and serious. He spoke softly, very close to her ear. “Mrs. Kilgore, I hate to interrupt, but might I suggest we make our way back inside? Mr. Kilgore may grow concerned if he finds you missing for too long.”

“Ah, yes, yes,” said Bronte. “Go and find your indelible cowboy. And the two of you find me again when this is all over. I’ll get you good and drunk, the most expensive way in town, eh?”

Mary Beth smiled. “We’ll do that,” she said, and she curtsied, emboldened by his candor. “But first—can I ask you something, Mr. Bronte?”

“Anything.”

“Why’d you tell us there was money at the trolley station?” she said, innocent. “Turns out there’s nothing.”

Bronte stared at her. She worried briefly that he may do something regrettable, but he did not. He looked lost, then pissed, but not at her. He puffed off the cigar, looked around, then he turned to one of his entourage and threw the wine from his goblet in the man's face. He then tossed the goblet, smacked the man in the back of the head as hard as he could, then again, and again, was shouting something in angry Italian, and the man shouted back, and after this went on for a while and Bronte's man had been sufficiently shamed, Bronte turned back to Mary Beth and said, apologetically, “You must excuse me, Mrs. Kilgore, for I must go. It turns out I was mistaken. The information I received from my asinine associate here must have been false.” He shouted some more. He smacked the man again, put out his cigar on the man’s lapel and turned him around, shoving him in the opposite direction. He looked back to Mary Beth. “I’ll see you soon, no?”

Mary Beth watched after him, not sure whether she should feel confused or relieved. “Stay outta trouble," she said.

“Oh, you, too, bellissima,” he called back over his shoulder. “You too!”

They could hear his bluster echoing all the way around the corner to the other side of the boat, and then it disappeared.

On their way back to the ballroom, Mary Beth was pensive. She was relieved about the watch, but something didn't make sense. She stopped Call and LaBoeuf in a lonesome corner across from a man chewing on another man’s ear in a drunken fashion. “What the hell is going on?” she said, her voice real quiet. “Everything we thought we knew, it was all bullshit. Is it coincidence?”

“Maybe,” said LaBoeuf.

“Has Arthur ever worked with the mayor before?” said Call. He seemed sufficiently concerned, and he was looking around, eagerly, like a hawk on the wire.

“No,” said Mary Beth. “But he did help Evelyn Miller, right before he helped you all with that bounty hunting business in the Roanoke Ridge."

"How did he help Mr. Miller?" said Call.

"He helped him and some Wapiti men from up the north by robbing a document from an oil field in the Heartlands.”

“Cornwall oil?” said LaBoeuf. He had spit out his cocaine gum. He had his hands on his hips, and he seemed to be thinking.

“Yes,” said Mary Beth. “Leviticus Cornwall.”

"Does Cornwall get on with the mayor? Do they share any connection at all?"

"Could be," said Mary Beth. "Come to think of it, yeah. I think we learnt he does. Why?"

“Mrs. Morgan,” said Call. “Do you have any idea what business the mayor of St. Denis might currently have with your husband?”

Mary Beth thought hard. She tried searching every last scrap of her memory, but her memory felt bonkers. “I don’t know. I mean, they met, at a party. Arthur did steal something from him. On orders from Dutch."

"He stole from him?" said LaBoeuf.

"Yeah, but when we saw Evelyn Miller on the street in St. Denis, he said it weren't no big deal."

"What did Arthur steal," said Call.

"I—”

There was a commotion then, in the ballroom. Some men were coming in the door, but she couldn’t see who they were yet. It was too far away, and there were too many people in between. Mary Beth tried looking for Arthur, but he was not in his spot at the table. Everybody was there at the table, except for him. “Where is Arthur?” she said.

“Hmm,” said Call. He placed his hand on her shoulder, stretching his gaze past hers. “We’ll find him. Don't worry.”

She had shimmied Bronte’s stolen pocket watch out of her sleeve. She squeezed it in her hand. She felt a funny realization coming on, but she couldn't place it. "Let's go," she said.

But then.

“Is those Pinkertons?” said LaBoeuf out of nowhere, tilting his head to see.

“What?” said Mary Beth.

“Just now, coming through the door. It is. What the hell are they doing here?”

Mary Beth whipped around, stood on her tip-toes. She saw two men she recognized coming through the crowd, and several she did not. The one was tall and ugly, with that unforgettable pock-marked face. They were grabbing people every which way, asking questions. She hid her face, and then she turned around.

“Mrs. Morgan?” said LaBoeuf.

"Shit," she said.

She was already halfway down the hall before anybody could stop her. She was headed back toward the deck. She did not know why. She just was. There were the candelabras everywhere, illuminating dark corners and flickering with menace. There were people she had to cut past, bump into, big, dumb, lovely, laughing people. She hiked her skirt up past her knees so that she could move faster.

She felt a hard grip on her arm. She wrenched it away.

It was only Call. He looked concerned. “Mrs. Morgan,” he said. “Where are you going? Don’t run off like that.”

“I gotta find Arthur,” she said, flustered. “Those is Pinkertons. What if they're here for him?”

A trap.

They heard gunshots then, jangling through the chandeliers. It startled Mary Beth. There were footsteps banging on the carpeted floors inside as people fled, women crying out, the same ones she had earlier smited. Looking forward, she could see the deck, see the black hole of the river. Looking back, she saw nothing. She thought to cry out but just as a nightmare, she was choked.

“There’s some sort of disturbance,” said LaBoeuf, catching up to them with his hand on his pistol. “I ain’t sure what caused it. Or who.”

“We gotta find him,” said Mary Beth.

People had begun to rush past them, pressing against the rails. The gunfire picked up behind. Call looked at LaBoeuf who looked miffed, but he nodded in a kind of procedural affirmation. Call then looked upon Mary Beth cautiously, with a great deal of intent. “Mrs. Morgan," he said. "Please do not fret. But we must get you off this boat, pronto.”

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #mary beth gaskill #arthur x mary beth #josiah trelawny #yes two updates in one day #!!!#it was all one but #it was too long so #i made it two #thank you for your patience #enjoy #and #i'm sorry!#:)

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mag7dumbies · 5 years

Text

Magnificent Seven Series (1998) Pilot major spoilers

So I finally finished watching the Pilot and good lord I had thoughts, and no this is not the first time I’ve watched this episode, I’m just that extra when I watch TV

(Here we go yet again folks strap in)

(I have mentioned I hate the confederates- garbage humans the lot)

(Also giving birth is better in a squatting position- or at least that’s what I’ve heard)

(Seminoles are actually a very interesting tribe to read about)

“I respect no man’s law but my own” well fuck you too racist bastard (not only that but you need to get a fucking haircut and someone to repair that ratty flag of yours or better yet burn it)

I hate that he is so right cause we still have nut jobs in the south who are in denial that we won the war

The movie was so much nicer goodness (I mean violence wise it wasn’t as insane as this is)

I hate that the general is not completely bad (he isn’t close to good but he still has morals, which is hard to believe considering what he believes)

(The general is nuttier than an oak tree)

OKAY HOW DARE YOU, I’M NEARLY A TRILLION PERCENT SURE THAT SAND IS SACRED AND YOU JUST FUCKING CHUCK IT WHO RAISED YOU

AND YOU PUT THAT MASK WHERE YOU FOUND IT GODDAMN IT

“I believe I can turn gold into bullets” (what does that even mean)

(Didn’t realize that this whole episode was a week’s worth of stuff huh)

(I love that they included freed slaves just makes me happy)

Lordy boardy here we go

Chris this is not the time for a drink

The duster flaps in the wind- okay we get it Chris is a badass- he was drinking glass, earlier we know

The Marshall is a coward (this reminds me of a fantastic fic I once found that had the Marshall return and Nathan was understandably pissed it was awesome)

He’s wearing an apron- oh Vin you have fallen so far, (I’m glad he has long hair though, in the movie it was pretty short which didn’t really fit cause you know Vin isn’t one for conventions or white men tradition)

Mary, Mary quite contrary-angry I mean angry good lord I love her

(I always pronounce gangrene as gaygrene and its super frustrating cause I’ll try my hardest to say it right but my mouth doesn’t work that way or at least it doesn’t sound right)

Only in the nineties could you say darkie doctors on TV and not be immediately cancelled or there to be some sorta outrage, same thing applies to lynching, you can hang white folks on TV but the minute a black person is having the noose we have problems (which is really good cause there are people still alive that have probably witnessed a lynching of someone who certainly didn’t deserve it)

That son of a bitch, pushing Mary was stupid because not only are you being racist which is a trait no one likes but also being a sexist pig- (you are in for it now)

Uh-oh Vin is pissed that isn’t good for anyone (well Nathan but that isn’t the point)

Do you think Vin gives a damn about being employed- and how did he get the apron off so fast like damn

THE FUCKING NOD

Here he comes the stupidest boy in the Wild West- (I’m gonna punch something I swear)

He’s so little

Chris nearly shot Jd’s foot off

“Where’d you come from” where did you go where’d you come from, tall dark stranger and his weird friend

(The saloon bit tickles me to death)

(For some reason it reminds me of Lone Ranger and I don’t know why)

Vin is a fucking sweetheart and I love him

Poor Nathan I hope his throat is okay

Vin do you have to be negative and suicidal in the same swoop seriously

Its Buckaroo time everybody, hell yeah

Then he jumps out a fucking window like a moron, and Chris is just standing there like a he’s too cool for school

(Is it Josiah or ‘osiah, not entirely sure)

And here comes the Ez, ugh he’s about as cute as he can get

“Sorry for the mess” lordy be

(Love Ez’s one-liners)

“I abhor gambling” carefully baby don’t want Maude to hear you and fuck you too you Southern bigot (I know he gets better but still, that language isn’t okay)

What the fuck is he doing with his fancy footwork just leave the saloon for mother’s sake

It’s too early in the morning to deal with Jd just goddammit (I’m gonna make some popcorn and come back to this cause I seriously can’t)

(Okay I’ve calmed down and I am ready for the stupidity)

What did he think was going to happen, of course, you fell off your fucking horse you side saddled that bitch and startled a horse that you don’t even know you’re better than this

(The only thing he can’t do is have a brain cell)

Chris is an asshole

This damn kid

Buck what the hell are, you doing, leave the kiddo be

(I also find it difficult to trust white men)

And here comes the boy and Buck (Jd’s hair is just bad, it’s like Snape’s)

Buck is right about Jd being a prep

“We’ll carve it on his tombstone” brutal Chris just brutal

(Vin is a sweet boy have I said that already cause he is)

Ezra is so good with kids damn

(Ron Perlman’s arms hell yeah)

Ezra nearly died good lord and he just goes with it and pretends he did it on purpose

Here comes Rainey girl I love her

Nathan why you hurt me, and RAINE THIS ISNT THE TIME TO PLAY MATCHMAKER

I love Raine’s dad he’s fantastic

Buck is such a goof I love him

Why is the guy, so raspy what happened

Jd getting punched is my favorite

This is so cringe, and I really like it “I was in prison for not being white” (that is still the case for some people and we all know it)

Buck CHILL THE FUCK OUT

Vin are you serious, you don’t know Chris and there you are just hanging out and suddenly you’re like hey dude if I die, take my body to Tascosa you will get a huge payday, he didn’t have to do that at all but he’s just that dude I love him too much

(There’s also a really good fic about Josiah and his crows it's great)

Ezra, I’m done with you, good lord just go home

Here we go

Nathan is a gift to all

Buck don’t waste bullets and Josiah go to a hospital, Jd you’re an idiot and nearly died plus Ezra what are you doing go to Nathan, dumbass

Buck spewing truth everywhere

Bruised my ass Ezra just accept help like a normal human being goddamn

Nathan does not take no for an answer and ow I heard that crack in my own arm ouch

Nathan called him out

Josiah, I love you so much, (usually, I really hate missionaries cause they can be extremely intolerant to other religions especially those of Native peoples,) but Josiah tries his best to respect them which is a breath of fresh air

Josiah fainting isn’t helpful I don’t care what the crows, say (he’s a birdbrain)

Poor Jd, I just wanna give him a hug, and dude chill you are being a mess, like drink like a normal person

Buck stop telling people Chris’s past it isn’t appropriate

And I swear we own an old blanket that looks exactly like Josiah’s poncho no joke

“I’m a spiritual man, sometimes I turn to the wrong kind of spirits” I love this line

Ezra stop corrupting the youth, (Ezra is like O’Reilly and I love that characterization)

What debts they can’t be older than 10, Ezra stop, please

Nathan, I get you love, her -chill, and Jd “I haven’t shot anyone yet” are you kidding me, seriously

“Buck you’re full of crap” “You’re just figuring that out now” (Had I mentioned I love their dynamic cause I really really do)

(I did some research on Laudanum, purely for fun and apparently, it’s basically just a mixture of every opiate available and then some, plus it’s illegal to make for obvious reasons,)

That’s right Ezra you aren’t a coward or at least not completely

(Jd’s story makes me think that maybe MAYBE he was abused as a kid in the stables, not anything too horrific but still bad and I really wanna write about it)

Btw there is a wonderful thing (I think it was posted by 7men not sure though) anyway it says something about Jd used some of the money to take care of his mama before she died, and after there wasn’t enough to go to college but there was enough to go out west) I think about it at least once a month

(The war is over if only some people could get that through their thick heads)

Ezra you sneaky son of a bitch pulling a Chico

Chris is such a badass I mean that must hurt pulling off that handcuff

Round Three

I’m a bad bitch “You can’t kill me”

John Daniel Dunne- are you kidding me, are you trying to make either myself or Buck die because if you are you’re doing a great job (He is so stupid)

Buck, really you could have tackled him or really done anything else- instead you decide to fucking get stabbed by a sword (this is why you only have half a brain cell- I mean God fucking damn it)

Really Jo seriously like thanks for taking a bullet for Buck but really

Watching this episode has taken almost three hours but it’s totally worth it

(This is the worst part ugh it's like a weird zombie movie)

“You were like a son to me” Bitch you nearly shot him with a cannon

Chris thank you I wasn’t sure if that stupid general was gonna bite it or not

Jd cut out the angst you’re gonna hurt yourself

This old dude is a gift

“Buck, you look awful” kid your hair looks awful don’t let me get started

Nathan, Raine and the kid look like the perfect family and it makes me smile

“Where you going? Get down off that horse” poor Nathan what did he do to deserve the stress of dealing with those idiots like seriously what did he do

The good thing though is I’m pretty sure Josiah got a new poncho which is definitely a win

Raine gets it though she’s just ‘look those white morons are gonna get themselves killed so it’s better if you at least try to save their skins’ I can handle things here

Poor Josiah, he is just as hunched over as he can be, its pitiful

Okay I’m FINALLY done with this episode, think I may read a little before I get back on the saddle and on to my absolute favorite episode One Day Out West

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