#man alan in this one... he has this one shot that is kind of enough to make you forget about the song

[picspammer]

never let me down

#jesus and his disciples or whatever idk much about Christianity 🤦 #what an epic song. i feel like gary numan rn #jsjsjs that sentence looks weird he said something about it just look it up #depeche mode #never let me down again #music for the masses #whenever i think about that album title i think about a tumblr user with the funniest url #yes it's music for them asses JSJSJ #dave gahan #martin gore #alan wilder #andy fletcher #fletch #man alan in this one... he has this one shot that is kind of enough to make you forget about the song #mftm #depechemodeedit

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Crossfire - Pt 1 Jack Reacher (Alan Ritchson) x F/AFAB! Reader.

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given. Specific Warnings: This is pure smut with story (but it’s mostly about the smut), Size kink, teasing, mutual pining, angst, P in V unprotected (birth control and trust re STI’s(get checked up and keep your partners informed frens)), drinking, swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of war/war fighting, mentions of PTS/PTSD, trauma, military terminology, strip teasing, rough sex, size kink, (small) praise kink, feisty Reader. No mention of Y/N, Reader has nicknames, Teach/Bambi, was in the army with reacher, still doing covert stuff as a mercenary. This is a one shot, but might look at more instalments if people like it. Wordcount: 5,829

Summary: You run into Reacher after years apart. The flames that once burned inside you are ash, but the way he looks at you could start a forest fire.

Author’s Notes: I love Alan Ritchson and having watched Fast X and Reacher recently well… There’s an itch I want him to scratch.

Crossfire

The shitty inner-city bar was loud, too loud. Your ears ring as you watch the banker-bros and their dates laughing it up as they dance without rhythm to the modest-at-best live band. You worry at the label on your third beer bottle. The discarded shredded paper piling up as you try and calm your nerves.

“You doing alright there Teach?” Frankie, Frances Neagley, asks as she slides into the high stool opposite you. Her hair is pulled back in a tie, her olive drab denim tucked close against her as she twitches as people move too close to her, yet not close enough to touch her.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that.” You sigh, shaking your head at the nickname that had stuck since West Point between you, Neagley, and Reacher.

“Do you prefer Bambi? We can call you that if you want?” Reacher’s deep rumble sets off a warmth in your spine you’ve tried to push from you mind for years. You swivel on your stool to take in the bull of a man that is raking his analytical blue-green eyes all over you. You mirror his analysis, taking in the new scars, harder lines on his face.

He’s aged faster than his years.

You think to yourself as you flip him the bird.

“That was one time, Teach at least has provenance.” You scoff, hating both nicknames but at least Teach was rooted in renown.

“How you holding up?” He asks you. With the way he’s looking at you, he’s clearly aware of the mercenary missions you’ve been on, even though he had been out of the force for some time. You’re unsurprised but it still bothers you how honed in on your life he always is.

“Nothing to report Sir,” You hiss, emphasising the last word to dig at him, “If you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.” Reacher has his hooks into you, always able to press your buttons.

“Hey,” Frankie interjects, shooting Reacher a venomous glare before turning back to you, “You can leave if you want, but don’t let him be the reason, he’s not worth it.”

“I’m standing right here.” Reacher says matter-of-factly as he looks between the two of you.

“You’re kind of hard to miss,” You scoff, rolling your eyes but you look back at Frankie and relent, “Alright, Reacher, stay out of my way, I want to have a good time tonight.” You glower at him and the softest, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth has you cursing your own stubbornness. You should never had agreed to meet, and even then the moment he turned up you should have bugged out and high-tailed it home.

“Yes Ma’am.” He says softly before stepping away and blending into the swirling mass of the crowd. You try not to allow yourself to be impressed at the ease at which he could do that, considering his bulk and height.

“You two ever actually fuck?” Frankie asks you and you almost choke on the dregs of your beer.

“No, never, fucking hell Neagley, you trying to kill me?” You splutter, well aware that you’re far too flustered. Reacher notices it too and you see the vein on his neck pop as he stifles a triumphant smile.

“You should have, would’ve made things easier.” She shrugs as she takes another swig of her beer.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You needle back, knowing well that your relationship was tight knit enough to make that joke.

“Fair, but you’re a slutty little bisexual, either fuck him and get it over and done with or get over yourself.” Frankie says with a twitch of her lips. She has you there. The only thing that ever stopped you from fucking Reacher was your own ego.

“Fuck you.” You grumble as you gesture between your empty drinks before asking the obvious, “You want another?”

“As long as you’re buying.” Frankie says with a dazzling smile.

“Always, be back in a flash.” You say with a smirk. You love Frankie, you’d even, sort-of kind-of, dated for a while when you left the service, but Frankie being such a haptephobiac scuppered things for you both. You loved each other dearly but you’re a tactile, sexual person, and having to supress your own instincts wasn’t healthy for either of you. But it didn’t stop you loving one another, and that was something neither of you denied, you just expressed it differently, and that was ok.

You make your way to the bar, waiting patiently as the other, dressed up women got served before you. You’d grown used to it, you never dressed up, not for weddings, not for funerals, not for anyone. It had it’s perks, but in a bar, it meant you were served when you were served. You drum your fingers on the edge of the bar after a while, slowly getting tired of waiting.

“Hey,” Reacher’s low rumble makes you shiver as his large form cages you in. His navy shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as you see the firm, thick cords of his forearms hem you in as his large hands rest on the bar, “How’s Civvy life treating you?” He breathes into the shell of your ear as you shudder beneath him.

“Shit, I can’t be as lucky as you and land myself in the middle of murder investigations and big ol’ conspiracies like you J.” You say, using the nickname you know he hates.

“It cost me a brother, so I don’t know if you can call that luck.” He growls against your skin as he inches forward slowly. You feel the brush of his fucking marbled pecs against your shoulders as he tries to draw you in. This was a dance you had both done many times, riling the other up, pushing the limits to breaking point. But there was always an angle, exploiting each other’s vulnerabilities to get what you wanted, or needed.

It’s the toxic part of your relationship with Reacher you never allow yourself to admit to, but it’s also the only thrill you get anymore. Years of the brass putting warfighting over warfighters meant you were numb to just about any stimulus. Except Reacher.

“Fair,” You nod, trying to keep your mind clear as your whole body screams to push back against Reacher, goad him on so he can finally give you what you’ve craved for over a decade, “But we both know you’re not here for sentimentality and feelings.” You breathe, trying so damned hard not to grind back against him.

He wants something, whatever this is will cost you.

“Correct.” He grumbles before a hand falls from the bar, resting against your hip instead, “Tell me to stop, tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk away.” He pants against the clammy skin of your neck as you try to wrestle control from the primal part of your brain that would let him rail you right now, against the bar in front of everyone.

“Why now?” You ask, the logical part of your brain interrupting at just the wrong time, you want to take it back, let Jack play his game, maybe let him win for once, then let him fuck you into oblivion but that simple question shatters the illusion. 

“Never mind, have a good night, see you ‘round Teach.” Reacher’s tone is clipped as he detaches from you with surgical precision. His body melds back into the crowd instantly as he flees from you retreating back to reality once more.

The bartender finally reaches you and you order your drinks, skulking back to find Frankie gone too. You check your phone and see that she’s bailed. You sit for a while, not touching the drinks for some time, trying to reconcile the night in your mind.

You down your beer and leave Frankie’s drink on the table before ordering an uber. You wait outside and almost scoff at the fact it took you less than a minute to realise Reacher was tailing you. He’s good, but so are you. You spend your nights checking for every sniper position, any potential ambush site. PTS, having the audacity to exist as a woman in the army, and pre-existing anxiety meant you were always hypervigilant.

You head back to your apartment, abandoning the Uber plan as you nip down dark alleyways. Every time he’s there. Sometimes a step ahead, often two or three behind as you watch him grunt in frustration from a rooftop as he reaches a dead end you guided him into.

*

You flop down on your shitty little sofa as the water still beads at your skin from the shower. You know he’s here, already inside your apartment. The tape you leave over the seams of your sash windows peeled back and replaced almost perfectly, but the room felt off, so when you prodded the adhesive tape it had flaked back without resistance. You had checked the bathroom first, wanting to shower uninterrupted, but you left the door ajar, just enough that if he wanted to, Reacher could see your naked form as you washed vigorously in your wet room.

You look around the studio apartment, the bare wood floors and deep red brick walls helped keep your anxiety in check, dirt shows less, stains easier to cover up. There is so little in the sparse room you’re starting to wonder if you were being paranoid. Then you hear the shift from the mezzanine bedroom. You gaze moves to look up through the balcony, eyes shifting along the dimly lit platform.

“You want a beer Jack?” You ask at the space under the bed you couldn’t see from here, position he was most likely in and you hear the soft grunt at the use of his first name. There’s a pause, where you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he decides it’s worth staying hidden for any longer.

“Fine.” He huffs as he rolls out from under your bed, exactly where you thought he’d be. Your bed is one of the few places anyone could hide in your apartment and you kept it that way for a reason. You pad over to the kitchen and grab a pair of import beers from the fridge, taking your time, hoping your loose linen shorts and thin tank top would entice Reacher to crowd you from behind again. But you’re left hanging as you hear the creak of your dilapidated groan under Reacher’s weight.

“So, what do you want?” You ask, nudging thew fridge door shut with your hip before you saunter over to sit on the coffee table, Reacher, even if he wasn’t currently sprawled across the whole length, would have taken up too much space for you to be comfortable.

“You.” Reacher says without pause, his sea glass blue eyes raking over the ample amounts of bare skin you have on show. You pop open the bottles with the end of the lighter on the coffee table next to your ashtray full of burnt-out joints, as you lazily take in the way Reacher’s tight jeans hug his strong thighs. The way his biceps strain against the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt has heat flooding straight to your core.

“Denied, anything else I can do for you?” You ask as you hand him the beer, his large fingers brush against yours and you have to battle with your self-control to pull away. Your skin is on fire, your heart in your throat as you feel the pressure of over ten years of pent up desire blotting out the rational part of your mind.

“Can I crash here?” He asks before taking a long swig of beer, you watch shamelessly at the way his throat muscles contract and flex as he swallows.

“Nope.” You breathe, your walls already crumbling as you actually consider saying yes.

“What’s up your ass Teach?” Reacher groans, his eyes hard as he sets the beer down on the table before shifting up into a sitting position, his knees brush yours and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The friction of his jeans against your bare skin, the intensity if his look, his hard stare, all of it riles you up and you have to force yourself to think straight.

“Just getting tired of whatever this is.” You gesture between your chest and his, the truth of your words biting as you steel yourself. You don’t want to fuck this up, you’re in the right place for the first time ever to actually let him in, but you can’t shake the decades of cold hard walls you had festooned around you.

“Understood, see you around,” And he says your name, soft, tender, vulnerable against his stoic, harder than titanium, façade he puts up for everyone. Everyone but you.

Reacher makes it two long strides, which was more like four of your own, before you grab him from behind, wrapping him in a bear hug as you anchor yourself to him. You notice the twitch of involuntary movement as your unexpected contact triggers his fight reflex. But he stills immediately, hands balled at his sides. You press your face into the span between his shoulder blades, inhaling the familiar cotton-fresh, pressed linen and neutral soap smell that you always associated with Reacher. No perfumed frills, as always he was utilitarian, clean, safe.

“Stay.” You whisper into his shirt trying not to sound as needy as you felt, but it’s painfully clear how much you needed this, you can’t hide it from yourself, and you certainly could never hide your feelings from Reacher, no matter how hard you both tried to ignore them.

God he’s warm.

“‘Sure? Seemed pretty clear you wanted me gone.” Reacher says as he places his strong hands on your forearms, as if to move them, but the moment his fingers brush your skin you feel the flash of desire in your chest, striking down your spine like lightning. The hitch in Reacher’s breath tells you he feels it too.

“Look at me.” You order, and without hesitation he turns in your arms, his hands sliding up to touch the bare skin of your biceps. The friction is maddening as you try to suppress the urge to jump him, to wrap your legs around his torso and fuse your lips to his.

“What?” Reacher says with a grunt, his jaw is tight with tension, eyes burning with desire in the low light of your apartment. His thumbs brush the skin of your biceps as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Kiss me.” You breathe, all thought, every ounce of bravado and cold, self-imposed emotional exile thrown to the wind. He hesitates for a split second before he claims your mouth with his own. It’s slow, cautious at first, barely a brush of skin on skin but that’s all it takes. It’s like kerosene poured on a bonfire, explosive, pressured, and unbearably hot. Nothing can stop this blaze now, and you were past being worried about getting burned.

Jack cups his right hand around the back of your neck, cradling it perfectly in his large hand as the other falls to your hip, pulling you against him, fisting the flimsy linen shorts in his hand as he groans down into you. His tongue presses against the seam of your mouth and you open willingly, moaning as his thick, hot tongue dominates you.

“Bed.” You mumble against his lips, pulling away to look up into his lust blown eyes, then you see a flash of mischief in his eyes. Before you can challenge him you’re being thrown over his shoulder. You yelp, embarrassment flooding you as you hear it, cursing yourself for getting caught off guard. Reacher chuckles, charging up the stairs two at a time before practically throwing you on the bed. You bounce lightly against the paisley blue sheets and glare at him, trying to muster every ounce of venom built up over the years for this man. But all you can manage is a pout, which only makes Reacher smirk triumphantly down at you from the foot of the bed.

“Clothes. Off.” Reacher growls the order and a flash of defiance makes you bold. You shift onto your knees and cross your arms, staring up at him with an eyebrow cocked in challenge.

“Make me.” You respond with a scoff, you might have obliged if he had asked nicely, maybe.

“Brat.” Reacher growls before slipping off his watch, kicking off his boots, and taking off his belt. You flush a little as you realise he’s removing anything damaging, sharp, or otherwise uncomfortable. They fall into a pile to his right before he looks you up and down, analytical as always as he prepares to strike.

You expect him to lunge at you, go in for the kill shot and use his brute strength to make you submit but that’s never been the game between you two. It’s always been about the chase, the delayed gratification, the thrill of drawing it out. The bed shifts dramatically as he lowers himself onto his knees.

Fuck, he’s big.

You think to yourself as he kneels, thighs spread as he towers over you. You shuffle back, feet brushing against the pillows as he slowly inches closer. His large hands fall to the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open one by one. Each painfully slow motion reveals more and more of his muscular form. Sure, you’d seen Reacher naked before, hell you think you’ve seen him in every state of undress, including when you had to fish out a stray bullet and patch him up in Moldova. But this was different. This was for you.

“Trade?” Reacher says as he reaches the bottom button, his navy shirt hanging off his shoulders, exposing the scarred, rippling torso you knew so well. You could map every scar on his body, or so you thought, new, fresh, still-pink lines and indentations on his skin made you shudder.

“Trade for what Jack?” You say, trying to get under his skin as much as he had already gotten under yours.

“My shirt for yours?” He asks, eyebrow raised in challenge. You know if you refuse you’ve lost, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting you naked too quickly.

“Your shirt for one article of clothing of my choosing?” You barter and he cocks his head quizzically but nods slowly. You smirk and slip down the straps of your sports bra before unclasping it and throwing it away. It was the same colour as your tank top so it hadn’t been obvious it was there until your breasts spill out against the tight fabric of your tank top. Reacher’s eyes go glassy as you see his position shift on the bed, even in the low tungsten lighting you could see the bulge in his dark jeans.

“Impressive.” He breathes, you aren’t sure if he meant your trade, or your breasts, but it didn’t matter. The praise had you open mouthed and trying not to squirm as he inches closer, shouldering off the shirt. He goes to throw it on the floor but you snatch it from his hand, quickly pulling it over your shoulders. It swamps you and you bury your nose into the collar to inhale the crisp, clean smell of Reacher before looking back up through your eyelashes at him. His hand trembles as he swipes it back through the short hair on top of his head.

“What next?” You purr, taking in the broad expanse of his shoulders, his thick neck, and the soft yet defined muscles of his chest and abs. Reacher wordlessly pulls down his zipper, slowly shifting his jeans down over his thighs, letting them pool at his knees as he watches you like a hawk. You exhale aggressively through your nose as you see the dark patch of pre-come on his grey boxers, his cock straining against the tight fabric. You knew he had a big dick, but seeing it erect, erect for you has you pushing your thighs together as your cunt aches to be touched.

He stays like that for a few more agonising seconds and you’re almost at breaking point, about to relent and strip bare for him to take you right there when he finally hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his jeans and manages to take them off in a graceful motion, without moving from his knees.

You don’t wait for the next instruction, you had a plan, you mimic his actions in removing your shorts, pooling them at your knees to reveal the white cotton panties that hugged your mound. They were slick with your own arousal, making them cling to you in a way that made you ache further.

“Fuck.” Reacher hisses as he wipes one large hand over his face, sweat beading on his brow as his eyes roam your body, of course he notices the way your panties cling to you, the way your mouth is parted and eyes blown out with desire. He notices the peaks of your nipples painfully hard and pebbled under the thin fabric of the tank top.

“Looks like you’ve only got one piece left to trade Reacher, going to have to pick what I take off next.” You breathe as you bite on your lip, your eyes piercing his as you notice his Adam’s apple bob violently as he swallows hard.

“Me first.” He rasps, thumbs sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers, revealing a smattering of light brown curls as he lowers his underwear slowly, letting his cock spring free with a bounce. You exhale through your nose to try and alleviate the desire building at the base of your spine but you can’t help the whine that accompanies it. He’s larger than you remember and, but then again you’d never seen him hard, and the pearlescent bead of pre-come leaking from his thick, ruddy tip had your hands balling into fists at your side. You notice the slight upwards curve of it and try not to think about how it was going to feel tight inside you.

He watches you with a smug grin, clearly feeling like he had already won but you look away from his beautiful cock and back up into his hungry eyes.

“What next?” You ask, voice pathetic and breathy but you weren’t ready to buckle yet. Reacher swiftly takes off his boxers before shuffling closer, looking between your cotton panties and your peaked nipples as they strain against the fabric.

“Top.” He murmurs, he’s so close now you can smell the perspiration over the usual freshness of Reacher and it does nothing but increase the ache between your thighs. You had hoped he’d say that, you don’t waste your time now, shrugging off his shirt before, peeling the material over your head with a huff as you lose your vision for a split second. The bed shifts beneath you and when you pull the tank top over your head you see him, towering over you, knees almost touching as he tilts his head down at you with a wide smile on his face.

He says nothing but slowly leans forward, his chest millimetres from your face as he reaches behind you to pull his shirt back over your shoulders. You shudder as his fingers brush the bare skin of your shoulders before looking up into his blue-green eyes as you see the strain in his neck muscles as he tries to hold back.

“Looks like you lost Reacher, I’ve still got my panties on.” You breathe as he rocks back down onto his knees, his fingertips trailing down from your shoulders before he reaches your pebbled nipples. He brushes his knuckles against the sensitive buds and you arch forward at the touch, the pleasure blinding as his rough skin scrapes blissfully against them.

“Who said getting naked was the goal?” He asks, his hands trailing down to your thighs, gripping the flesh of your ass in his hands as he leans down into you, his strong nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just short of your own.

“Then what?” You breathe, your right hand rests atop his on your ass, you trail your middle and index fingers down from the hollow of his neck, following the valley of his sternum and tight stomach before ghosting along the patch of curls just above his shaft.

“I think you know.” He breathes, pressing his forehead against your own as he wrestles internally for control.

“Hmmm, think I need you to spell it out for me Reacher.” You counter, removing your hand from his torso to slide it up your thigh instead, tracking slowly up to the seam of your panties where they curve over your mound.

“Fuck.” He grunts but clearly not giving in so easily. You smile and push up on your knees, forcing his hands up as you unfold your legs, flopping back against the pillows under him as you cant your hips up towards him. His hands shift up from your thighs as you move, pinning you down by your hips as he moans above you. You hook your ankles over his calves and look up into his dark eyes with your best bedroom eyes, batting your eyelids as you pull your right hand up to your mouth, pulling your panties to the side with your left. The air hits your soaked pussy and you shudder at the sensation. Reacher’s eyes don’t leave yours, not daring to look down.

“Teach.” Reacher growls in warning but that only spurs you on more. You push your two fingers into your mouth slowly, all the way to the knuckle, hollowing your cheeks out as you suck hungrily on your own digits. He watches you, entranced as you pull them back out, saliva glistening between the digits as you lower them to your clit. Reacher says nothing as he follows them down, he’s practically vibrating with tension now.

You slide your fingers through your drenched folds, whimpering at the sensation as you gather your arousal over your fingers, you bring them back up to your lips but before they get there Reacher snatches your wrist in his hand. Without pause he pulls them into his mouth and groans around your fingers as he laves his tongue between them, savouring your slick like a man starved. Your fingers leave his mouth with a pop and he breathes your name as he cups your cheek with one hand, the other tight on your hip, you were sure it was going to bruise but you didn’t care. He repeats your name again through ragged breaths.

“I give in, can I please fuck you?” He asks and triumph takes a backseat in your mind as you feel the heat rush through your veins.

“Yes.” You breathe against his lips and he presses his tongue into your pliable mouth. You can taste yourself on him and you moan as the hand on your hip pulls you flush against him as he devours you. His length grinds against your slit, rubbing blissfully at your clit as you buck up into him. You want his cock so bad, you wriggle and whimper against him as he continues to lick into your mouth with fervour.

“Need another taste.” He mumbles as he pulls back, dropping onto his elbows as he wastes no time pressing his thick tongue deep into your desperate little hole. You cry out and buck up into it as he laps up your arousal. He shifts up to your clit, swiftly replacing his tongue with two of his large fingers. You cry out as the stretch burns but it’s soon assuaged by the way he sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue in rapid, punishing circles as he fucks you with his strong fingers, his knuckles rutting against your core as you feel the burning heat of your orgasm building. He laps greedily against your clit as he picks up the pace thrusting into your cunt with his fingers.

It’s blinding, like a supernova spreading from the base of your spine, blowing through your cunt and splintering at your toes as you convulse around his digits. You quake as he continues to piston in and out of you as you ride through your orgasm. He watches your face twist and contort, occasionally flicking his tongue against your clit to elicit another shudder from you.

“Jack.” You plead, cupping his jaw as you gently push him away.

“Sorry, ‘just looked too good, twitchin’ f’me.” He babbles, your slick coating his hard jaw as he looks down at you with reverence. You pant up at him but you’re still not truly sated, you want more, so much more. You reach down to his cock and grip him tightly at the base, Reacher’s eyes go wide and he smiles down wickedly at you.

“You sure?” He asks, placing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, teasing his tongue against the skin there.

“Please.” You beg, you need to feel him, need him to split you open. Reacher groans softly and nestles down between your legs, one hand on his cock, the other holding you steady by your hip. He swipes his head through your folds before pausing in realisation.

“Do you have a condom?” He asks, voice strained as he tries to be good, to do the right thing.

“Reacher I’ve not had sex in months, I’ve had clean bills of health since, and I’m on the pill, unless you’re packing an STI,” You look up at him this time with a face of judgement, “Which I will be pissed we’ve gotten this far and you haven’t said anything,” You add and he grins down at you incredulously, “I’m down if you are.” You say, looking between where his thick head is already stretching your entrance and his handsome face.

“Hundred percent sure?” He asks once more, twitching as he tries to restrain himself.

“Reacher, just fuck me already.” You growl. Reacher obeys and presses his tip inside, the stretch so much more intense than his fingers but you’re already so wet it’s no more than a pleasant burn.

“Fuck, so tight.” He breathes, easing further in as you buck up into him, your legs wrapping around his waist, ankles crossed to pull against his lower back. He groans as he finally lets go, thrusting deep into you as you cry out in bliss. He fills you so tightly it’s overwhelming, you squirm under him as he brings a hand down to swipe his thumb against your clit.

“Fuckin’ Beautiful.” He growls as he starts a steady pace, his balls slapping gently against your ass each time as he bottoms out. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks down into you, spurring him on his thick cock rakes against your fluttering walls as every thrust threatens to unravel you.

“Reacher, fuck.” You groan as his tip hits your g-spot, making you writhe and clench, your right hand falls from his shoulder as you drop it down to swat his hand out of the way. You circle your clit with two fingers, matching his pace with ease fro this angle. He growls at the sight of you touching yourself as he fucks into you harder now, both hands on your hips as his rhythm falters.

“Can I-?” Reacher begins to ask but you cut him off, scraping angry red marks down his chest.

“Come inside me.” You command and that, combined with the sensation of your nails biting into his skin has Reacher stuttering his hips against you as he paints your walls with his spend. You come seconds later, pulsating around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, not slowing until you’re fully spent.

He rolls off you, almost falling off the modest double bed, only for you to catch his arm as you move over to give him some room. His cum is leaking out of you but you don’t care, sheets can be washed, or burned, but this moment with Reacher is precious.

“You ok there Teach?” He asks breathlessly as he turns to face you, pulling you against his chest, looping his strong thigh over yours caging you in against him.

“Seriously? Did you not hear me? Ok would be an insult to you.” You say with a laugh, prodding his sternum lightly with your finger.

“Fair point.” He says as he runs his fingers up ad down your body, tracing every curve, every scar, noting the places where you shudder. You place soft kisses to his chest, dragging your nails of your free hand up and down his back. It’s the most tender moment you’ve ever had, with anyone and the fact it was Reacher who was giving it to you was bizarre but you don’t care. After a while you feel yourself drifting off, but you know you need to wash up, even if you had only just showered.

“Reacher, gotta pee, c’mon.” You grumble against his skin and he sighs.

“I know.” He says softly as he places a kiss to the top of your head, but neither of you move, both terrified that if you let go it will shatter the illusion, the perfect moment neither of you wanted to lose.

“Reacher?” You whisper, anxiety bubbling in your throat as you prepare to ask the question that almost ruined it earlier.

“Hmm?” He responds sleepily, it he props himself up on his elbow and blinks the sleep away as he hears the concern in your voice.

“Why now?” You ask softly, trying to maintain eye contact, not wanting to shy away from this.

“Because,” He says softly, cupping your left cheek as he looks at you in earnest, “I’ve lost a lot of people I love, and I’m tired of pushing the people I love away, because I’d rather live and lose than never live at all.” He says and you can’t help but stifle a giggle.

“Did you just paraphrase Shakespeare at me?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“It’s Tennyson, actually.” He grunts but the smile doesn’t leave his lips. You roll your eyes, he always was more into poetry than you.

“Do you want to crash here?” You ask softly leaning up to meet his lips, the kiss is soft, passionate, yet not the same as the hunger from before.

“Thought you’d never ask, c’mon let’s get cleaned up, I’m exhausted.” He mutters against your lips before hoisting you up into his arms, swinging his legs over the bed before carrying you to the bathroom. You grumble something about manhandling being degrading but he just laughs, because he knows deep down you like it. And you do too.

“Nobody knows it, but you’ve got a secret smile, and you use it only for me.” - Semisonic (Was listening to this while about mid-way through this and I just thought it was appropriate. Let me know what you think! I really liked writing this and would love some more Reacher stuff as it's pretty sparse as far as I can see? As always, likes and reblogs and comments are SO appreciated.

#Reacher #jack reacher x you #jack reacher smut #jack reacher #jack reacher x f!reader #alan ritchson #fanfic #fanfiction #jack reacher fanfiction #jack reacher fanfic #jack reacher x female reader #Frances Neagley is sneaky #vi writes #viwrites #viwritessmut #smut

[firstkanaphans]

I love these prompts. How about J for AlanGaipa?

[J]oking about kissing—and then actually doing it::

Alan was drunk. He hadn’t meant to be—he was usually very good at holding his liquor—but some things you just weren’t meant to go through sober and attending the wedding of an ex was apparently one of them. He’d started the evening off with a shot to settle his nerves and it had all been downhill from there. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for Wen. They hadn’t been good for each other—he realized that now—but seeing him at the front of a church smiling as he made promises of forever brought back memories Alan had tried very hard to bury. He wasn’t sad so much as lonely. So, in what he could only describe as a fit of deep depression, he stole a bottle of wine from the bar and snuck away to drink it.

He ended up sprawled out on the grass in the back corner of the spacious gardens where the reception was being held and although the sounds from the party drifted out to him, it was far enough away that he felt like he was alone. Or at least he had until a man turned the corner, spotted him, and stopped in his tracks. 

Alan was drunk enough that he had to squint to bring the man into focus. Only then did he recognize Gaipa. He tried to sit up straighter in an effort to maintain just a bit of dignity in front of a client, but he immediately slunk back down again. He didn’t have the energy—or the sobriety—for professionalism tonight. He took another swig from the wine bottle instead.

“Khun Alan,” Gaipa greeted. “Are you hiding, too?”

“My ex just married the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life,” Alan grumbled. “Of course I’m hiding.”

Gaipa chuckled and then, to Alan’s surprise, took a seat on the ground next to him. “Mind if I join you?”

Alan made a barely intelligible noise of consent and Gaipa smiled at him softly before turning his attention to the sky. Alan tried to follow his gaze, but looking upwards made him feel dizzy, so he settled for staring at Gaipa instead. The moonlight shining off of his skin made him look like a statue: beautiful and stoic. Alan wanted to admire him. 

“What are you hiding for?” Alan asked after almost a minute of silence. “I thought you were part of their happy little chicken cult.”

“Chicken cult?” Gaipa laughed.

Alan waved him off. “You know what I mean.”

Gaipa just stared at him, that ever-present kindness in his eyes. There was something else there this time, though. A darkness that Alan often saw reflected in his own. Gaipa looked away.

“I might have spent a good decade of my life in love with one of the grooms,” he said forlornly. “I guess I’m just mourning what could have been. But it’s fine. It’s totally fine. Would you mind if I had a sip of that?”

Alan passed over the wine bottle and Gaipa took several large gulps before lowering it with a wince. “I don’t actually like wine,” he said in explanation. 

That didn’t surprise Alan. Gaipa was young and uncomplicated. He was also very, very pretty.

“It’s his loss, you know,” Alan said, taking the wine bottle back from him. “Unfortunately, your precious Uncle Jim has horrible taste in men.”

A slight blush rose to Gaipa’s cheeks. Alan wasn’t sure if it was because of the words or the wine. 

“It’s their loss,” Gaipa corrected. “Wen was an idiot for leaving you. If only they could see us now…”

“Drunk and pining?” Alan asked.

“No.” Gaipa laughed. “Together. Trash talking them at their own wedding. You know, I bet between the two of us, we know all of their dirty little secrets. We’re a force to be reckoned with. They should fear us.”

“Oh, if they saw us together, they would hate it,” Alan said. “Can you imagine? Just an ever-constant reminder of their past mistakes.”

It was a nice thought. And not just because Alan wanted Wen to see that he still had options. It was nice because it was Gaipa and sitting here with him was the least lonely Alan had felt in weeks. 

The two of them looked at each other as the words and the alcohol settled between them and Alan could tell that they were thinking the exact same thing. He wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but the next thing he knew, they were kissing.

Gaipa’s lips tasted like sweet red wine and revenge.

When Alan finally pulled away, his heart was racing, inundated with feelings he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Gaipa didn’t run. He just sat there, his mouth open in surprise.

“I don’t think it’ll work unless they can actually see us,” Gaipa said, but Alan’s desires had suddenly changed. This moment wasn’t for Wen anymore. It was for him. So he leaned in, tangled his fingers in Gaipa’s hair, and kissed him again until the wedding became nothing more than background noise.

[Part 2 here]

#i'm kinda obsessed with this one actually #thank you for the prompt 🙏🏻 #moonlight chicken #moonlight chicken fic #alangaipa #alangaipa fic #sarah writes things #fluff prompt abcs

[mygreatadventurehasbegun]

My Favorite New-To-Me Movies of 2023

Women Talking

This movie won the Oscar of Best Adapted Screenplay and deservedly so...it's scenes are so tightly written and delivered so beautifully by the incredible cast of actresses, that it held my attention for the entire runtime. Every performance was fantastic, and I wish at least one of them had received recognition from the Academy...personally my vote would have been for Claire Foy, but any one of them could have walked away with a nomination.

Pearl

This was such an interesting horror flick...the saturated color palette, the extreme bursts of violence and of course, the magnificent performance by Mia Goth. She was absolutely fascinating to watch...the character of Pearl is so desperate to leave her home and to become a star that she will stop at nothing to get what she wants.

They Shoot Horses, Don't They?

While I consider this to be one of the best movies I've seen this year...it's not necessarily one I'd ever want to watch again. At least not in the near future...because this movie is bleak. During the Great Depression, a group of people sign up for a dance marathon with the hope of winning the prize money. All the characters are so compelling and interesting to watch. Absolutely recommend watching it, especially for Jane Fonda's outstanding performance...but you might finish the movie a bit depressed.

Deathtrap

Man, this movie is fun. It's the kind of movie that I can't say too much about, because the plot is so full of twists...but the basic idea is: A famous playwright, coming off a string of flops, learns that his former student has written a surefire hit play, and he conspires to murder his student and take the play as his own. And you have Christopher Reeve wearing some fantastic sweaters.

Sweet Smell of Success

This movie is so good, I don't even know where to start. The performances, the writing, the cinematography...it's such a perfect example of a noir film (especially one that doesn't focus on a murder or a detective). I wasn't sure what to expect when I started, but from the moment I pressed play, I was completely engrossed.

The Last of Sheila

I really caught up on my murder mysteries this year...and The Last of Sheila is a really great one. Another movie that I can't say too much about because of it's twisty plot...but I will say you can definitely see how it influenced Rian Johnson for his Knives Out films. Also, this was co-written by Anthony Perkins and Stephen Sondheim!

Catch-22

I blind bought this one after Alan Arkin's death...I had never seen it, but thought it seemed like a fun enough film to take the gamble on. And boy, was I right! While I can see why some critics didn't love it back then, this movie is so wonderfully bonkers, I can't help but love it! The witty dialogue, clever shot composition and excellent performances by a massive cast make this movie a real treat!

Home Before Dark

This was a very random find for me...I actually just came across it on TV when it was starting and decided to stick with it (just like the olden days, get off my lawn). And while the movie itself isn't perfect, I was completely drawn in by Jean Simmons' performance. Her character has just returned home from a stay at an asylum, and while she tries to reacclimate to life at home, we start to see her lose it again...but we aren't sure if she is actually being pushed towards that breakdown intentionally. It has a few shades of the movie Gaslight, for sure.

The Collector

This may have been my favorite new-to-me movie of the year! It is such an intense and uncomfortable film, with amazing performances by the two lead actors and an ending that I did not see coming. Given the story and the setting, I could almost see this easily being turned into a stage play...I'd love to see a theater try and capture the claustrophobic feeling you get when Miranda is trapped in that cellar.

A few honorable mentions are: All Quiet on the Western Front (2022), The Thin Man, Sound of Metal, Persona and Somewhere in Time (this one mostly for the melodrama, lol)

Here's to more movies in 2024!

#the collector 1965 #home before dark #sweet smell of success #women talking #they shoot horses don't they #the last of sheila #deathtrap #pearl #catch 22 #movies

[jimmyspades]

I sent the fatherly pinstripe suit ask half way through the ep. HOWEVER!!! That night he told Denny that he got his university girlfriend pregnant…. He was SO close to becoming a dad </3 

2 eps later and we get FANTASTIC shots of Alan in an old timey swimsuit

This is only tangentially related but Alan is such an interesting character to me partly bc of his lack of anger. Like of course he gets pissed off but he rarely loses his temper, he’s just not an angry man. And you think about everything he’s been through—his parents’ neglect, being abused as a teenager, losing his wife, even “smaller” things like the abortion

All these things totally out of his control and he could rage against them or anyone, he could be that nasty cruel person, but he doesn’t, he isn’t. He doesn’t complain when he’s talking about his parents, just states things plainly; he doesn’t express anger over his wife’s death (whether it was sudden or not we don’t know but I have Theories); he’s even polite to one of the women who abused him; he’s hurt that he wasn’t consulted but still fully concedes it was his girlfriend’s call to not have the baby, he acknowledges how she must’ve been feeling

He’s got this sort of passive attitude about how he got here, why he is this way. And idk whether that’s acceptance like “these things happened, they were hard but they don’t define me :)” or acceptance like “I deserved all of that”

But under that aloofness, the detachment he tries to maintain, he IS working hard, he’s actively handling things. I think his goal is to have enough control to make sure those things don’t happen to him again. He’s not going to be angry and let it eat away at him, but he’s not going to be abandoned, he’s not going to be used unless it’s on his terms, he’s not going to be in a position where someone else makes his decisions. Maybe that’s why he was so weird in LA when Denny wanted power of attorney to “pull his plug” if anything happened to Alan. Alan has no problem taking care of Denny, but even Denny—who is so often the exception to strict Shore rules—is not permitted to hold that kind of authority over Alan’s autonomy

Wow this was so totally not what this ask is about. But yes his cute little old man Coney Island 1920s swimsuit are you kidding me. The way he waddles around the office in his flippers I’m smooching tf outta him!!!

#saul-okayman #ask #I physically cannot stop myself from writing too much about alan middlename shore #I’m sorry. #alanalysis

[marinacourage]

unpopular opinion but i want Way to get shot while saving Babe but not die and then episode ending with Pete sitting beside Way in hospital. Man is redeemed for everything he did to babe. ( I think it won't make much sense for him to fall for Pete so fast when few days ago he was still pining for his 10 year crush. I want him to take some time. )

And season 2 , I want him to go real apeshit.

Like the way all these hate posts about him make him sound 1000 times worse than he actually is.😑 I mean I fully agree he's has done some very creepy bad villainous deeds lying, manipulating but man Tony, the actual child trafficker doesn't receive 10 % of hate of what Way recieves.😒It's sad and unfortunate but jail doesn't exist for lying and manipulation but child trafficking is serious punishable offence. I have no idea of omegaverse constitution but since Babe have super senses and haven't failed dope test of car racing, so I guess using senses for manipulation also doesn't land you in jail there. ( not my fault, talk to omegaverse lawmakers 🤷‍♀️).

But like people wishing death ending for him, judging him irredeemable, making him sound like some heinous horrible psychopathic serial killer or serial sexual crime offender. 🙃As far I remember even Vegas haven't received this amount of hate when in front of him, Way is a very tame villain. Way does deserve hate but not this much amount of biased hate. 🙂

With the kind of powers Way possess, the world could be in his control. But He manipulated his friend to come to him whenever there's a problem and kept him from having relationship ( even without Way manipulation babe couldn't be in healthy lovely relationship before Charlie because "SMELL"🤢) . I agree Way is definitely very bad person here but I mean he could have been worse. Though that definitely doesn't make him good person, there's a difference, it gives him chance of redeeming himself.

But no, since no one cares, fuck therapy and good guy image. In season 2 , Babe is out of his life ( vacationing somewhere with Charlie and kids) and Way has saved him from death once so their chapter close. Since he experienced almost death once so now it's like a new birth, new life for him, where he's seriously considering his life choices. When he looks in mirror and realises people should go to war for this face.😳 ( yes i read your previous post ) And so this time he should fully unleash his inner mean bitch, go fully unhinged while falling obsessively, possesively for Pete, where he gives no single fucks about anyone except Pete, no babe, no alan, no one else. Just Pete.

Man has been sad and cried enough for 10 yrs. Enough he has kept things in his mind and smiled fake. Now Way doesn't care about etiquettes and keeping faces but spit mean true facts straight on people faces. 😈With the powers he have everyone should be scared of him. Like I want Way to Show them how crazy in love he can be and how far he can cross the lines when he so so deeply falls for someone and that person accepts him. What it actually means when he abuses his powers fully on others with sole reason to keep them away from Pete. What it actually means when he is really possesive and obsessed and how he actually gaslit, gatekeep, girlboss. Him getting on the nerves of every single person and they could do nothing.

I'm not Way apologist, neither I have suffered second lead syndrome from him in beginning. AlanJeff are my bias but I truly enjoy Way character too. But some of the hate posts really annoys me. I don't know what he deserves or not deserves for what he did to Babe, but i really want to see him go crazy batshit for once and fully unleash his inner lunatic bitch in love potential.😌

you almost quoted me with the “getting shot by saving babe waking up in hospital with pete by his side” since that’s exactly how I see their finale and I wrote it yesterday as an answer to a post here on tumbler 😅

honestly I don’t see too much hate towards way, maybe because I’m not looking 😅 i want to believe that many people see where his obsession is coming from, the manipulator manipulated into some pathetic deeds by a more powerful force. what pushed me to empathise with him were his words that went something like “I hoped that if I do what Tony says it will be over” because I can see how a person would be so out of their mind because of constant pressure that they’ll do even violent and disgusting things if it would make it easier on them. I might be wrong of course, I might see the situation wrongly too, but those are my thoughts so far.

i actually don’t believe that way is inherently evil. for me he’s a mean girl that needs a person who will like him and love him for who he is, and not despite who he is. as of now he’s never been fully honest with anybody but pete so even if someone liked him they liked the illusion of him and not the broken sad obsessed failure of a man with gorgeous eyes he is.

I’m almost sure there will be no season 2 but in my mind way will leave racing and lean more into the customer service in the car dealership he works at if I remember correctly. use his talents in a less evil manner let’s say 😅 and ofc pete will be slowly breaking him out of his shell and prove to him that he can be loved in a very sincere way, and Pete’s love must be strong as hell. they are 100% gonna be that one couple that exists in their own world even surrounded by other people.

as for possessiveness I actually believe it would take way lots of time to realise he has the right claim pete in any way, I have a hc that when way finds out that kenta was/is in love with pete he will withdraw severely because he wouldn’t dare to compete, he’s not worthy, same old.

but when in established relationship way would certainly recover his bad bitch persona and be the legendary trophy wife pete deserves.

wow that was a long ass reply 😅 i wonder if you’re the same anon as the previous ask :)

anyways, very interesting discussion, holding out for Friday now ✊

#pit babe the series #pit babe #Peteway #I can’t shut up I won’t shut up

[tanushakyrano]

febuwhump day 22: can't scream

characters: Alan, Virgjl

additional warnings: injury, guns, really sinister guy

______________

"Stay back there. Stay quiet."

Alan repeats the last words Virgil spoke to him over and over like a mantra in his head. The nook he's squeezed himself into is cramped, claustrophobic, but his brother told him to stay here and his brother knows what to do in this situation a hell of a lot more than he does, so Alan is following his instructions to the letter. He's trying to stay so quiet that he keeps forgetting to breathe.

He can't see much from here. A sliver of corridor in front of him, that's all. The lights are well and truly busted; every now and again, one of them flickers half-heartedly on for a second or two, but then it gives up and rejoins the others in pitch darkness. The wallpaper is peeling itself away from the walls, exposing a shoddy plastering job. Dust and grime and god knows what else coats the floor in a carpet of decay. It's a miserable old building - long since abandoned, recently been marked for imminent demolition - and really not the place Alan wanted him or Virgil to die, so he was doing his best to stay quiet and out of the way because he wasn't the best at hand-to-hand combat (any sort of combat, really) and he had a sneaking suspicion that their chances of getting out of this would actually decrease if he tried to help.

So. Here he was, crammed into a tiny corner of a dilapidated building, wishing and hoping and praying that wherever Virgil was, he was dealing with the situation and was okay.

Alan really hoped his brother was okay.

The lack of light and the wall obscuring his view meant that he heard the footsteps well before he saw his brother sprinting full-tilt along the corridor. They were loud, heavy, the footsteps of someone sacrificing stealth for speed. Sure enough, a second set of footsteps hot on his heels heralded the arrival of the mysterious gentleman who'd tried to blow Alan's head off his shoulders about thirteen minutes ago.

Two shots ring out.

It takes every ounce of self-control in Alan's body not to break his promise to Virgil and reveal his hiding spot. A paralysing sound rips itself from his brother's throat - half ragged inhale, half agonised scream - and Alan knows with sickening certainty that at least one bullet (but maybe not both, please not both-) has found its mark.

His hands grip the wall tightly in an effort to physically hold himself back. If Alan runs out to help Virgil now, all he will get for his trouble is a bullet to the head before he can even reach him. He needs to stay alive. Wait for an opportunity. Hope that Virgil hasn't bled out by then.

The man walks into view. He's sauntering slowly, confidently. The gun in his hand is raised almost lazily, pointing straight at Virgil. There's a smirk plastered on his face. Alan would just love to punch it right off.

"International Rescue isn't all it's made out to be, is it?"

He cocks his head like a curious bird. "I mean, you're supposed to be good. You're the foremost rescue organisation on the planet. But I must say, I'm not seeing anything particularly special in you."

Virgil's breathing is heavy, but the loathing sits thick on his tongue as he spits out a response.

"Fuck. You."

"Now, now." The man seems faintly amused. "Your little brother is much too young to hear that kind of language."

Alan's body goes still.

"Your brother certainly has a mouth on him, doesn't he, Alan?"

The man tilts his head, smiles, and turns to point the gun directly at him.

"Now, now, Alan. A well-raised boy like you certainly should have been taught some manners. Why don't you come out and say hello?"

#thunderbirds are go #cora writes #alan tracy #virgil tracy #febuwhump23 #whump #tw injury #tw gun threat

[wellntruly]

M*A*S*H Season 2….it’s top tier for me.

I couldn’t leave well enough alone, strayed off my list, and now come back to you with a new & improved Season 2 Viewguide: Deluxe Edition. I took away two, added four. One was a swap with the bonus eps—it’s going main! Then I added mmm another two more to the bonus list. LISTEN...

Probably it will all start to make sense if you see how long my notes are.

M*A*S*H Season 2 Notes At Last This Time We Took Them!

2x01 ‘Divided We Stand’

“Together, Pierce and McIntyre make a remarkable pair--” and it’s a reveal on them fully losing at strip poker

Radar just steering Klinger away muttering “You’ll get your dress dirty,” my moonbirds <3

A bit that never fails on me is someone being like oh none for me thanks, and then the remark that both glasses are for the other person. I think the earliest I’ve seen this is a Nick & Nora Charles movie in the ‘30s, maybe After The Thin Man? And it definitely happens on M*A*S*H multiple times, here and then I’m sure Margaret does it to Hawkeye in the Officer’s Club in a later season. EVERY TIME, I’m chuckling.

I have been in a state that I believe Hawkeye is in in this moment, where you’ve just been very tired for a long time and something in your emotional cortex is kinda dulled so you’re just sitting there watching someone, not warning them that something startling is about to happen to them, and then it does, and you laugh like the numbed gremlin you’ve become. For me it was tech rehearsal, for them it’s you know, a field hospital in a war. Anyway this is all why 1000% do I believe that this has happened to Hawkeye before, trying to wake Trapper and Trapper practically bruising his arm as he jolts awake with a shout.

I’ve decided to explain the fact that Alda bundles into a cap and scarf at the slightest provocation and Rogers does not with the Watsonian supposition that Trapper runs warm. Test it out, feels true right, feels good.

“I mean as screwy as this outfit is, better the devil you know, right?” and then this little wiggle shrug thing?? McLean???! I’m weeping, why is this whole showers scene hilarious. They keep catching the tail end of Wayne Rogers laughing when they cut to a different shot—that'd be me.

This half stammered exclamation “What the h-ell!?” as Radar runs up on him in the dark, god why is McLean Stevenson SO funny in this episode

“look normal”

They’re all WET in Henry's office right now, the shoulders of their jackets. Had it rained outside? Was there a cut outdoor scene?

“Frank showed up here cracked, with a Bible in one hand and a pair of shorts that said ‘Hold me’ in the other.” Wow orig booty shorts joke courtesy of B.F. Pierce

ACTUALLY. Another notch in the Timeloop Theory is Hawkeye constantly claiming Radar is his son with some member of the outfit (typically Trapper, here Margaret), and people like Henry hurriedly clarifying “He is not!”—yeah, Henry, how long do you think you’ve all been here

/

2x02 ‘5 O’Clock Charlie’

Have we addressed that Hawkeye’s name for Trapper when they’re being Brit-ish is ‘Reggie’? He says it twice.

Alda uses the same drawl of eagerness for “Oh do, Frank [give us a direct order]” that he does when Margaret threatens to kick him and he goes “Would you? With high heels?” Just for everyone's notes.

Hawk & Trap just sure know how to have fun, y’know! We all should have these kinds of relationships!

I like when Trapper goes all smart and take-charge. Very sexy of him.

TRULY this infantry drag routine added a year to my life when I first encountered it. Alan Alda is just so good at this. His extremely pantomime/vaudeville faces to Radar as they fail at all the commands, how very camp it all is, Trapper in MacArthur cosplay with his belt buckled over his untucked shirt and yet still hot, Frank…. an Iconic Scene.

Whomst is this random other guy just noodling on a guitar while Trapper and Hawkeye drink and muse on their problems

Ohhh okay he’s the current dentist. Hey, remember when there were dentists? That totally stops at the transition, huh!

I had definitely missed that they’ve got olives in their shower martini IV bottle. Also: what doesn’t this episode have.

Lololol Odessa Cleveland just hitting this “I’m ready to do the 4:30 feeding.” She really should have stayed around Kellye-style.

That every time Frank goes to pull out his gun it’s some new classic comedy prop they’ve swapped in is wonderful

Hawkeye & Trapper bundling Frank off to get a meal with them, “Why can’t I stay mad at you two lugs?” “We’ll work something out.” God…? <3

/

2x04 ‘For the Good of the Outfit’

Hmm maybe this episode fucks totally? I looooove them going off to take down the US Army, it's a crash to earth in the best way after 'Charlie'

“These fragments are as American as apple pie and Napalm.” Yell! Hell yeah, Trap.

“Radar, if you want me, I won’t be anywhere.” Lol Henry

Filing reports against the Army together, jumping off Lovers Leap together…

Radar translating to their nicknames to Henry under his breath WHAT is happening, I’m hootling

Love Hawkeye with his feet up on a desk, tired eyes and a phone to his ear, Trapper leaning with his collar up behind him, trying to make the American military take responsibility, for once

Writing to his dad in post-op while diegetic jazz plays! Atmosphere~

Whoa I do not remember a lot of this! Stopping Hawkeye’s mail out! Marking his movement “restricted”! This is getting really serious and scary!

Now he’s got his feet up yet his ankles crossed. Incredible advances in gay sitting.

Henry coming off entirely spineless this episode, c’monnn Blake

WOW General Clayton a) threatened to follow them forever, b) or threatened instead to just send them to an aid station to die on the line (implied)!!!!!!!!

“Go, Frank, go.” Trap I love you I love this. The 11th hour inadvertent save by Mssrs. Burns & Houlihan! Good ep good ep

“Take her, he’s mine :)” Hawkeye MY GOD.

/

2x05 ‘Dr. Pierce and Mr. Hyde’

What I like about my new S2 lineup is this run from

“They’re mad, quite mad all of them!” to

hahah ohh yeah no they are all mad, bless ‘em

to suddenly oh JESUS, but also spilling backwards to the two you’ve just watched because like, what else do you DO, you just pull out lawn chairs and a Trans-Atlantic accent and bet about whether Charlie will hit the ammunition dump, or you try to get the whole Army arraigned, it's basically toss a coin each day, heads I win tails you lose

then from there on to the secret third option we haven’t done yet: Maybe Hawkeye Goes Mad For Real

So here we gooooo! (This one is one of my favorite-favorites)

Trapper steering Hawkeye out of surgery is something that can be so—

Running tally: “20 hours of surgery,” “some day and before that it was some night”

Obsessed with all the mud business. The jeep coming by and spraying their legs, the guy tripping and falling in it as he runs. None of this is relevant to the plot or even commented on, it’s just texture.

“Morpheus, don’t just stand there, I’m yours.”

Trapper Watching Hawkeye In This Episode !

Hits on Henry, and that’s a sign. To Henry. I think. I think about a lot of things. Some of it is Henry picking up Hawkeye behaviors that worry him, for what else they are usually masking.

Running tally: Frank has been asleep three times while Hawkeye has gone on operating. Now that one I don’t know quite how to tabulate.

There is something oddly endearing about Hawkeye still trying to hit on the nurses when he’s nearly too tired to even lift his arms from where Radar is pushing him by in a wheelchair. I think it’s that there is so obviously no real intent behind it, no actual design to follow through with these offers. Just saying words recreationally, as the post goes.

Radar: “Now let me get you to bed here, make sure you’re comfortable.” Hawkeye: “That’s what they all say.” Hawk….you are so worrisome this episode though really!

Running tally: It’s now morning, so it’s been another night since our opening scene. He has definitely been awake for two nights, two days, 48 hours minimum.

Okay and now it’s night, so another 12 hours: 60

“You are turning into a 170 pound fruitcake.” Trapper…couple questions

Could Radar really not know the word Holocaust OR a popular Bing Crosby carol? This always distracts me for a moment.

Hawkeye haltingly singing ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ into the quiet while crying, the dark night of the camp stretched around them, is something that can fuck me up <3

‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ was released in 1943, previous episode it was stated to be 1951, so 8 years ago. Hawkeye is presumably supposed to be in his early 30s (slightly younger than Alda himself), so we’re talking like early-/mid-20s he was lying on a rug listening to this song. And now he’s out of the med school that kept him from being drafted into WWII, and swept into another war after all.

“Dear Harry. Who’s responsible?” It's like my heart holds.

Running tally: It’s the next day. 72 hours.

HIS. HAUNTED. EYES. LOOKING UP AT THE SOUND OF CHOPPERS.

Coming back to some of M*A*S*H again no longer on a good amount of hydromorphone (hi) is, far from a more sober experience, actually at times creating a sensation not unlike my mind is shattering like a bag of frozen peas smacked against the counter

GOD Alda! Eyes!

“I like that,” he says with a little smile, draping a couple pieces of toilet paper on the latrine. “It sells.” My fucking heart.

Physical acting award to GARY BURGHOFF, panicking in place next to Trapper for a solid few seconds before running off after them

Trapper and Henry playing solitaire together while watching over Hawkeye sleeping fitfully under presumably their fave phenobarbital kills me so softly. Whole vibe something so warm and domestic and bleak and fucked up, and the lines all So much. “McIntyre, what makes him do these things?”

/

2x09 ‘Dear Dad…Three’

Hawkeye just watching Trapper & Frank play gin, grinning. The way sometimes they’re roommates like this..

“Go ahead, Cuddles, take a card.” CUDDLES, TRAPPER?

Hawkeye reciting ‘Gunga Din’ ostensibly to praise Ginger’s nursing prowess is so 1973

Not to be such a laugh track supporter, again, but this is another episode I actually think plays better WITH it, as the contrast from the goofy cards scene with the communal laughs to the strained quiet as they try to remove this grenade from a soldier’s body is just so compelling to me.

Leaving in Alan Alda casually fighting through a yawn is so so so so so good. This show is so lived in, makes it feel oddly real for all its artificial 25-minute sitcom trappings.

Henry’s video from home scene reeeaally got to me, on the hydromorphone. The way they just gradually get more rapt and quiet even as nothing is really happening in the video, it’s just normal, and that’s what’s getting to them.

Man the Indiana suburbs are wild

“I could see that all over again.” This is kinda why I love Trapper, honestly. Part of it.

Ginger acting like he’s passing is just THE FUNNIEST PART OF THIS, I laugh every time. “Good job, baby!” GINGER!

The staff meeting is simply perfect. A perfect scene of television comedy. No notes, just want to show it to everyone I know.

I mean it’s just so funny when the racist soldier literally says "You've given me a lot to think about," and still just real nice when he salutes Ginger, whatever! Sure it’s cheesy! We all know! But it’s 1970/1950! They were trying to do something!

/

2x10 ‘The Sniper’

Oho had forgot this is the one where Trapper has a mild head cold, in his goldenrod robe

“Is your cold better?” “Does a cold ever get bettah?” Trap, Icon

Alda looks notably skinny here. It’s his so shaped body… Like a plank, breadth seems normal but then you turn him sideways and it’s like oh, that is a thin flat man.

Trapper’s mocking laugh back to Frank while shoving his gun away—SO BOYFRIEND THIS EPISODE

Trapper just hollered to Hawkeye to take notes on his date. God. It really is that kind of queered heterosexuality where all their nurse pursuits are ultimately just about bonding with each other. The heterosexual in service to the homosocial.

“Eight cans, eight shots. That should be about right.” Larry Linville, I’m laughing my butt off.

I miss the Japanese ‘Happy Days Are Here Again’ cover every day of my life

Henry: “Well hell's bells, we’re a hospital! That’s against the Geneva Convention!” Radar: “I’m not for it either, sir.”

Full male rear nudity on American broadcast television, M*A*S*H truly did it all

Trapper’s already on the phone with someone when Hawkeye crawls into the office, GOD the competence. So boyfriend this episode, reprise.

Oh haven’t mentioned yet how very very cute it is that Henry’s office is papered with his daughter’s drawings she sends him. I like to imagine that it’s actually a bit of a gallery, that other members of the unit tack up some of their kid’s drawings too.

“Radar—” “Get a white flag, yes sir. [little head shake]” Gary is incredible this episode

“You could roll over first” is definitely the assault joke too far. I actually can kinda forgive the first "violations" one weirdly because of the follow-up on it later, but this one is like, Hawk come ON.

Frank just happily head-empty drawing circles on Margaret’s kneeeee :)

Oh my god Radar’s bit where he says his metabolism makes his body turn to liquid…I'm dyin'

The rhythm of this episode, this transition now to creeping outside in the dark to find Frank and THIS MUSIC. This show should have had more score honestly, I always enjoy what it brings so much.

And then bringing Frank with him to go investigate the mess tent! Yes! This script is perfectly structured, truly.

GARY SO FUNNY THIS EP OH MY GOD

God yeah and the ending, going up to treat the man who was shooting at them…too good, gotta include it.

/

2x12 ‘The Incubator’

They are so so wretched and hungover and soft, moving and speaking with each other so gently and pained, god I love these messes

Something so endearingly funny to me about Radar casually explaining “I was too sleepy” for why they didn’t use him as their virgin sacrifice last night. Like, everyone’s got a role to play in society! Sometimes you’re the camp’s temple virgin! ….Oh wow actually Radar is a vestal virgin. Being a vestal virgin is all about having arcane knowledge, so many mysterious little jobs, and an attitude. Radar, lean into this.

They actually WANT Frank to chastise them for their night, god, their relationship sometimes!!! And then they’re genuinely like aw, geee, recognizing he’s right they aren’t the bright eyed bushy tailed young doctors he met. “We’re gonna get our tails bushed again, you’ll see!”

Hawkeye is still using 'bushy tail' as a shorthand a scene later

This episode? Good. Good choice, past me. I like how it starts with the aftermath of goofy debauchery, then starts showing itself to be a mission episode, with the two off them getting more driven as they get more sober, while still holding ice packs to their foreheads to illicit our chuckles at their hungover patheticness.

“Henry the war’s been running for two years, surely the government must be showing a profit by now.” Haha damn.

Hawkeeeeyyye, he’s now taken to calling their new era simply “B.T.”, and Trapper just nods knowing what he means while Henry’s like what the hell?

Henry’s advice is to show up looking handsome. I love Henry's approach to things.

And now it becomes a Great River of Commerce story. It’s a good script!!!

Riveted by how Hawkeye’s glinting sarcasm is scanning as genuine delight in avarice to this guy, while Trapper’s straightforwardness gets him labeled as the one with “a nasty streak of morality.” Hawkeye, glancing a quick amused look at him: haha babe he thinks I’m Evil. Trapper: sighhh. u are.

The other thing that crushes in this episode is that after rocking up in full Class A uniforms at the start of their odyssey, they start gradually shedding pieces, giving them new looks for each successive stage of their quest. A reverse of the wives in Mad Max: Fury Road.

Pierce & McIntyre operating as a duo can power me for a day. They just seamlessly play to each other’s strengths. Let Hawkeye get up and get mouthy but clever, draw attention, land a few points that aren’t gonna fade so quickly, and then when they turn to Trapper, thinking he’s gonna be someone reasonable they can fall back on, he just literally stands up to join him at his shoulder like, floor back to him I think. This general, it dawning on him: “Are you two together?” Hawkeye, literally, with a loose little smile: “In all kinds of weather.”

God and now they’re just a double act, picking up each other’s sentences, laying out a wall of fact on data point on incriminating detail.

They are just so sexy this episode

‘The Incubator’: kind of a perfect little episode to be honest! A secret fave, of the kind I have. I have my actual, more flashy faves, and then I have my other ones where it’s like, you know which episode I really love?

/

2x13 ‘Deal Me Out’

Hawk & Trap hollering at Radar as he takes their towels, little nose in the air: “I’m kidding!” “He was kidding!” “You’re beautiful!” #VestalVirginBehavior

I wish Captain Sam Pak had been in 15 more episodes. The M*A*S*H judge-of-character equivalent of whether or not a dog likes you is whether or not someone moves right past Klinger wearing dresses to getting engaged with his style choices, and Sam does immediately.

It’s entertaining to me that Hawkeye loves poker while consistently having mediocre to poor luck. He’s always just casually fucking up and folding. He's not good at this! And doesn't seem to care! He's just in it for the card game gossip.

“Hi, Frank. What’s new up on the Mount?” SID-NEY.

Aw forgot this is the one with baby John Ritter, winging an enameled cup at Frank’s head

KLINGER’S SUNGLASSES. At night.

What I love about this episode is that for a story that is predominately about sitting around a table, it has SUCH movement, literally and figuratively. Everything is continuously escalating over in the hospital, AND at the game in the Swamp, as various characters are getting up from and returning to the game. Another contributor is that they just keep adding new people into the mix: we get Sidney and Sam right up front, then the old Korean man, John Ritter, FLAGG... Just a real sense that this is a whole camp of numerous people all engaged in their little things, which I always love when a show can pull off.

Wild for whenever Henry is compelled to remember he’s the commanding officer and pulls rank on someone, particularly Flagg. Except hey, Flagg’s a colonel too… Well he’s wearing captain’s bars here though, they probably hadn’t decided that yet.

“Thanks for seeing me, Sidney :)” 15 EPISODES AND A MOVIE

Was staring and staring at Sam’s insignia trying to figure out what on earth was going on here, and finally realized: he’s Korean Army. Shaking my damn head.

/

2x11’Carry On, Hawkeye’

Phantom PA guy’s voice cracking with illness—he too is susceptible to disease

Is this breathing through my ears joke a thing, or just something very odd he is saying

Hawkeye instantly delegating Margaret to replace Frank working with Sheila, and having Father Mulcahy step in to assist him: you love to see management in action

“Father, as long as we’re working together, is it alright if I call you Dad?” Stopp

Radar bringing Hawkeye coffee in an orange mug that says “HANK” (?) while he sits on the phone at Henry’s desk whimsically yet urgently trying to explain to a general that yes he’s a capable young surgeon but he’s not looking for a husband, he’s looking for help. Sorry, once again I don’t have a comment, I just love it. The mug is so "workplace"!! Just inheriting random objects!!

Radar, happy that Hawkeye is semi-letting him make him take command: “Yes, sir!” Hawkeye, drawing up: “Don’t get fresh.”

Margaret all I’M IN CHARGE, and Hawkeye just like that would be terrific in so many ways, thank you

I actually think this episode is a great blueprint for what makes Hawkeye’s sexism such an odd grey area. His quips to the nurses are almost always around their sexual availability, but that doesn’t actually preclude him from also totally trusting them as fellow medical professionals, possibly more than any other doctor in this camp. He’s confident in them, praises their good work, and above all puts them in charge of things, that’s the part that really feels outré for the 1950s. And the Army, for that matter. And he does all this while also joking that he wishes he could put his arms around them. It’s all a muddle!

I DIE. Did CBS simply not know about pegging, is that how they got this scene through. I mean it's fucking perfect.

Henry, walking in still feverish: “Well, Mr. and Mrs. 4077th.” I still don’t even know how to unpack this, just that god, it needs to be. THEY’RE A NARRATIVE PAIR. The prom king & queen of the MASH unit. Mr. and Mrs. 4077th.

Trapper wants to help him so bad. Also wants him to kiss his forehead in the middle of post-op. Trapper honey you are so under the weather.

GODDD I love Hawkeye & Margaret, these two!!!! This is where it started babyyy. His little goofy forlorn face looking up at her as she sticks the thermometer in his mouth, her little warmed dancing quirk of a smile when he says he wants to get well to tease her all over again, this literal expression :)). Themmm!

Hawkeye: “Radar, you’ll be assisting Margaret Houlihan, nurse, friend, and all-around good egg.” Radar and Margaret: Margaret, gently: “He’s very sick.” [softly] help!

“Okay gang. Ours is not to question why…” Ohhh. “Ours is not to let ‘em die.” But he doesn’t finish it here. He’s too sick, he just trails off as he works, and we don’t get the end of it until the start of Season 4.

His little sweet squinted up grin, “That really hits me where I live, thanks!” Haha help!

Radar trying to take his pulse and realizing he doesn’t have a watch to count byyy

Listen if it wasn’t obvious I adore this one

/

2x24 ‘A Smattering of Intelligence’

This opening bit with Margaret is such peak Hawkeye. I can hardly explain. Quipping to a patient to get better before the movie that night, the horrible outfit, the flirting that is just all self-deprecating or offering her use of his hands.

Margaret: [rips Flagg’s sleeve off] “Oh.” Hawkeye: “You thought about going into burlesque, Colonel?”

Flagg is currently presenting as only a Lieutenant Colonel. FYI. Even rank with Henry.

“He’s a CPA.” I laughed way more than I should have at this.

I thought I was going to be able to handle Hawkeye in shorts, but now he’s sitting like a weirdo in the Swamp and I’m not, I’m not able to handle it.

“Captain Stone.” “That’s not my real name.” “Ohh boy.” Henry is already so tired.

Henry: “Why do we have to be in the middle? Can’t you let my people go?”

He’s lounging again. With his boots and his bare knees.

He also has an entire pocket of these Q-tips he’s been chewing on this episode. What’s up, baby.

A lot of screen-cap-worthy shots in this episode. You've probably already seen some of them. That's because people are making good choices.

Okay but spy Radar is so choice though. He's perfect.

“Fellas, it’s been both a privilege and a nightmare meeting you.” I gotta start saying this.

/

2x20 ‘As You Were’

What I like about the one where everyone’s going stir-crazy is the physicality with which they’re rendering this mental state. Hawkeye just crossed the mess tent to Frank predominantly on top of the benches, stretched out practically full length on his elbow next to him to ask what he’s doing, then clambered back to Trapper along the bench tops again. Just very good.

Ohhhhhh my god, I forgot this was the one where Trapper & Hawkeye put Frank in a box. Watching and waiting as Radar plays the morning ‘Reveille’, drinking coffee in their robes….

Klinger’s red outfit is fire lbr

They make Henry deliver just so many sex lectures

Gary’s perfect delivery of that VD line is what makes this whole scene worth it

The amount of Klinger outfits we get this episode! And they’re always complimenting him!

Margareeetttt like yes, yes of course Frank, they’re horrible, but also oh my god the thing you WANT them to do is operate on you

They’re soooo impossible <33 swooping into the operating room with their gloved sterile hands up, still doing this whole comedy routine <3 Frank is SUFFERING

“He’s an idiot, but he’s really stacked.” Trapper Why

I really do love this episode. It’s made in the transition to the second half being all surgery.

Henry: “Organize some donors, Father, get plenty of blood.” Trapper: “Yeah you’ve just been promoted to vampire.” Hawkeye: “Turn in your cross.”

Fourth Klinger outfit, and it’s fabulous. In case he gets dizzy giving blood he “brought a pair of low heels.” I love him.

Gary’s impression of “a major” on the phone is Quite good. Fun to be reminded that he’s a talented impressionist.

Oh okay, Radar canonically 19. Wait what was that Karl Urban Bones meme, like oh great Jim, he’s 19.

“Fred? Do you think the principal saw us?” Frank what

This episode has an incredible amount of gay quips. OH GOD is that what that was earlier about Fred??!

Aw wow, when the newborn baby cries and they all look up from the wounds they’re working on

Fifth Klinger outfit. Doozy of an ep.

/

2x22 ‘George’

Trapper singing most if not all of ‘I’ve Got You Under My Skin’ in surgery

Hawkeye, all worn out: “I hate sunrise. And those damn birds will start singing in a minute. Who are they to remind us of happiness?” Nurse: “We go back on again in an hour.” Hawkeye: “Amazing.” Nurse: “The sunrise?” Hawkeye: “The O.R. The amount of punishment the human body can take and still survive.” Trapper: “The doctors or the patients?” Hawkeye: “Which are we?” Wow okay Stoppard M*A*S*H (♥)

Someone’s gotta explain this “It only happens when I go tourist” line to me, as it’s ostensibly the reason why Private Weston knows he can come out to Hawkeye and what on EARTH does that mean!

JESUS CHRIST THE “I LIKE MINE THROUGH THE BOOT” JOKE WAS IN ‘GEORGE’??!!

Hawkeye: “What’s your rush, the war will still be there. Its options have been picked up for another year.” Lordy. M*A*S*H walked so Arrested Development could run honestly.

LOVE the way George comes out by the way. Little obvious logic puzzle, and Hawkeye perfectly playing along.

The entire pick-up football game tackling Father Mulcahy upstage makes me laugh so, so much

Oh god yeah—shots checkers

Wild that they are getting very very drunk playing shots checkers to try to talk about how this soldier has come out to Hawkeye and now what do they do

Wiiiild how many exhausted gay ass looks Hawley keeps giving to Trapper as Frank shares his ~information~

Love that Trapper is construing of homosexual behavior as just an expression of “individuality.” That so figures for him. God what a man.

Hawkeye: “How can you kick this little puppy of a person?” The puppy is Radar.

“Frank, why are you telling me this? Has the man made a pass at you? At me, at anyone?” I love Henry Blake. “Well you just never know, do you?” I am convinced sometimes he does. I am convinced Henry Blake knows far more about some of his officers in some regards than Potter ever did, and is just peaceably pretending he has no idea so that he’s got plausible deniability to keep not doing anything about it. Which is what makes it so annoying that Frank is talking to him about this right now.

It really is stunning that in the episode with the canon queer character & associated fall-out they are not remotely stopping doing things like Hawkeye stepping in for this nurse and stroking his hand until Henry asks if they can skip past the manicure

“a noncommittal goodbye leer”

Oho, Trapper canonically 6’3”. Damn Hawk your boyfriends are all so tall

Goddd bless Larry Linville for somehow making “Trap” sound like the most awkward terrible thing coming out of his mouth

“Trapper John McHypocrite” and asking him to look you in the eye could be a BIT much for the specifics of Weston’s situation, Hawkeye! Let’s reel around, let’s pivot!

The saucy no-hetero rewrite of this final button is too easy, and at least they gave us that.

/

2x21 ‘Crisis’

Father Mulcahy looks so cute in his jacket. He’s got his collar flipped up against the wind. Philadelphia <3

“Morning, Father. Take a pew.” Cute

Pierce, stop flirting with the priest

Very surprising that Alda is the least bundled up in this scene, how'd this happen

Trapper commenting that he’s gotta write this Frankism down and then actually doing it and sticking the note in his shirt pocket—my guy

Very foolish to put Hawkeye on maintenance & general services

Henry: “Now Radar will be the Housing Officer. Before this is over, we may have to double up or triple up to save heat. Radar will decide who sleeps with who.” Trapper: “Radar, I’d like to see you right after the meeting.” It’s such a funny line reading, and then he ends up cozy in adjoined cots with Hawkeye and it’s even better.

Oooo is this the debut of Klinger’s fur coat!

I love when the couples face off

Trapper, holding an unlit flashlight on Frank as he tries to move for the hot plate: “I’ve got you covered.”

Frank: “Ohh, you!” Together: “We are Not.” I’m gonna murder them

All them piling in shivering to the Swamp fills my heart with, incongruously, warmth. This is when the show really started to family them. The addition of Father Mulcahy and Corporal Klinger is key to this.

Klinger: “I’ve never slept in an officer’s tent before.” Hawkeye: “We’ll try to be kind.” Oh my god

Second appearance of Radar’s homemade surgical gauze & headphones earmuffs, BLESS

Love Klinger practicing skincare

“Power boss,” fun. Trapper really does take to being responsible for something so well. He likes a task.

I’ll never be over Trapper & Hawkeye essentially in a double bed under Frank sideways in a hammock. This was such wonderful blocking. “Frank, stop swinging.”

“Father, it’s cold out there—you want my stole?” “Oh, thank you my son!” Meanwhile, the boys are scrabbling around with Frank’s feet trying to steal his socks. Larry: “Noooo!” Obsessed with this episode

Haha it actually does kinda feel like a season finale the way it ends on the visual of Henry’s office now entirely empty. Thanks for validating my order choices, M*A*S*H!

*****

Viewguides (selected episodes for each season; M*A*S*H reduced like a gravy)

Misc. MASH (formless notes from my watches)

#M*A*S*H hours (all this & More)

#ha ha indulgent #Misc. MASH #M*A*S*H hours #M*A*S*H #Tarra takes notes

[reefer-reelz-n-reviews]

Alice (2009)

Smoking: Neil Bongstrong

So, this technically isn’t a movie, but a tv mini Series and definitely one of my favorites. We follow Caterina Scorsone, Alice, as she travels to… you guessed it! Wonderland.

My husband and I are currently watching Law and Order SVU, and there is a new ADA played by Philip Winchester who is Jack Chase in this series. So, I’ve been itching to watch it every time we see him pop up on the screen.

This week’s is a little bit harder. I have a poor sick kitten who is demanding love and attention so having double duty.

We basically have all of the characters from the original in here. There is the white rabbit, played by Alan Gray. He isn’t really a rabbit just a man that is running from CS and his hair is long and in two low pony tails that look as if they are his ears.

CS goes through the looking glass into almost half a world. It is floating and boy is it a long way down if you fall. I like to think of this as more of a modern-day Alice, where she is smarter 😂 By smarter I mean she doesn’t take the bate to drink the vile, but still gets captured. Also, not a blonde but brunette. Maybe that’s why she is smarter 🤣 don’t take offense if you’re blonde please, just making a joke.

The first time I watched it was with my friend Rachel and I was soooo baked! There is a scene where people are almost like at the stock market yelling out numbers to purchase emotions. The first time I watched it I thought they were all whispering. Almost like they were in a bubble. Totally not what happens 😂

This happens at the Tea House. And guess who runs it? None other than Hatter, played by Andrew Lee Potts. I’ve been in love with him ever since I’ve watched it 😍

There is even a larger gentleman, Dave ‘Squatch’ Ward that plays the Walrus. Though he is more of an enforcer if you will.

In this adaptation The Queen of Hearts, played by THE Kathy Bates, is married to of course the King of Hearts, Colm Meaney.

Not only do we have KB in here. But the magnificent Tim Curry!! He plays Dodo. He isn’t in too much of the series. But just having him in it is enough for me 😄

KB still likes to take the heads of those who oppose her.

I love how ALP gets shot by TC and he acts like he’s all super hurt and CS is all concerned just to find out that he is wearing a bullet proof vest.

What did I say about it being a long way down? There is the March Hair looking for CS. Though he is called Mad March in this. He straight up threw a guy off of the edge and you just hear him scream allllll the way down.

There is even a Jabberwock! It looks nothing like the one from the one from Tim Burton’s Alice. It actually looks a little derpy 😂

My favorite character is the White Knight, played by Matt Frewer. He is goofy, does a lot of synonyms. Or as I pronounce them cinnamons lolololol. He also apparently does toe nail readings 🤔 whatever that means.

Another similarity is that there is the same cat, Dinah, that surprise CS follows in the forest. Though she turns into the Cheshire Cat.

The part with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum is played by Eugene Lipinski, and he’s some kind of mind doctor where they try to find out information form CS. There are some trippy backgrounds that are almost like a hypnosis.

Love when ALP and MF are trying to sneak in to the Casino and ALP has this hat trick 🤣 wish I was that cool.

There is a different kind of flamingo. They don’t play croquet, more of fly on them. Watching them on it makes me think of “Choking the Chicken” 😂☠️

How trippy is it to make a reality extend when you enter it from another door. Press of a button, boom the rest of the roof of a building, plus the remaining part of the decaying world.

Definitely a good thing that SC was doing Karate in the real world. Helps her to be able to escape. Then she takes a flamingo through the forest almost like she’s racing on Endor with Leia 🤣

It would be so weird to sit in a room full of eyeballs just staring at you. And way to have terrible hiding skills. Literally they hid behind a pillar but there were people coming form the left. They so would have seen them 🙄

Alice of course brings down the house and wins. She set Wonderland free from the evil queen of hearts.

Thanks for reading!

Toke on! 😶‍🌫️

-RRR

#caterina scorsone #philip winchester #alan gray #andrew lee potts #dave 'sasquach' ward #kathy bates #colum meaney #tim curry #matt frewer #Eugene Lipinski

[garbage-connoisseur]

I just finished watching Wes Craven's Swamp Thing from 1982. Important to note is that this movie predates Alan Moore's run of the comics, so it is based exclusively on the earlier, slightly goofier stories. Swamp Thing is almost exactly divided into two halves, both which are enjoyable in wildly different ways. The first half has a lot of beautiful swamp shots, and focuses on establishing characters and stakes. We follow newly arrived Alice Cable (Adrienne Barbeau) at a research station in the middle of a swamp, which we are told is filled with gators and other dangers. Multiple people have either gone missing or are deserting the place, which seems to be performing some secret government-funded scientific experiments. We also get a very fun scene of a group of camouflaged mercenaries ambushing someone in the swamp. One of the mercenaries turns out to be carrying around a venomous snake in his pants, and as he pulls it said trouser snake he wields it like a weapon, making it bite and kill the ambushed man.

The jokes write themselves. We eventually learn that the research is being done by Alec Holland, a character that I would swear was inspired by Jeff Goldblum's sexy Seth Brundle scientist man, if this movie hadn't been released four years earlier than The Fly. As it stands, Alec really wants us to know how sexy the swamp is, setting up for his eventual transportation into a sexy plant man shortly after.

You see, Alec is researching ways to make the plants of the far future of 2004 be resilient enough to grow in hitherto uncultivated climates, which he plans to achieve by injecting an animal nucleus into vegetable cells, thereby imbuing them with the fighting spirit of animals somehow. This feels wrong, but I am not well-versed enough in biology to dispute it.

Either way, Alec briefly turns into Herbert West: Plant Re-Animator after his glow-in-the-dark solution turns out to be a success, once again in a nod to a movie that would only come out three years later, somehow.

At this point characters and stakes have been establishes, so the mercenaries storm the research station, killing everyone but Cable, and dousing Alec with his solution while also setting him on fair, and demonstrating how badly equipped the lab is, without any kind of safety lab shower.

It is at this point that the movie drastically shifts tone, as it turns out that the main antagonist is modelled after the cartoonishly villanous Lex Luther of the Superman movies, and suddenly the movie becomes all about the mysterious Swamp Thing (who could it be??) fist-fighting the military while the self-declared super genius villain attempts to get his hands on the MacGuffin to grant him immortality.

Meanwhile the movie also starts getting things ready for the inevitable supernatural romance subplot as we and Cable learn that the Swamp Thing has a heart of gold beneath its rubbery exterior.

It gets really dumb as the fairly goofy looking Swamp Thing rubber costume gets much too much screen-time for this to still be a horror movie, and a few other silly costumes get added to the mix.

Definitely give this one a watch if you get the chance.

#swamp thing #gif #wes craven #horror film #80s horror #horror movies #cult movies #comic book movies #swampcore #swamp creature #supernatural romance #trouser snake #sci-fi botany

[w3sther]

CHARACTER PROFILE:    JENNY KIRK

LEGAL NAME:    Janet Eileen Kirk

NICKNAME(S):    Most everybody calls her  Jenny  -  ‘cept for Sean, sometimes he’ll call her  Queen o’ Scots,  though she ain’t never been to Scotland. She probably  should  be Mrs. Blair, but she’s half sure that marriage weren’t legal. 

AGE:    19

DATE OF BIRTH:    June 1st, 1880

PLACE OF BIRTH:    Tumbleweed, out in New Austin

DATE OF DEATH:    May 1899

SEXUAL ORIENTATION:    Heterosexual

PRONOUNS:    She/Her

EDUCATION:    Nothing but what her Pa taught her. She can read a little and write a little, though neither without any kind of flourish. 

RELIGION:    She knows her Bible, if that’s what you mean. It was one of the only books they really had up there for her to read out of.

LANGUAGE(S):    English

PROFESSION:    She and her Pa used to have a farm up in the mountains, but that’s all over now. She joined up with Dutch Van Der Linde’s gang after they found her on the side of the road.

FAMILY:    John  “ Johnny ”  Alan    ( father, deceased ),  Eileen Kirk  ( mother, deceased )

SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S):    None.

APPEARANCE:    Tan skin, with a dusting of freckles across her nose. She has curly black hair, often pinned up and out of her face half a way. No one would ever say she wasn’t a pretty girl, for sure.

FACECLAIM:    Jessica Sula

                                                            -

ABOUT.

      Born to a free black man and a Scottish saloon girl, Jenny’s first couple years were spent in the care of a local church.    Saloons were no place for babies, after all, and nobody knew where her pa’d gotten to at the time. Unbeknownst to anyone, Johnny Kirk was out getting his fortune. He’d made a promise to her mother that he’d get himself some land where they could make a life for each other, he just needed to scrape together enough savings. By the time he made it back for her, though, she was gone and Jenny was nearly four years old. 

      Even so, he had land, and he was going to do the right think. He took her with him, and the pair of them settled out on a plot of land he’d gotten. He raised a few sheep there, and even got a chicken coop for Jenny to tend to herself. He knew his letters and taught her, and every month they’d go into town, the two of them, to sell what sheep they had. Jenny’d moon over all the pretty ladies, beg her father for a dress, nick a piece of a candy -  and then they’d go. It was a sweet little life they had going, if a bit dull.

      Then one day her Pa got sick. Then he just  -  didn’t get up in the morning, after coughing near all through the night. And she was all alone.

      Being alone wasn’t so bad, at first. She had him buried right with a funeral and everything. She sold the sheep and kept up her chickens and the little garden, out front. Every so often someone would come through and she’d let ‘em water their horses, and that’d be fine. And a man by the name of Bert Blair came through  -  one of those dashing cowboy types. She invited him for dinner, then for a coffee.

      They were married within the week. He convinced her to sell the land, even her chickens. They’d live the high life in St. Denis, she’d see. They rode out together one night, meaning to sleep rough to save some of the cash for a nice hotel. She woke in the morning to find him gone, along with all the money  and  the horses. He didn’t even leave a note! 

      Unable to do anything but continue down the road, she did just that. She had a bit of water, but that was all, and was half-starved and a little sickly when a couple members of Dutch Van Der Linde’s gang found her. Bitter and untrusting from her experience, she was slow to come around, but found her place within the gang well enough. She hasn’t heard anything more from Blair, but intends to get her money back one way or another. 

                                                           -

VERSES.

PRE - CANON:    Set during Jenny’s six-ish months with the gang, she’s growing to trust them, but is slow to do so. 

RDR2 AU:    Jenny survives the Blackwater Massacre but is gravely injured for the duration of the Colter chapter, mostly bedridden thanks to being shot in the gut and shoulder. By the time they reach Chapter 2, she’s well enough to go into town and find some work  -  mostly stealing here and there. She ends up leaving with Tilly and can later be found performing as a singer in Saint Denis.

#JENNY.

[cpblaylock-blog]

Thank the Ones Who Got You There

I have had my fair share of coaches and mentors in life and probably still have one or two that will emerge as I move past mid-life. Recently, I learned that one of my coaches will be inducted into the Furman University Athletic Hall of Fame which prompted me to reflect on all of the coaches I was fortunate enough to have and what life lesson I took away from my time with them.

I did not begin playing golf until the age of 13. Prior to that, I played anything and everything my mother could sign me up for and get to for practice. Little league boys baseball, YMCA swim team, gymnastics you name it, I played it. As I got older, my father felt I needed to focus on more feminine pursuits so I stopped playing baseball and picked up tennis and golf. It didn’t take much for me to be hooked because I just loved smashing the ball. There was absolutely zero finesse in my game but I knew enough to make me want to get better. My first lesson was with Alan Pinson, an assistant professional at Coosa Country Club at the time. When I hit the 1st ball, Alan’s eyes lit up and he said “oh boy. Not sure I’ve seen a teenage girl hit a ball quite like that”. For the next 5 years, I continued to take lessons with and work for Alan. Late afternoon rounds, junior tournaments, washing golf carts, and picking up range balls were fantastic opportunities for him to dispense advice about golf, boys, school and my future. His advice was always laced with laughter and love making it easy to me want to be there. Fast forward 15 years and I had played in every professional major on both the European Tour and LPGA, 4 NCAA National Championships and various other “pressure cooker” tournaments and I can tell you the game is the same as it was at age 14 and his advice still applicable. Alan taught me to be authentic, laugh at your bad shots, be grateful for the good ones and always keep perspective of what is important. Alan has an infectious laugh and wonderful sense of humor; understanding what golf is for people and that it can provide the basis for lifelong friendships and good times.

Being a 5-sport athlete in high-school, I could list quite a few coaches but there is one who was so much more than a coach for me as an insecure adolescent female athlete. David Rhodes was my high school basketball and golf coach for all 4 years. From him, I learned many valuable lessons but most importantly David taught me that father’s don’t have to be biological, that a man of faith can be remarkably powerful in the lives of all of those around him and that compassion is one of God’s greatest blessing. For me, Coach Rhodes provided a safe space and refuge at a time when I was terrified of peer pressure, boys, and not being feminine. In the late 1980’s, to be a competitive successful female athlete brought certain stereotypes that were tough to deal with at 14 years old. They do not bother me now because I have had a lifetime of experience to know that stereotypes are tools of the inferior and those who lack depth. My youngest son is named after David and I can only hope that he grows into the kind, compassionate, man of faith that was such a blessing to me when I needed it most.

Let’s just establish that I am competitive, regardless of the circumstance or sport. I absolutely hate to lose and will endeavor to practice anything until I am the best or at least I feel I have reached my potential. At Furman University, I found a coach who totally understood how to motivate me beyond my own expectation. Mic Potter recruited athletes and made no bones about being able to “turn them into great players”. This was definitely the case with me as I completed my freshman year with a scoring average in the low 80’s, less than acceptable. At the All-American banquet at the NCAA National Championship at Arizona State my freshman year, the lightbulb went off. “Mic, why are these people being recognized? What do you have to do to get up there?” Mic’s response was direct and on point - “these are the best of the best, the All-Americans”. I got it and for the next three years, Mic guided and directed me to a path of being a 3-time All American, collegiate tournament wins and a career in professional golf for the next 10. What I took away from my time with Mic is something I remind myself of quite frequently, be your own motivation, work harder than anyone else, and enjoy the results of your effort. My professional career path would have been drastically different had it not been for Mic and I am only 1 of hundreds of women who can say that about such an incredible man and coach.

If you find yourself in the role of coach, teacher, mentor or leader of young people remember, the impact you make during this period in your student-athletes’ lives may not be visible until they are almost 50. I only regret not having the appreciation and perspective I have now during the times I worked with these men but I sure hope they know I cherish the time and lessons I had with each of them.

#coach #mentor #golf #lpga

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Hello Beautiful! Can I get a Sammy Guevara and Alan Angels headcannon based off this photo? Maybe have it be in the gym or training. Everything else it up to you ❤️

Hello gorgeous 💕 Of course, love! And oh, this will be interesting 😏

@theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @wrestlersownmyheart , @new-zealand-chic , @thealliasylum , @aerynscrichton , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @ava-valerie , @sophiewolfheart-blog

You were entering the locker room area after your workout

Ferociously tipping on your phone

And you were so focused on your task

That you didn’t even noticed that you had entered the male locker room

You thought that something was wrong

When you heard two familiar voices speaking

“Did you see her outfit today?” Alan whistled

“Fuck me, man” Sammy groaned “She was so hot”

“I love when she wears grey leggings” He continued while taking his shirt off

You peaked your head inside the area where the sinks were so you could have a better view of them

But being careful enough so that they don’t see you

“I know” Alan moaned “I swear bro, when I saw her walking in, all my blood shot straight down to my cock and I wanted to just push her down on her knees and make her suck me hard”

From where you stood, you could see Alan taking a handful of his semi hard cock

And you instantly closed your legs in order to have some kind of friction

“Shit” Sammy smirked “While she sucks you, I would fuck her from behind” Sammy closed his eyes and began to thrust his hips

“I would pull her hair back so I could watch her pretty little mouth full of cock” He began to move his hips faster

“Getting ruined” Alan growled “Fuck, I bet she would beg for it”

“And I bet that beneath that sweet little angel face she has, she’s a filthy little slut” Sammy grinned

“So filthy, with cum dripping down her chin” Alan licked his lips

“Makeup ruined and nipples so sensitive from all the twisting, pinching and pulling” Sammy pulled his shorts down and you could see the perfect outline of his hard cock inside his white boxer briefs

“You enjoy being our little fuck doll, don’t you? Yeah, we know you do, because we can see how you moan and spread your wholes to us while begging for cum” Alan grinned

You slid your hand inside your leggings

Ready to give yourself some relief

When you suddenly knocked one of the heavy trash cans down on the floor

“Hello?” Sammy called

And before someone could catch you

You sneaked out of the locker room and ran towards the parking lot

Before anyone noticed the wet spot on your pants

#sammy guevara fanfiction #sammy guevara x reader #sammy guevara imagine #sammy guevara #alan 5 angels imagine #alan 5 angels #masochist headcanons #masochist writes #ask #answered ask #thanks for the ask!

[gumnut-logic]

The Mine (Part 8)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 - Bit 1 & Bit 2 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Here is tonight’s part. This writing every evening thing seems to be working :D

As always, many thanks to @katblu42​ for the readthrough and advice and answering all my manic questions :D

I continue to be surprised and very grateful for all the wonderful support you guys are giving me ::hugs you all tight::

Let’s visit the frantic brothers upstairs :D I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

I was taken in by the Tracys when I was eight. Young, hurting and frightened.

They have never shown me anything but love and kindness. Even when I struck out in fear.

The name Kayo didn’t come into existence without bruises, you know.

Mr Tracy and his five sons did more for me and my family than anyone alive.

And in turn they suffered so much.

I hate my uncle with the power of suns. For all he has done and all he has hurt.

He can burn in hell.

But the Tracys run by a different moral code. Scott has saved the man! They radiate a goodness of which I honestly don’t think I’m capable.

I’m far from Tracy no matter how I try.

But that is to my advantage. Because I can rescue them from themselves.

From a world that doesn’t deserve them.

Or die trying.

Of course, that assumed they didn’t do something stupid like sacrifice themselves in a mine for the family motto.

“I’m sorry, John, it’s not working.” I swore and stamped my foot on Shadow’s cockpit floor, immediately regretting it. It wasn’t her fault. She could only do what she could.

“Brains, is on his way out. We will identify the cause eventually. In the meantime, I need you and Alan to find a physical work around.”

“FAB.” I sighed and killed off comms. John’s voice was strained. More strained than I’d heard in a long time. He needed to come down after this. Movie night or some other family activity to detox the day.

Once they’d found the rest of the family.

I disengaged Shadow’s claws and shot her up into the air enough to pivot into her landing sequence beside her hulking sister.

Climbing out, I was, as always, struck at how small she was next to Virgil’s ‘bird.

I ignored it. I had more important things to do.

Boarding her, I made my way down to the medbay. And found, as expected, two arguing brothers.

Gordon was at least in bed, but it obviously wasn’t voluntarily as Alan was furious beside him. “You are staying here! Do you want to help or hamper? Because continuing to climb out of bed is stopping me from being able to do anything to help our brothers because I need to attend to you! Do I make myself clear?!”

I froze in the doorway. Wow. Go Allie.

Gordon looked awful – pale and wan, obviously in pain, possibly drugged, definitely not thinking straight.

Alan was red in the face and frantic to impress his right to order his brother to bed.

John had obviously been distracted with the sensor attempts we had been tackling, otherwise a sharp word from orbit would have ended this already.

A sharp word from me was capable of doing something similar.

But I didn’t contact Five or say a thing. I just stood there and watched.

“Am I clear?!”

Gordon was staring at his brother, eyes a little wide. “Uh, yeah.”

“Good!”

Alan deflated a little where he was standing.

“Gentleman?”

Both of them flinched, but at least Alan straightened, a little spine in him as his expression dared me to contradict him.

Good for you, Allie.

I shifted where I stood, placing my weight on my left foot. “Sensor attempts were all failures. We need another plan.”

Gordon caught my eye. “As I was trying to tell Bed Guardian here, Virg used the comms snake when I was incommunicado in that stupid pyramid temple. Assuming Virgil repaired it, and he would have, it should be here on Two. We could give that a try.”

Alan glared at him. “You weren’t telling, you were attempting to show, and fall on your face in the process.” He turned his back on his brother to cut off the building protest. “Kayo-“

But he was cut off by an urgent call from Five. “Guys, One and Two are picking up seismic disturbances in the mine.”

Alan startled. “There is earth movement? Another explosion?!”

“Possibly, though not as powerful as the last one.” A hologram flickered up showing the map they had of the mine. Overlaid were the sketched out verbal directions from the miner they had rescued, and a lone green dot where they estimated their injured brother lay. “By triangulation, the new disturbance is approximately here.” A bubble appeared just above Virgil in the diagram.

God, no.

“What are you saying, John? Where is Scott?” Alan’s voice was tight, as if it was the only thing holding him together.

“I’m saying that the situation has changed, possibly for the worse.”

Alan shifted where he stood, his eyes, blue ice. “We need to make contact with Thunderbirds One and Two.” Those eyes caught mine and I shivered. “Now.”

We both dashed out the door.

-o-o-o-

 Part 9

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #kayo kyrano #Alan Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #nuttyfic

[teawaffles]

Forbidden Games: Chapter 7

One day, three assassins had gathered for a gunfight.

The three of them had varying levels of skill with a gun. The first assassin had perfect aim. The second could land two shots in three. The last was only able to land one shot in three.

They were to take turns choosing one of the other two to shoot at. In order to compensate for their differences in skill level, they would start from the most inexperienced assassin, who could only land one shot in three.

Now if you were this person, what would you consider the most reasonable thing to do?

The right answer is—— to fire straight into the air, without aiming at either opponent.

Ordinarily, one would think to target the most dangerous assassin, who could land every shot. But if they were struck down, then on the next turn, you would find yourself in the sights of the remaining opponent, who could land two shots in three.

As such, if you were to avoid shooting either party, the next player would definitely target the most dangerous opponent. If they succeed, the subsequent turn would cycle back to you. Hence the best course of action is to shoot no one at the start.

An action that seems meaningless at first glance, may in truth be the most logical choice.

This was a paradox —— the gap between logic and intuition.

“While there are some slight differences, our game bears a striking resemblance to this story, which is why I chose to apply it today. Although, I admit I may have been a bit too dramatic when aiming the gun at myself.”

A contradiction for a contradiction. Saying that, a small smile rose on William’s face. It was the smile of a demon.

For a moment, the extent to which he’d misjudged William had made Alan break out in a cold sweat. But he quickly regained his composure.

“I get it — you’re smart enough to know what you’re doing. But now, what will you do? The chance that your gun will fire in this turn is two-in-five. As for me, with one bullet fired and two left, my chances are the same. We’re even now.”

“But that’s not true. I believe you know very well that on your next turn, your gun will fire,” William asserted.

“……What?”

William brushed his thumb over the revolver in his hand.

“It appears that the guns we were given have been rigged, such that the cylinders will stop at predetermined positions when they are spun. These positions have been marked with scratches. In other words, this game has been a lie from the very beginning.”

William looked at Alan, who was in a daze, as he continued.

“That’s why you were able to add two more bullets to your gun with no hesitation whatsoever. You knew that even if Mr Holmes were to face off with five rounds, the gun would never fire.”

He then struck his index finger against the table.

Alan had been thoroughly shocked when the secret behind the guns was revealed. But now, he retaliated in full force.

“That’s right. These guns are for cheats. Why wouldn’t I use them in this game? Counting from the chamber where the cylinder stops, my revolver has three consecutive chambers loaded. But only the last two chambers of your gun are filled. ——Do you get it? This means your gun will not fire this turn, and on my turn, mine will definitely fire. The game has already been decided.”

“I’ll throw that question back to you. Do you understand what it means for us to know about this trick?”

Somewhat stunned by his opponent’s lack of awareness, William proceeded to explain the situation with eloquence.

“In our previous match, I said something to Mr Holmes. ‘Allow me to advance a proposition. Two chambers— don’t fill them.’”

There was another meaning behind those awkward words. “What it meant was, ‘Advance by two chambers’. After that, Mr Holmes violently loaded the gun —— so much so, that he had scratched the cylinder too.”

Alan covered his mouth with his hand as he looked at his own gun.

“……No way—”

“Because the two of us were given new revolvers, and you chose to use the gun from our previous match, you are now holding a revolver with two chambers’ worth of scratch marks added. Although the previous scratches remained…… since it was Mr Holmes who made them, I trust that the new markings were able to fool your accomplices.”

With no need for any further explanation, William fell silent.

In a game of Russian roulette where the number of rounds loaded increases over time, Sherlock had unexpectedly done something rash.

Alan had taken his sudden change in attitude to be mere desperation. But in reality, Sherlock had received William’s message, and while maintaining his composure, he proceeded to act as if he had no regard for his own life. By doing so, his violence in loading the gun, as well as his choice to fill the cylinder to its upper limit, were all interpreted as the products of a meltdown — and they were able to avoid any suspicion that they had seen through his trick.

However, this method of using Alan’s own trick against him was not foolproof. Although they had added new scratches to the cylinder, the original marks still remained. On close inspection, it might be possible to distinguish them.

With that in mind, Alan turned to face his accomplices behind him. But they said nothing, perhaps out of confusion. They had no confidence that they’d loaded the bullets in the right chambers. A sense of unease began to swell within Alan.

If Sherlock’s trap had succeeded, the positions of the bullets in Alan’s gun would now be off.

His revolver had six chambers. Counting from where the cylinder would stop, the first three chambers were supposed to be filled. Now with the markings “shifted” two positions forward, it would be that the first, and last two chambers were filled instead.

Since one round had already been fired, only the other two bullets remained. He was essentially in the same situation as William. In that case, as William had the first move, he would be able to fire on Alan one turn earlier.

In short, in this perverse version of Russian roulette, Alan had employed rigged revolvers, his accomplices had mistaken the positions of the scratch marks, and William had elected to go first. With these three conditions in place, William’s victory had been secured.

“What kind of joke is this……”

From the start, the game’s outcome had been set in stone.

That had originally been Alan’s plan. But William took advantage of it and turned the tables on him.

Despite being in a position of absolute superiority, victory had escaped him a second time. Alan’s blood was boiling.

“A—Again! I will surely win if we play again!”

William put his revolver down, and shook his head in pity.

“Unfortunately, there will be no rematch. Both of us no longer have the time to humour someone like you,” he replied curtly.

Alan lost his patience and slammed the table.

“Do you look down on everyone, you brat?!”

“All you do is envy others, and that is why you have lost yourself,” William said, with the air of an educator.

Before Alan could make sense of that, the sound of a revolver’s hammer being cocked emanated from the floor.

“——Don’t move.”

Then, the fallen detective staggered to his feet. Even though he had been shot in the abdomen, his face betrayed no trace of pain, instead wearing the grin of a child whose mischief had succeeded. In his hand, was a fully-loaded revolver.

“Holmes, why you bastard—”

“I don’t feel like explaining myself right now. Anyway, all of you raise your hands like grown men,” Sherlock ordered sharply, amidst their confusion.

Perhaps they were caught completely off guard, but Alan’s accomplices put up no struggle as they timidly raised both hands. The young man who had been held hostage edged quietly away from them.

William rose from his seat in a leisurely manner.

“From the start, our goal was to create this exact scenario. You have no intention of giving up no matter how many times your opponent wins. In that case, we should overturn the entire stage. To that end, this game, which allowed Mr Holmes to be eliminated by faking his death, presented the perfect opportunity.”

Just as William had planned, his act of near-suicide right from the outset had thrown them off balance, such that no one paid any notice to the fallen Sherlock. Then Sherlock came back to life with perfect timing, providing the key to their counterattack.

With their plan a roaring success, William and Sherlock were brimming with satisfaction.

“You two……”

Alan glared at them with hateful eyes.

“Oh, you’re not going admit defeat at this stage, aren’t you? That might actually be a good idea. Since all of you outnumber us, if you all take your guns out right now, you could certainly kill us. But Mr Holmes is sure to take a few of you down with him too. Is anyone prepared to be one of those ‘few’?”

“Now this is a genuinely fair and exciting challenge. Come on, who wants to join the game?”

Against the two of them, who were proudly putting their lives on the line, not a single person made a move.

In the end, the ‘equality’ that Alan and his accomplices had put forward, was nothing more than a hollow notion bragged about from within their circle of safety.

Having truly fought for his life and come out standing, to these men, William directed a gentle smile.

“Since it seems no one wishes to participate, ——this is game over.”

T/N: You may have noticed that the explanations of the trick are somewhat awkward (haha). It wasn’t explained 100% clearly in the Japanese text — I took a while to get it myself — so I decided to drop more hints within the text, rather than do so in a footnote. I hope it made sense for you!

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games #illustration insert