#Jesus how many versions of his man’s name is there
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draw joel as adam from hazbin hotel preety pleaseee
HE IS HIM
#mcyt#hermitcraft#starsaysgarbage#hermitblr#art#my art#asks!#joel smallishbeans fanart#smallishbeans fanart#joel smallishbeans#smallishbeans#Jesus how many versions of his man’s name is there#just two?#okay#hazbin hotel au#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel adam#I’m done
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would you actually be willing to give like a pretty long rundown of those main guys from the 2015 draft class?? because i would be Very interested
Of course! I wrote this in a Google doc so I could get it all down. It's a LOT btw -- this is the abridged version, leaving out what are probably important details, and it's still [checks] 11k words long. Sorry about that.
Anyone who tells you that the draft is a science is an idiot not worth their twenty-dollar stadium beer. The draft has analytical elements, sure, but it is a crapshoot through and through. If you dare to take a look back on draft histories from the past ten years -- the past twenty, the past thirty -- only rarely is the first pick, the “best in show,” actually the best of his class. I mean, no wonder, right? How well can you determine how good a man is going to be at hockey when you have only seen him as a teenager? Accuracy and prophecy are not kin.
Every ten years, though, you come across someone whose trajectory is easy to map. A prospect who is so head and shoulders above everyone else -- in numbers, in the eye test -- that you cannot help but say that they are going to be The Next One. God save the poor boy you put that name on.
In this case, it is 2014, and they are speaking those words again. On the dingy ice of an OHL arena, a red-haired Toronto boy with scared fawn’s eyes paces around the circles, faster than anyone else in the building. There are articles written about him already, calling his experience the torture test and labelling him Jesus, the saviour, the new great. It will get worse for him from here.
A Generational Prospect
It is 2004, and all eyes are on Sidney Crosby. He has eclipsed QMJHL scoring records. He performs highlight-reel antics. It is known that he will make the NHL as a teenager, and that whichever team has him will have an asset they should not ever think to relinquish.
Now, in 2023, all expectations of him are blown away. He is fifteenth on the all-time scoring list, having played most of his life in the dead-puck era, and will be inside the top ten by the time he retires. He has never been below a point per game, having gotten to a hundred points as an eighteen-year-old rookie and only slowed down to ninety at thirty-five. He has won three Cups; two Harts; two each Art Ross and Rocket Richard.
Something similar can be said for his contemporary, one Alex Ovechkin, sixteenth in all-time scoring, second ever in goals. While neither were always the most singular, dominant player of the past eighteen years (has it really been that long?) their longevity and consistent high-level play have cemented them into that tier of all-time greats.
Such players only emerge once (or, for them, twice) in a generation; a “generational talent.” Gordie Howe was the first, before drafting happened at all, then Gretzky, joined as a part of the WHA merger, then Lemieux, then, debatably, Jagr through the early half of the dead-puck era, then Crosby and Ovechkin. Jagr was drafted fifth overall partly due to political constraints (it was 1990, and Czechia was behind the Iron Curtain), but all of the other drafted ones went first. While development curves for everyone else are hard to map, it is easy to tell, for them, how good they are as youths. We all call Gretzky the “Great One,” but he actually got that nickname before he was a teenager, because of how much better than the rest of his peers he was.
This is how we go up to the 2015 draft. Let’s say that it is September 2014, a full hockey season before the draft, so we can set the scene. Go back to the dingy Erie rink, watch the red-haired boy speed around the ice.
This is Connor McDavid. He was born in January just outside Toronto; if you are unfamiliar with the term “GTA,” I will pause now to tell you that it means Greater Toronto Area, and that it is the nexus of all hockey in the world. He is a Leafs fan, as so many of the GTA hockey-playing hopefuls are.
Connor is an unusual child, even by young hockey prospect standards. Entry to any of the CHL major junior leagues -- the OHL, the WHL, the QMJHL -- starts at sixteen, but select few can apply early, and if they are academically, physically, and emotionally deemed adept they can be accepted for exceptional status and join at fifteen. This happens once every two or three years nowadays; Tavares and Ekblad were the only ones to predate McDavid. As well as being deemed exceptional by the board of the CHL, he is exceptional among peers, too: intelligent and analytical, black-and-white, painfully shy. He works hard in school, desperate to avoid coming off as a “dumb jock.” Media interviewers ask for him, but they have to change the settings on their microphones in order to pick up his voice, it is so soft.
He has already won trophies; scholastic achievement, sportsmanlike behaviour, CHL rookie of the year. He will score at least one point in all but one of the first eighteen games of the 2014-15 OHL season, before breaking his hand in a fight (getting himself a Gordie Howe hatty, being that he already has a goal and an assist). He will score a hundred points in thirty-eight games, and a hundred and twenty points in the forty-seven games he will play.
Understandably, his name is penned in at number one on the draft board. Even such deficits as breaking a hand and being out for six weeks don’t tank his stock, it is so obvious how well on track he is to outpace all but the best.
He is sweet and shy, a captain of Erie based mostly on skill, and tight-laced into the destiny of future franchise saviour.
At least he has a friend, though, right?
Dylan
The 2014-15 Erie Otters are a good team. A great one, even -- third in league standings by season’s end, and you don’t get that far if your single generational superstar is sidelined half the year with a hand injury.
This is where Dylan comes in. Like Connor, he’s a GTA boy, and a young Leafs fan. Unlike Connor, he’s part of a serious hockey family -- the middle child of three. His older brother Ryan has already been drafted, in the first round, no less. He’s a real student of the game, too, a stats obsessive and a calm, steadfast personality.
Remember how we said the draft is a crapshoot? That’s very true. Prospects may have precise rankings when all is said and done, but in the meantime I find it best thinking of them as instead arranging into tiers -- there’s the generational talent in this year, but disregarding him we have a first overall-level, then a small handful of top prospects. Not saviours in their entirety, but certain to make a team very happy. Dylan projects as the latter group -- he’ll be somewhere between three and five. In 2014-15, he’s the OHL scoring leader, and takes the Erie Otters’ single-season record.
He and Connor are also best friends. Connor’s quiet, anxious even, but Dylan has a coolheaded sort of confidence that brings out the best in him. Rarely are they pictured without each other; rarely are they spoken to without mentioning the other. There’s a sweet little video out there of the Otters going to New York state and going on this little ziplining/outdoor climbing gym, and Connor and Dylan are about as glued to each other’s sides as you can be while obeying the harness safety rules. In hockey terms, while a little young for it, they’re married. Much like Crosby and Malkin are, although over a much shorter term, and publically the two Otters are much closer.
Dylan is the one I feel as if I can talk the least about. He is mostly defined by what he is not: not Connor, to start, and before the actual draft takes place that is the most of it.
Of course, that’s the most of what any of it is, isn’t it? These are teenagers, separated into imprecise tiers and mostly defined by which tier they slot into. The three boys below Connor, no matter how good they are, are defined by being not Connor.
Jack Eichel most of all.
Jack, to start, is American, unlike any of the other three. He’s a late birthday -- born in November of 1996 instead of the first eight and a half months of 1997 -- so he’s, in theory, had another year to adapt. (Brief footnote: the September 15 cutoff is what determines draft eligibility, either the year you turn eighteen or the year you turn nineteen. If you were born in, say, June of 2000, you would be eligible for the draft in 2018. If you had the audacity to be born in October of 2000 instead, you’d have to wait until 2019.) His development pipeline is also unlike the others, having come up into the NCAA, college hockey, and playing at the US National Development team before committing to Boston University. He won the Hobey Baker award as a freshman, and led the NCAA in scoring as a rookie.
He was marketed, coming into the draft, as the American Connor -- the new face of American hockey, a homegrown star, a fellow generational talent, although that was a feeble marketing strategy to dull the disappointment of going second to greatness. He was proud and polite, quiet but not scared, a young man uncomfortably aware of his own myth and rather irritated at the fact he had a myth in the first place. Taken in and treated well, he would probably have a well-suited disposition to a high-stress, playoff-bound team.
It’s unfortunate that that wouldn’t realize until eight years after he was drafted.
The Draft Itself, or, What Caused All These Problems In The First Place
The draft lottery rolls around. The lottery and the draft take place on different days -- the lottery several weeks before, so that for a long time the boys have an idea of to whom they will go. The first four teams to pick are, in order:
Edmonton. Edmonton had been very bad, for a very long time, and had three shiny prizes already to show for it: Taylor Hall, drafted first overall in 2010; Nail Yakupov, drafted first overall in 2012; and Ryan Nugent-Hopkins, drafted first overall in 2013. I’m sure you already know this, but Edmonton was Gretzky’s team, while Gretzky won all his cups, and they now stand to get themselves another generational talent in Connor McDavid.
Buffalo. The Sabres have a few decent pieces: Ryan O’Reilly, Sam Reinhart. They haven’t made the playoffs in a few years, and have plummeted to the bottom of the standings, finishing thirtieth out of thirty.
Arizona. Arizona has never gotten off the ground, not once. They are a dust mote of a franchise, held in place by Gary Bettman’s fragile ego and the skimmings of Original Six markets. Their survival, as doomed as we know it is, is banking on a distant hope of good prospect luck and better PDO.
Toronto. While Arizona is the smallest of small markets, Toronto is… well, it’s Toronto. Remember earlier, how I said that the GTA is the nexus of hockey? Toronto is called the Centre of the Universe, and for good goddamn reason. The Leafs are one of the most storied franchises in the NHL, and simultaneously one of the winningest (the second-most Stanley Cups, after Montreal) and the losingest (their most recent Cup was almost sixty years ago.) Their fanbase dwarfs all but the most hardcore of French Canadian separatist contingents. There’s a common phrase now, when any hockey news is mentioned -- but how does this affect the Leafs? It’s well-done satire.
And with four teams, we have four boys. So I come upon the last one now: Mitch Marner. Mitch, like Dylan and Connor, is a GTA boy, a born and raised Leafs fan on an OHL team. He plays for the London Knights -- a diminutive forward (he weighs in at 160 pounds soaking wet at eighteen, and eight years later barely cracks 180) with fantastic playmaking skills, the creativity and gall to do things other players have never even thought of. He’s a sweet one, too, bubbly and energetic and cuddly and kind.
Here is how the draft goes:
The Oilers take the stage first, for the fourth time in six years. The ceremony is unnecessary. Connor McDavid is the name everyone knows they will say. Connor walks up to the stage, looking vaguely nauseous, and dons the jersey and the hat. (His facial expression in the interviews afterward is thoroughly dissected over the next eight years. Some say it’s simple stage fright; others say it’s personal distaste for the Oilers -- remember, Toronto boy, Toronto heart. I choose to believe it’s the first one. Not all of us are John Tavares.)
After a first-round prospect is chosen, they bring him down for an interview, then shuffle him off to some arena underbelly for photos upon photos. Connor performs his niceties, but before he is taken back, he asks to stay. He wants to watch Dylan get drafted.
The Buffalo Sabres come second, and pick Jack Eichel. Eichel is asked, throughout, how he feels about Connor, being behind Connor, coming second to Connor. The narrative being pushed is called McEichel -- the Canadian wunderkind versus the American one -- and he wants no part in it. He’s impressed by Connor’s play, in their few brief meetings he thinks of him as nice enough, he wants to carve out his own path.
This refusal to play along may have been the start of the discontent, in hindsight. The media clearly wasn’t going to get anything out of soft-voiced scared-eyed perfect Canadian boy Connor, but Jack, sharper edges and colder heart, might be good for a soundbite or two about this new league-made rivalry. Jack, though, ever aware, puts himself solidly into Generic Hockey Interview voice and backs off.
The Coyotes come third. Here is where a choice occurs, the first genuine decision. Connor McDavid had been slotted into first pick since the day he got accepted for exceptional status. Eichel had taken a few years more, but his place in second after Connor was well known for months on end. Dylan and Mitch, however, were up in the air. Do you pick the big one with more points, or the small one with star power?
The Coyotes follow the conventional hockey wisdom, and take the big boy. Connor waits to watch his friend take the jersey, then hugs him in the wings.
Finally, the Leafs.
Let’s actually take a step back to talk about the Leafs rebuild, for a second, because it, like everything the Leafs have ever done, is a testament to failure. Also, somewhat, because it is relevant. Also, moreso, because I can’t shut up about hockey and you’ve asked me to talk as long as I like. If you’re still reading, I want you to know that a) I am ever thankful for your time and b) we’re, like, just getting started here.
The Leafs’ last contending era was before the 04-05 lockout season, which means it predates the salary cap. They struggled in the midsection, for a long time, then finally fell enough to gain the fifth overall pick in 2008, with which they selected a big tough young defenceman named Luke Schenn, the first official piece of the Leafs’ rebuild, strange as it may be. Luke, while competent enough, was obviously not the sort of franchise-changing star the Leafs needed, and they struggled in the midsection again, before gaining, once more, the fifth overall pick, with which they selected Schenn’s partner, one Morgan Rielly. The two would be perfect partners, but we won’t know this for eleven years. Luke was traded twelve hours after Rielly’s draft.
Rielly is still in the AHL the next year, 2013, when the Leafs make the playoffs. This is the infamous 4-1 series: the Leafs go down 3-1 in the series, claw their way back up to game seven. They gain a 4-1 lead, going into the third period, and then blow it completely and lose the game, and the series, in overtime. They do not make the playoffs in 2013-14, and before the 2014-15 season begins they change management. The man they install as President decides to tank, and tank hard, selling as much of the Leafs as he can in the hopes of landing that elusive first pick.
They end up with fourth overall, and Mike Babcock, the Leafs’ head coach, does not want Mitch Marner, instead asking the then-management for the bigger defenceman, a boy named Hanifin who will go fifth to the Hurricanes. The Leafs take Marner anyway. Watch him as his name is called. He, like the first three, sits in a nest of other prospects and their families -- Mitch actually sits right behind Jack Eichel -- but unlike them, when his name is called the other prospects lean over to offer him congratulations, as well as his parents and brother. Mat Barzal, from across the aisle, offers a bro-hug as Mitch goes by.
The rest of the draft goes as usual. The 2015 draft, beyond narratively, is one of the deepest drafts in recent memory; players you may recognize include Timo Meier, Mikko Rantanen, Travis Konecny, Sebastian Aho (the Carolina one!), Roope Hintz, Kirill Kaprizov, Troy Terry… the list goes on. These players have their own stories, but few really tie in to this one. (So far.)
Summer passes; we move on. Training camp rolls around.
Connor McDavid, as expected, makes the team. He moves in with Taylor Hall, a fellow first overall. Jack Eichel also makes the team.
Dylan and Mitch do not. Dylan’s reasons are unknown to me, but Mitch is sent down because, again, Babcock does not want him. He’s naturally undersized and does not have a frame that builds muscle; Babcock is not under the impression that young men in Mitch’s image make good hockey players. Both Mitch and Dylan are returned to the OHL.
The stage is set now; each boy has a team. Eight years on, only half of them are on those teams. But we can’t worry about that yet! We have to make it to the NHL first!
World Juniors and the Memorial Cup
Once Connor makes the Oilers, Dylan Strome is named captain of the Erie Otters. Very cool, to only get what you deserve after the golden boy is gone.
Jack and Connor are off playing with the big boys. They’ll get their own section later -- we have to work our way up, not up and down and up and down. I’ve got to be somewhat cohesive, you know? So, we’ll stay, for now, in the world of junior hockey.
The Otters and the London Knights, Mitch’s team, are in the wonderful circumstance of not only both being very good at the same time, but also being in the same division as one another. This means they see each other quite often (no plane travel in the OHL. Bus only.) and have thus formed… a bit of a rivalry. It is becoming difficult to dance around: Dylan Strome, despite the politeness they’ve shown each other at the draft, hates Mitch Marner.
And why wouldn’t you? He’s the one Dylan fought with all last season for the OHL scoring title; he’s fast on his feet and can shoot from impossible angles; he makes plays you’ve never even considered, much less considered possible. He dangles through the Otters and scores the easiest impossible goal you’ve ever seen and laughs as light as air about the whole thing. And he’s tiny. Unfortunately for the rest of us, Marner drew a lot of comparisons to Patrick Kane in his junior days -- thankfully without the character in common, but as a hockey player. An undersized (almost comically so) London winger with otherworldly ability to manifest scoring chances out of nothing. The exact sort of irritating worm that not one of us wants on the other team.
So, of course, they get put on the same team.
The 2016 World Juniors are summoned. Connor McDavid, then dealing with a broken collarbone and a great deal of pressure, is not on Team Canada’s roster. Dylan Strome and Mitch Marner both are. Suddenly and thankfully, the media’s focus shifts from one, false rivalry in McEichel to a very very real one.
I don’t want to dismiss what happens next as a mere symptom of the fact that hockey players are engineered to get along with their teammates, even if they don’t like each other. Admittedly, it does start that way -- Mitch is a winger and Dylan a centre, and both skilled, so the coach puts them on the same line. Simple enough. And then they spark up a friendship.
Dylan’s reasons for hating Mitch were not personal, just hockey-related. Dylan hated Mitch because he was good and he knew it, the simple way a teenager hates their direct competitor. On the same team, though, the competition aspect is removed, and the barrier for hatred is gone. This is the Dylan/Mitch enemies to lovers arc, if you want to put it that way.
Mitch, for the record, I doubt ever hated Dylan. He doesn’t have that in him, never had. He saw a rival, sure, and as soon as that rival wore a matching jersey I assume he taped the word friend over whatever defined their relationship before. Mitch is probably one of the most gregarious, friendly, charming hockey players out there. Beyond his cute little face and on-ice highlights, even. He’s loud, sure, but when he talks he knows how to include you. He finds out what you like and talks about it, he singles you out if you’re shy and builds up your confidence. He’s just plain nice.
Dylan, like the rest of us, was charmed. Within weeks he went from calling Mitch annoying to telling us all about how he loves cuddling (!?) with him. They became fast friends and great linemates.
Dylan’s not the only one Mitch Marner befriends at Worlds, though. Somewhere between matches, Mitch takes an elevator at the complex they’re staying at, and ends up sharing it with a boy from the American team, a tall square-jawed Mexican centre with a Justin Bieber obsession. This is Auston Matthews, one of the projected top picks of the 2016 draft -- born just two days after the cutoff that would have made him eligible to go in 2015. He played with Jack Eichel at the USNTDP, before taking his age-eighteen year to go play pro in Switzerland. He holds the NTDP scoring record as a seventeen-year-old, and will continue to hold it until Jack Hughes breaks onto the scene. The two boys in the elevator do not yet know it, but they are about to share the mantle of franchise saviour, for the franchise most desperately in need of saving.
Either way. The Canadians place sixth at World Juniors, the Americans do better, the Finns win the whole thing. (In the long run, Laine turns out not to be better than Matthews after all.) Mitch and Dylan go back to their OHL teams.
Erie and London tie in points that year, but London wins the OHL title and goes to Alberta for the Memorial Cup, the CHL trophy. Mitch Marner takes home the scoring title, the Stafford Smythe (CHL equivalent of the Conn Smythe), and the Memorial Cup itself. He is one of the most decorated winners in OHL history, touted as being clutch, creating magic, and racking up points. He has close friends in Dylan Strome and fellow Knight Matthew Tkachuk, who will be selected sixth overall in the 2016 draft, the second American after Auston Matthews himself. And when NHL training camp rolls around in the fall, even Babcock cannot deny he is ready, no matter how slight he may still be.
Connor Complex
There’s nothing that fuels story like a good rivalry, and the NHL was obsessed with marketing this rivalry. The Canadian versus the American. The perfect child of a long line of red-blooded southern Ontario tradition versus the Boston boy with a chip on his shoulder. Jack and Connor, Connor and Jack. They hyped Jack up the time leading up to the draft, trying to hint that he was almost as good -- no, just as good -- as McDavid himself.
He was not, and everyone knew.
The 2014-15 Sabres, then the worst team in the NHL and having done an elite job at tanking (they are one of the worst teams in the analytics era, besides the 2022-23 Anaheim Ducks -- I wonder what prize might be waiting at that number one spot? Surely not someone named Connor.) wanted McDavid. The Pegulas, the owners of the Sabres, tried to hide their disappointment in him as pride. They had an all-American star, they said, someone who had grown up not too far from Buffalo himself, and in the same country, no less. He would be the sort of man to lead them into a new golden age, away from the misery of the tank years.
And yet the narrative persisted. McEichel, they whispered. Look at how good Connor McDavid is, and look at how much Eichel is not him. McDavid, they say, McDavid McDavid McDavid. No article could be written about Jack without mentioning how he came second to Connor.
The Sabres tried to quell the whispers. Look at our boy, they say. They signed Eichel to an eight-year, ten million dollar contract, and in the beginning of the 2018-19 season they named him captain. Isn’t our boy great.
The team does not improve. The Sabres hadn’t made the playoffs for three years when they drafted Eichel; they still haven’t made the playoffs today. I wasn’t around to look, but the team was bad. Eichel did his best, but he was young and inexperienced and did not -- never did -- have captain’s blood in him; Ryan O’Reilly lost his love for the game.
The whispers of character issues start to come out. Jack Eichel is a “locker room cancer;” he’s selfish, stuck-up, quick-tempered. He’s caught in a cage where the only key is to be Connor, something which he never wanted to achieve in the first place, and never could have even if he did want it. The whole narrative was completely fabricated. He liked Connor well enough when they met.
I do imagine he has feelings about it, though, and feelings about Connor now. He didn’t know him, not enough to have an opinion on the boy, but the name followed him around long enough for him to think about it. Imagine it. You’re good in your field, great, even. You’re doing well enough to earn yourself a superstar contract, you’re an All-Star, and yet the only way you will get any recognition at all is when they say that you are worse than one of the greatest players ever to play the game. They lock you into a connection that you have never wanted, barring you from forging your own path. You exist permanently in that orange-and-blue shadow. I don’t blame Jack for being angry. I would be too.
Babcock
Auston Matthews was incredible from the jump. He was big, he was strong, his wrister is the stuff of legend. He won the Calder in his and Mitch’s rookie year, by a not insignificant margin, well ahead of Laine. He was a coach’s dream doll, unusual enough to be marketed and good enough to be useful. Unavoidably masculine even at nineteen.
Mitch less so. Mitch is still small, remember, and struggles to gain weight. I know I talk about his size a lot, but it’s genuinely important. Hockey and its fan culture has long been a group that prioritized size and raw power above all things. Mitch possessed neither of those things, and when he struggled with gaining muscle it was seen as an unwillingness to try. If you know anything about the ability of our bodies to gain or lose weight, you know that it is simply a genetic roll of the dice, a scale that puts a little bit of us into the “gains muscle mass easily” category and decides when to stop. Most hockey players actually aren’t very far up the muscle-gaining spectrum, especially when compared to American football or baseball players -- mass is strength, yes, but it’s also more to move around on ice -- but Mitch is especially low on the scale. Because of this, he is seen as unmanly, a dangerous thing to be.
The Leafs media market is a nightmare, and always has been. Because this is the Centre of the Universe, there are more eyes on the Leafs than on any other team. More eyes mean more writers, means you have to say weirder and wilder things to beg for clicks. Outrage is a good marketing tactic. Getting mad about one of the prize prospects seemingly not wanting to bulk up for the good of the team is a very easy thing to do.
What’s more, Mitch, after his entry-level contract had expired, had had a very difficult and long-drawn out contract negotiation, asking for a lot of money -- essentially the maximum that the Leafs could afford at the time. Because of the salary cap constraint, this was seen as kind of selfish. The angry clicks move. Mitch is sensitive, they say. Soft, selfish, weak.
It’s easy enough to dismiss out of hand when your uncle from Belleville does it, because what does he know. It’s different when it’s the head coach of the Leafs. Mike Babcock, is, at the time of hiring, the highest-paid coach in the NHL. He was signed before the 2015-16 season, and at that point had an eight-year contract, which would have carried him up until this year.
Mike Babcock sucked. Structurally, his teams were fine -- the Leafs made the playoffs in 2016-17, and haven’t missed it since, but he was awful, horribly mean to the boys under him, and especially, especially Mitch.
We should skip ahead a little bit. It’s the beginning of the 2019-20 season. The Leafs have made the playoffs three times already, and lost in the first round each time -- but this, too, is not yet a phrase that strikes worry into our hearts. They’re young, and they have plenty of time left.
Respected veteran Jason Spezza came home to the Leafs, having spent his career -- a player who might squeak the Hall of Fame, but is more likely just below its level -- in first Ottawa, where he was the captain of the Senators briefly and one of its most well-loved players, and then Dallas. Like the boys I talk about here, Jason Spezza is a former OHL player, a GTA boy, a Leafs fan. The Leafs’ season opener is against Ottawa, the team where Jason Spezza left most of his mark. There used to be a promotion with the Senators -- a local branch of some pizza chain would offer a free slice if the Sens scored more than five goals in a game. Spezza (and his linemates, Heatley and Alfredsson) were so good, they named his line the Pizza line. Mike Babcock makes Jason Spezza a healthy scratch on that day.
This is seen as disrespectful, but no more than a coach living up to his hardass reputation. You do what the coach tells you, don’t you? Lest you become a whiner, or worse, a locker room cancer. Scratching an extremely well-respected veteran on the opener against his former team is just something some guys do. A message, if you will. Stay the course, Babcock just wants his players to respect him.
And then news of the list leaks.
It happened when Mitch was a rookie, but they kept it hidden for three years. The Leafs went on a father-and-sons trip, one they do every season. They’re on a road trip, with only their fathers, isolated from their home.
(A brief aside to talk about Mitch’s dad; his name is Paul Marner, and he is the most stereotypical hardass hockey dad on the planet. A nitpicker, an armchair coach, a bully. I do not imagine Mitch felt particularly comforted by his and Babcock’s combined presence on this trip.)
Babcock approached Mitch and asked him to organize all of his teammates in a list. He wanted Mitch to arrange them in order of hardest workers to laziest; he thought Mitch was one of the lazy ones, and wanted to drive this point home by making him categorize his teammates like this. Mitch, as a rookie hockey player does in the presence of the Maple Leaf hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles, obliged. He was under the impression it would be a private affair, just an assignment from Babcock to teach him some sort of lesson. Whether it be out of fear or honesty, he placed himself last on the list.
Babcock told the others.
Specifically, two Leafs vets that Mitch had placed low on the list -- Nazem Kadri and Tyler Bozak. Imagine this: you are a decent centre on a bubble team, but nonetheless an established NHL veteran of about a decade, and your coach shows you a list a rookie made. He tells you that the rookie arranged everyone by work ethic, grinders to lazy shits. You are firmly on the “lazy shit” end.
How much does the coach have to suck, or how much does the rookie have to be loved, for Kadri and Bozak to react like they did? The rumour says they called for Babcock’s head on the spot. Mitch was in tears. I wouldn’t want to stay in Toronto if that happened to me. No wonder he and Auston signed for so much -- Babcock was barely halfway through his contract when they did. If I’d thought that I would have to deal with him for that long, I wouldn’t accept anything less than as much as they could possibly pay me.
In the end, in the beginning of December, 2019, Mitch got hurt and the Leafs went on a road trip. They were already losing by the time they’d left, and they kept losing. Normally, a team on a road trip doesn’t take the hurt players with them, but they took Mitch. The Leafs lost six in a row and finally fired Babcock, letting Sheldon Keefe take his place. Mitch’s presence was a comfort.
Go West
The Leafs make the playoffs first, and take Mitch with them. The Sabres are fighting a silent war with their star centre, but they are no closer to success.
Connor McDavid is named captain at nineteen, the youngest in the history of the NHL. He scrapes the team to a playoff spot, then to a second round loss. He wins the Art Ross and the Hart.
The year before his entry-level contract expires, when he is first eligible, he signs what is then the most expensive per-year contract in NHL history -- eight years, a hundred million dollars. He is looking forward to spending the rest of his prime as an Oiler. He wins the Art Ross the next year, comes very close the year after. The Oilers do not make the playoffs again until after Covid hits.
He gets hurt a lot, too -- he breaks his collarbone as a rookie, missing half the season, and at the very end of the 2018-19 year, crashes into the net irons and shatters his knee. There are rumours of the man who broke Connor’s collarbone doing it on purpose; Connor claims that he overheard the man bragging about it, and I am inclined to believe him. This guy gets traded to the Oilers not too long after that.
In the meantime, Dylan is struggling. The Coyotes stick him in Tucson, a team he is obviously too good for. His entry-level contract slides another season. He wiffles between Tucson and Arizona, not being considered good enough to stay up but being too good to stay down. In the end, on the last year of his entry-level contract, he is traded from the Coyotes to the Chicago Blackhawks, a similarly bad team with a few remnants of its Cup-winning days. Dylan, a feeble icon of Chicagoan hope for one last dance with the aging core, centres Patrick Kane.
In his first half-season with the Blackhawks, he scores 51 points in 58 games. There are hopeful flashes of what he can be, the touted prospect he once was.
Things wrap up on New Years like this: Connor is beyond a hundred-point pace; Dylan, although in no less danger, is at least out of the dust at the bottom of the barrel; Jack is caught in a cold war; the team loves Mitch.
John Tavares has a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Playoff Series
March of 2020 rolls around, and with it the coronavirus pandemic. The league is shut down before the season ends, and the playoffs re-formed in July, inside a bubble -- no one in, no one out until they are eliminated. The Sabres stay with their families, having once again missed the playoffs. The Leafs are set to play the Columbus Blue Jackets, and the Oilers are set to play the Blackhawks.
This, to date, is Dylan’s only playoff appearance, and he is set to face Connor.
Dylan wins.
The qualifying round -- functioning as the first round of the bubble playoffs -- is a best of five, not of seven, and the Blackhawks defeat the Oilers 3-1. They then proceed to lose in five games (this one is a best of seven) to Vegas, but Dylan’s job is done.
The Leafs lose in the first round again. The Leafs have made the playoffs since Auston and Mitch’s debut, every single year, but they lose each time; in six, to the Capitals, then in seven every year after that. Or, in this case, in five.
Covid had not stopped by the end of the 2020 season ( :/ ) and the NHL was rearranged for what would be ostensibly the 2020-2021 season, but ended up being played mostly in 2021. Because of border laws, the Canadian teams are sequestered into their own, North division. Dylan Strome signs a two-year contract extension with Chicago right before the season starts -- one that will carry him until the end of the 2021-2022 season.
If you’ve seen All or Nothing on Amazon Prime, it is this season that is covered. The Leafs tear through what is seen as a weaker North division, taking a comfortable first place spot. Connor McDavid cracks a hundred points in fifty-six games. Both Leafs and Oilers lose in the first round.
The Leafs do it perhaps most remarkably. They have drawn the Canadiens, a rather insubstantial team who are in their spot mostly because they have one of the best goaltenders in recent memory at their back.
I watched this game, live, before I was a serious Leafs fan. I can only imagine what it would be like if you were already invested at that point; I would not wish to live that horror on anyone. I tried to watch All or Nothing, later, but I stop here.
Corey Perry and John Tavares are both on the ice, in the race for the puck. Tavares catches an edge, as you sometimes do, and falls, and Perry’s knee is in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time, and it catches Tavares in the side of the head. He falls to the ice, his limbs splaying unnaturally. He won’t move.
Medics come over, to try and raise him to his feet. He fights against them, blood streaming from a cut in his forehead, unable to tell if they are trying to hurt him or not. There is no one in the crowd, the stadium empty for the pandemic. The camera cuts to Kyle Dubas in the rafters, who has a phone in his hand and swiftly vanishes back into the halls of the arena. He is calling Tavares’ wife. We do not know what is going to happen. Everyone looks shaken -- the Habs have just watched a man nearly die, the Leafs have just lost their captain, perhaps forever. They lose, although the game feels like an afterthought. I do not want to watch hockey anymore.
They win the next three straight, though, even without him. Then they lose, twice, in overtime.
The Leafs, as they have done for the past four years up to this point, go to game seven.
Partway through the game, Mitch Marner panics in his defensive zone and puts the puck over the glass. This is a penalty, it is a penalty every time, and he knows that. He sits in the box, looking defeated already. He curls in on himself, and the camera flashes to the penalty box. He’s crying. He knows the game is lost.
The Leafs are eliminated again, and there is a target on his back now, not only for the puck going over the glass but for the tears. He’s soft, they say. As they have said since he was picked, because he doesn’t look like a hockey player should, because he doesn’t act like a hockey player should, because he doesn’t play hockey like a hockey player should. He makes too much and he disappears when it matters.
Thoughts on the Leafs’ playoff successes suddenly switch from the core is young, even if this is frustrating to they need to win before it’s too late. Already, in recent years, they have suffered historic game-seven chokes and drastic failures to launch. Whether they do it against teams like the President’s Trophy-winning Capitals or the barely-alive wild-card Canadiens is irrelevant. They cannot win a round, at all. The Leafs are already the team with the greatest Cup drought, and they are now gaining a long playoff round victory drought too. It should be time, at least, for them to look like they are a contender.
This is how the Leafs find themself stuck; a particularly frustrating timeloop, even though hockey itself is nothing but. Sports are cyclical by nature. A team is bad, then okay, then good, then declining, then bad again, and this repeats anew. Some teams try to get themselves out of this cycle by being good forever; I can assure you that this only really happens to the New York Yankees, who employ a cadre of evil wizards to keep everything on that hell team going well for them. Most other teams who try end up stuck like the Canucks are, right now: bad enough to miss the playoffs, but not good enough to get key picks for a rebuild. I can see next season play out, clear as day: they struggle out of the gate, one of their stars gets hurt right when it seems like they’re at the very, very start of gathering momentum, they’re bottom-10 by January and the team says everyone but Pettersson are on the table, they trade picks and low-grade players, they get blazing hot post-deadline and finish twenty-first.
There is, unfortunately, also a perception that pure talent is not what makes players playoff performers -- instead, some so-called “clutch gene” that exists, or not. The reality is somewhere in between. Clutch exists. There are always players who can score when no one else can even dream of it, but a greater problem is luck. President’s Trophy winners are not often Cup winners (even if higher seeds are most likely to win), because the regular season is a much, much bigger sample size and the playoffs can change the course of all of it by a goalie having a hot streak at the right time. The 2018-19 Tampa Bay Lightning, third-best team in NHL history, got swept in the first round by Sergei Bobrovsky going crazy. The 2022-23 Bruins lost in seven in the first round in much the same manner.
And no matter what, the Leafs are always on the wrong end of the luck. Bounces hit the post. The refs take back goals for reasons they would have ignored at any other time of year. John Tavares slips, and his head makes contact with a knee.
Mitch ends up the whipping boy. He is the Leafs’ most valuable player, and this is a team with Auston Matthews on it, but I’m serious. He was the Leafs’ leading playoff scorer in 2023, he’s one of the best penalty-killers in the league, he’s adored by everyone who’s ever once talked to him. He only ever wanted to be a Leaf, and now that he is here he is the sacrificial lamb for the anger at a curse that is not his fault.
I do blame the media. I will always blame the media, those who turn on him at a moment’s notice because they know picking on the skinny pretty unmanly one will get more clicks than anything else. I beg of you -- know that, of anything that it could be, it is not Mitch’s fault.
Jack Eichel has a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Neck Injury
It is 2021, and the Sabres aren’t going to make the playoffs. Jack Eichel has been captain for coming up on three years, and has been a Sabre for coming up on six, none of which have even slightly improved the team. He is widely disliked within the fanbase, and, rumouredly, within the locker room and organization.
Jack is frustrated, dragging a mediocre team along through a slog of the past six years, and he has never been the kindest man on the planet. He is about to get worse. The Sabres are on a losing streak when they head to Long Island, and Jack is hit the wrong way and slips a disk in his neck. The Sabres insist he’ll only be out a week and a half.
It is a great sin in hockey, to go against team. Anything that can be seen as selfish is demonized; shooting from a difficult angle when your teammate is wide open, not playing when you can muscle through the pain. Not trusting your coach or management is about as bad as you can get. If you’re a team guy, willing to sacrifice health and limb for the boys, you are held as saint, no matter how hurt you become in the end. This is a philosophy that has been drilled into these men since they were kids, as soon as they put their first skates on. You can stand any pain for the length of a hockey shift; you can play through anything for two minutes. It is a dangerous, dangerous school of thought, one of the most destructive parts of hockey culture. But it is, nonetheless, law.
Eichel is about to commit a sin so great they’ll kick him out of Heaven. I do think that, of the four of them, he is the only one with any semblance of genre awareness: when he was first scouted as a prospect and they were comparing him to McDavid, I think that he would be the only one to ignore the media’s spin on that as thoroughly as he did. He knows what he is, and he knows himself. Of course it comes off as bitchy and selfish, though -- that kind of pressure can’t be kind to anyone.
Before the week and a half is up, he visits a specialist doctor about his neck. This is where it all starts to go wrong.
The Sabres take issue with that for two reasons: one, that they hoped he’d be able to come back after the end of it. Keep in mind that he has herniated a disk in his neck, an injury typically so severe it’s impressive he’s walking -- slipping a cervical disk often causes nerve pain that radiates down through the entire spinal cord below that point, which is the whole body from how high up his is. Two, that the doctor he consults is an independent surgeon, one unaffiliated with the Sabres themselves.
The thing about belonging to a hockey team is that you are, because of the way your employment is linked to your physical health, essentially their property. They make your medical decisions for you, they feed you, they tell you how to move. Going to someone else is a breach of contract, and the already-tense connection between Jack and the Sabres gets more tense. The Sabres keep losing. They lose eighteen games in a row.
Jack’s doctor recommended a surgery that no NHL player has ever had; cervical disk replacement. The Sabres did not want this -- the surgery carries risks, yes, but they also wanted to control the way that Jack’s injury was handled, and going through with this surgery was Jack’s wish, not theirs. The Sabres do their own evaluation, and ask for a different, more common surgery: spinal fusion. This surgery carries less immediate risk, but the bones in Eichel’s neck will also be fused, and he doesn’t want that. Because the team has final control over a player’s health, not the player, they decline his disk replacement. Having reached a stalemate, they rule him out for the rest of the season, trying to win a war of attrition.
September 2021 rolls around, and the Sabres, along with thirty-one other teams, take training camp. At the beginning of training camp, players do a physical exam. Jack, because his herniated disk has not improved, because he needs a surgery that has been denied from him, because he is stubbornly and bravely willing to wait out the Sabres, fails his physical. As a result, the Sabres, fed up with him, strip the captain’s C from his chest.
Jack makes one final request to the team: either let him get the surgery or trade him. In the end, they trade him to the Vegas Golden Knights, a team that did not exist when he was drafted. The Golden Knights approve him for the disk replacement surgery the day they acquire him.
The surgery is a success; his rehab goes better than anyone expects, and he starts tearing it up when he comes back. I would argue that, if the Golden Knights win the Cup this year, he should get the Conn Smythe -- he has been an invaluable member of the team, even without a letter on his chest.
It is less important for him to win his million awards than it is for him to come in and out of this surgery in the first place, still able to play. He fought with the team that was supposed to have upheld him as their star for months over his right to do what he wanted with his own health; in the end, the only way to go was for him to change that team. He was the first to have this surgery, but after him there have already been hockey players who have undergone it -- much like Tommy John, the baseball player who got his ulnar ligament reconstructed and the surgery to do so named after him. He fought for the chance to control his own body and won.
And for that, he was demonized.
The Sabres missed the playoffs every year they had him; they missed the playoffs every year after he left. Because he was the captain and he had the audacity to go against the organization’s wishes, he was hated. In Buffalo, he is still hated. If you ask, they’ll tell you he was a locker room cancer, that he was undevoted to winning. If you look at him in Vegas, neither of those things are true.
Jack Eichel is a rare man -- he does have that “clutch” gene, or rather doesn’t have the choke instinct. He has always been unbothered by the spiral around him. He operates well in the mire, and when the pressure rises it doesn’t affect him (or maybe, even better, he feeds on it.) He has the right kind of mentality -- that fuck-you, I’m here and you can’t change that, you tried to control me and I wouldn’t bend mentality. He has only made the playoffs once, this year. Like Dylan, actually, his only appearance has involved defeating Connor McDavid. Go back and watch his highlights from the Vegas-Edmonton series if you can: he has a couple of pretty goals and more than a couple great defensive takeaways, but he doesn’t lose his cool, not once. He has earned his right to be here, and he knows it more than anyone else. I’m rooting for the Stars, but I hope he wins some day.
153
How do you talk about the Edmonton Oilers? I mean, without either excusing or demonizing them, although I admit I have Hater Instinct and trend towards the latter. They have the best player in the world; that grown-up incarnation of the wide-eyed boy on the Erie rink. They have the best playoff performer in the world; Leon Draisaitl, who I have not avoided mentioning until now on purpose, but whom I cannot continue without bringing up. They have been terribly cap-managed since the day McDavid was drafted, and are an unstable roster with blazing-hot offense and very little defence or goaltending at all.
For a brief moment, let’s not talk about the Oilers. Let’s only talk about Connor himself.
McDavid has 850 points in 569 career games. Not even Sid had that many points through that few games. If he stays healthy, Connor’s well on track to become the second player ever to hit two thousand for his career -- after a certain other Oiler, who need not be mentioned. He has won just about every award you can win, with the exception of the Selke… and the Cup.
If it’s possible, he has proven himself better than all of the hype at the draft saying he would become a great. To watch him, you can see the way he has changed his team, how even though they have all learned from him that he is still the best.
There is something that many Oilers do. When next your team plays them, pay attention to it: they cut into the offensive zone with possession on the outside, using tight little crossovers to gain speed, after which they’ll usually try to rush the net (if there are no defenders in the way). This is a move that McDavid has patented; he’ll use it, just as many of the others will, but he’ll probably be the one that scores. The depth all skate like him, really, fast and in wide arcs, trying to generate a rush chance.
Connor as a player is a tour de force, the best power-player in the world by a mile, no slouch at even strength, speedy enough to score even shorthanded. The boy’s got wheels. Sometimes it’s hard to tell which NHLers are fast and which are slow, but Connor’s just that tick above everyone else that you can see it without eye training at all.
Connor as a person is a bit less showy. He’s quiet by nature, shy and soft-voiced. Because he was hyped so much (franchise saviour, McJesus, Next One) he has been media trained into sterility, giving the same level answers as everyone else, hardly daring to express any opinion at all. His eyes are big, rounded, and one of them is lazy from a time when his brother tried to take it out as a child, and that combined with his heavy brow and stiff expression -- he’s never been a good smiler, smirks with one corner of his mouth and that’s mostly it -- give him a resting expression of something like concern, or maybe despair. When he laughs, he doesn’t really “laugh,” just kind of coughs, a one or two-syllable affair. He avoids eye contact with the camera, and often the reporters as well. There is no seething emotion under the surface, not like with Eichel, nor does he speak analytically like Dylan does. He moves through his life as if he is someone who does not want it to turn out quite like this.
I do not know if he wants to be in Edmonton. There are jokes about how he is desperate to leave, but I definitely don’t believe those; there’s a difference between not wanting to stay and wanting to go. I don’t think he hates it. He has been given a responsibility, the captain’s C -- and because, unlike Jack Eichel, he is a good Canadian boy who has been given a destiny, he accepts it. He loves his teammates, especially Draisaitl, whom he seems to derive all his confidence from.
I will also say that I don’t believe he’s stupid. Naive, perhaps; not stupid. There is no way out for him, even if he was sure he wanted to leave; he’s the best player in the world, far too expensive for any contender to afford in either trade or cap space, and if he asks for a trade he won’t let himself go to a team that isn’t already a contender. He will remain an Oiler at least until his contract is up, and I imagine that his staying afterwards depends on Draisaitl.
People talk about him leaving a lot, largely because of the team that has been assembled around him. The Oilers are not a well-created team, and I will say that plainly now and spend as little time technically deconstructing it as possible.
Beyond McDavid and Draisaitl, they have:
A rookie starting goaltender, whose success as we know it is based on a single-season sample size and a complete playoff collapse.
A five million dollar backup goaltender, who earned his contract by being carried by the Leafs, despite being utterly horrendous for a long enough stretch leading up to his free agency that anyone who looked beyond the win-loss numbers wouldn’t have signed him.
One genuine shutdown defender.
One young up-and-coming defender; by far one of the most promising Oiler (or otherwise) defensive prospects, beyond the usual suspects.
One netfront grinder who is great at playing wing to high-power setters, but cannot drive his own line.
One decent 2C.
Sarah Nurse’s cousin. Sarah’s better.
A supporting cast of bad defencemen and middling-at-best forwards.
Many charming characters, of course: Zach Hyman, the grinder, is a beloved ex-Leaf, and I’m personally a fan of Nugent-Hopkins, the 2C, but the vast majority of this is not the sort of thing a contending team is built upon. McDavid has missed the playoffs almost as often as he’s made them. The playoffs are a crapshoot, but in order to try your luck you have to at least be able to enter the lottery, and it takes a stunning amount of effort to be able to do that.
So, McDavid lingers, in this kind of limbo. It mirrors the Leafs, almost. (And yes. Because McDavid is an Ontario boy, and the Leafs are the Centre of the Universe, we have to mention them both in conversation. Not all stories revolve around the Leafs, but this one does.) One true contender, and one generational talent, both what we picture to be well overdue for their Cup run, but neither having yet done so.
The thing about the stories of the class of 2015 is that they intertwine, that they mimic and mirror each other. These boys have not simply gotten drafted in the same handful of picks in the same year and gone on their merry ways -- they layer, they parallel, they weave around each other. Connor is the captain of a team that cannot win, Jack is a captain, Mitch cannot win. Jack fought for the right to control his body and was demonized for it; Mitch negotiated for a contract that he determined to be a fair price for Babcock, and was demonized for it. Whatever pure saviour they figure Connor to be, Jack is the twisted inverse of that, falling from grace.
Connor has one of the best seasons in NHL history, one of only seventeen player-seasons with over a hundred and fifty points (Nine of those seasons belong to Gretzky. Another four belong to Lemieux.) He loses, in six games in the second round, to the Vegas Golden Knights. At the time that he’s eliminated, he leads the playoffs in points. Leon Draisaitl is tied for second place. Counting from the date Mitch Marner played his first game in the NHL, the Oilers and Leafs have almost exactly the same number of playoff game wins, with the Oilers having one more.
There’s No Place Like Strome
Before we can look to the future, there is one person I have been neglecting. Dylan, poor Dylan. I think it would be only half an unfair assessment to call him a draft bust. He’s talented, for sure, but not nearly the same calibre that the draftees around him are. Hardly a Marner, an Eichel, or even a Rantanen or a Meier.
His career has existed quietly in the shadows, so far from Connor McDavid that it only feels fair to mention them in the same conversation in this context. It has been eight years since they were best friends, Connor so close to Dylan he waited in the stadium in order to watch him get drafted. They didn’t look each other in the eye in the handshake line when Dylan won their series. Connor didn’t go to his wedding.
That being said: so far, he has found himself a knack for landing in the shadow of greatness. When he was an Erie Otter, it was Connor -- Dylan held the scoring title in their draft year, while Connor was out nursing his hand, but Connor was the chosen son and Dylan was the Coyotes’ consolation prize. When he was traded to the Blackhawks, he found himself centring Kane and Debrincat, but of course both of them were the offseason and trade deadline’s prizes, and not him.
And then he signed in Washington.
So now, we go back to Ovechkin. Alex Ovechkin is one of the greatest players of all time; his Capitals are on the decline now, but they contended for a long time while he was playing and may still contend as long as Ovi still skates. For a long time, the team relied on Ovechkin’s goalscoring, assisted mostly by his faithful centre, Nicklas Backstrom. They, too, are married; they have played a thousand games as teammates, been through a decade of heartbreak together before the Cup was theirs. During the 2021-2022 season, Backstrom took time off -- he needed hip surgery, something likely to end his career. Ovi was alone.
There is a fundamental difference, of course, between the expectations of wingers and centres. A winger, like Ovi, scores, or assists, at his own leisure, but it is the centre’s job to drive his line. Ovechkin is generational -- he will sink forty goals no matter what -- but he still needs someone to move him out of the defensive zone, someone to make his assist.
Enter Dylan -- a young centre, not especially fast on his feet but intelligent, and clearly experienced in the realm of managing high-calibre wingers (see: Debrincat, and the ghost of Patrick Kane.) He joins the Capitals on a one-year contract, desperate to prove himself. Chicago didn’t want him, and Arizona didn’t either. It takes barely until November before he is, once again, the necessary shadow of greatness.
Ovechkin, the team’s captain and centrepoint, clearly likes what he sees, and the management does, as well. The Capitals offer Strome a five-year extension.
Maybe it’s because he’s less of a superstar then the other three members of his draft class, but Dylan has a life outside of hockey -- a wife and young daughter. After being thrown away by other teams, and with his new family, I can only imagine that it was… peaceful, if anything, to be offered this contract.
Chicago, after rapidly getting rid of him, Debrincat, and then Kane, would go on to tank spectacularly, and win themselves the first overall pick. They will use it to draft another generational talent. His name is also Connor.
The Blue Wedding
So, here we stand, at the end of it all. Dylan finally has a home, a mother hen of a Russian bear that it has become his job to assist in record-breaking, and soon to be two daughters. Jack has a team that loves him, freedom from pain, and an ongoing potential Cup run. Connor has a sterile mansion, a best friend, and an unsteady team. Mitch’s life is up in the air.
Right as I’m writing this, the general manager of the Leafs has been unceremoniously kicked out. His tenure will end the day before Mitch’s no-move contract kicks in, but it is not known if Mitch’s time as a Leaf will survive that long. He is well on track to become one of the greatest Leafs of all time, and his tenure might be cut short in the prime of his career.
But let’s wrap up with this: Mitch will get married this summer. Because he’s Mitch, the darling of the league, everyone’s best friend, I imagine the wedding party to be extensive/ Packed to the brim of current and former Leafs, as well as people who have never been Leafs. I wonder if Dylan Strome will be there -- or even Connor McDavid, although McDavid never even attended Dylan’s wedding.
The stories, as they do, go on.
#asks#mitch marner#jack eichel#connor mcdavid#dylan strome#hope this helps and/or gives you brain poisoning#narrativeposting
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Fucking You Right
Pairing- Jungkook x Named Reader
Word count- 4.9k
Includes- Argument, sex, fingering, oral, pussy eating, cum eating, missionary, cock riding, tummy bulge, squirting, multiple orgasms, fluff, Jungkook is such a fanboy for his girl
Tag List- @mingtina @jaxxminee @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa
@borntowalkaway @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @seokwoosmole @meowmeowminnie @realisticnotes @effielumiere @svnbangtansworld
Gif Credit- @jung-koook
Masterlists- check out for more fics
📝Masterlists 📝BTS Masterlist 📝Jungkook Masterlist
Jungkook POV
She's bopping her head to the music, my headphones on her ears, sitting next to me on the couch, Bam's head in her lap as she absentmindedly pets him
She's the only one I'm letting hear the finished track before anyone else
I value her input and I also wanted her to hear this song
The explicit version
I see when she hears the part I want her too because her head snaps to me, her eyes wide as plates, her mouth dropped open
"Holy shit", she gapes
I just smile, waiting for the song to finish
Waiting to see if she gets it
Two minutes later she pulls the headphones off, her face blushing
"Jesus Christ Kookie", she says
"Do you like it? Is it good?"
She nods, "It's good. So cute and then... damn....that line..."
"Which one?", I ask nonchalantly
She rolls her eyes, "You know. The 'fucking you right' one? ARMYS are gonna go insane"
Yeah I know
But that's not why I did it
"Are you really gonna sing this live?"
I shake my head, "That's the explicit version. There's a clean one. Changes fucking to loving"
She raises her eyebrow, "Still can be taken sexually"
I shrug, "I don't care"
I really don't
I'm not a fourteen year old anymore
I'm twenty five and ARMYS have to recognize I'm a grown man now
"K-ARMYS might be upset", she says, "I-ARMYS not so much. They're used their artists dating. To them it's not a big deal"
"That's why there's a clean version", I answer
"Well, I really liked the song. Congrats on writing a bop", she smiles
"Thanks", I smile, somewhat annoyed that she still isn't getting it
She nods, cuddling Bam, "So movie? Or do you wanna keep watching the kdrama we started?"
I just stare at her, not believing that she's not going to say anything more
I mean I'm talking about fucking someone in the song
Something no BTS member has done and she's not gonna ask more about it?
How?
"Kookie?", she asks, tilting her head, "Are you ok?"
No, I'm not
"Is that all you have to say?"
"Uh what?"
"About the song. Is that all you have to say?"
"Well yeah", she says confused, "I mean you asked for my opinion and I gave it. I don't know what else to say"
"You don't know what else to say?", I repeat, getting upset, "So you're not going to ask about the fucking part? Like is it literally or figuratively? Like is it an actual person?"
"Well I assume you mean a girl Jungkook", she answers, "But I don't know why you need me to ask about your sex life? Why do I have to know who you're fucking?"
"I'm not fucking anyone", I growl, angry this isn't going the right way
"Then what the hell?"
"You're not curious if I have someone in mind when I wrote that line? When I wrote this whole song which is basically a love song?"
"I don't need to know who you're pining for Jungkook"
"You should be asking because it's fucking you!", I yell, the shock on her face so fucking irritating, "The song is about you!"
I can't believe she's this oblivious
"What?", she gapes
"God, you're so fucking dumb!", I shout, standing up, starting to pace, Bam lifting his head and barking at me, "Jesus Christ, I've dropped so many fucking hints over the last few months and you don't get any of them!"
I've done everything I could think of- complimenting her, holding her hand, constantly hugging her, kissing her cheek
We fucking cuddle everytime we watch something
And she does all these things back to me and I don't understand what she doesn't get
I can't stand it when she introduces me as her best friend, when she constantly talks about what a good friend I am and all that shit
It infuriates me
And I'm angry at myself because I was too chicken shit to be direct
The fear of her rejection is massive
I have no problem getting girls to fuck, no problem telling girls my feelings for them when I did have girlfriends
But with her it's like I'm catatonic when it comes to talking about my feelings for her
I assume it's because I'm fucking in love
I've never went that far with any of the girls
It was never love
But with her it just fucking hit me in the face and at first I was terrified
I tried to deny it for awhile but being with her all the time, I couldn't
It was fucking obvious
To me anyway
I choked every time I tried to say something so I decided to drop hints
None of which she got
This song was the last thing I was going to try indirectly
Yes it's also for ARMYS but certain lines in the song I wrote when I thought of her
And I suspect the only reason why I'm saying anything at all is because I'm so heated
"Hints?", she asks
"Yes fucking hints! Goddamn Joanne, we fucking cuddle every time we hang out!", I yell, "I hate when you call me your best friend. I don't want to fucking be your best friend! I want to be your fucking boyfriend! I want to be the only fucking guy you want, the only guy you see, the only guy you love"
Her eyes are huge, blinking, as she whispers, "Love?"
"Yes love! I fucking love you! What do you think that line about giving all of me in the song is about? The devotion line? It's everything I want to give you!", I shout, "And by the way, you can be damn sure, I'd fuck you right!"
The look of utter shock on her face is insane to me
"I'm fucking stupidly in love with you!", I yell, to make everything clear
"Then why didn't you say that!", she yells back, standing up, making Bam yelp, jump off the couch and leave the room
"Because I was fucking scared! You fucking mean everything to me! I didn't want to lose you because you don't feel the same way!", I yell
"That's your fault! I never gave you the impression that you couldn't tell me anything or that I'd ever drop you, no matter what!"
"I was scared!"
"You didn't have to be!"
"Well how the fuck should I have known that?"
"You would have if you'd open your fucking mouth instead of dropping stupid hints like we're in high school!", she roars, "If you'd open your stupid mouth you'd know that you are the only guy I ever wanted! That I want to be your girlfriend for literally years! You'd know that I'm stupidly in love with you too! You fucking jerk!"
I open my mouth to yell at her when what she says sinks into my brain
She....loves me?
"And by the way, I love that your stupid song is about me and you better be damn sure you're gonna fuck me right", she yells, "And to start you better get your ass over here and kiss me right fucking now Jeon, Jungkook!"
My feet move immediately, practically running to her
Pulling her into my arms, I crash my lips against hers in an explosive kiss that shocks my entire body
I feel like my body is on fire, fireworks going off and I knew, I knew she's the one
Her arms move around my neck, her body pressing against mine as my arms wrap securely around her
My tongue finds hers, pressing together and shivers run up my spine
When we pull away, I smile, running my fingers in her hair, my eyes on her gorgeous brown ones
"I love you", I finally say
"I love you", she smiles, "My Kookie"
I nod, leaning my forehead against hers, "Always yours"
She kisses me again just as I was about to kiss her
I pick her up as the kiss deepens, heading right to my room
Bam is laying on the floor and he needs to get out right now
"Bam, out. Living room"
He whines but gets up and leaves the room
I close the door, sparks running up my spine as her lips press into my neck over and over again
I get her on my bed, kissing her passionately as I begin to undress her
I need her now
She helps me get her clothes off, pulling mine off at the same time, the clothing thrown all over my room
"Jesus Kookie", she says, gaping at me, her eyes widening when she looks at my dick, "That's...wow... very....huge"
I smirk at her, "Yeah. It's all for you baby"
She swallows hard as I get on the bed next to her
Pushing her down on the bed, I get my first glimpse of her, my mouth dropping
She's fucking amazing
Her stomach actually has some girl abs that I had no clue would turn me on
They're not cut into her like mine are but the faint lines are there
And now I noticed the small muscles in her arms and her thighs, muscles that were always covered up by clothes
Add the tattoos sprinkled all over her body I had no idea about and she's like my wet dream
"I didn't know you worked out", I say, touching her stomach
"Uh yeah. I don't go to a gym or anything, I just do it at home", she says, nervously, "Do....do you not like it? Do I look like a guy?"
I scoff, "No Joanne, you do not look like a guy. Don't be dumb. You're fucking gorgeous baby. God, I didn't know I'd be this turned on by your muscles baby"
"Really?", she asks quietly
"Really baby", I assure her, "And this just means that now you have to come work out with me"
She raises her eyebrow, "You want to do that?"
"Definitely", I nod, "We can work out together and then I can fuck you all over the gym"
Her cheeks turn so red, making me grin
"I'm gonna fuck you against every wall, on every machine we use and in the shower", I tell her, lowering my mouth to her ear, changing to a whisper, "Then I'm gonna bring you home and fuck you all over my apartment"
"Fuck Kookie", she whimpers
God I'm so turned on and I can't stop my hands from roaming all over her pretty body
"Fuck baby, I'm gonna fuck you so good. Every fucking day, all day"
"Seven days a week?", she giggles making me chuckle too
"Damn right baby. Gonna fuck you right, eat your pretty pussy just right, make you cum over and over for me", I tell her, leaning down, pressing kisses to her chest as I grope her boobs, "Make you scream my name until I'm the only thing in your pretty head. Fill your tiny pussy up with my cum, watch it drip out of you"
"Fuck Kookie"
"Mmm baby", I whisper, kissing around her nipple, "Then after I'm gonna kiss you, hold you, cuddle you"
I stop kissing her, looking up into her eyes, "And I'm gonna love you right every day of my life Jo. You're my everything and I love you so much"
She smiles, her fingers running in my hair, pushing it off my forehead, "I love you Kookie. Always baby"
I smile, letting her love wash over me, making me so fucking happy
Moving to her lips, I give her a sweet kiss, savoring the feel of her lips against mine
Then I pull away and immediately attach my mouth to her nipple, sucking on the perfect bump
"Jungkook, fuck!", she moans, her hand burying in my hair
God, her nipple is so hard, easy to suck on as I squeeze her boobs over and over
Her tits are amazing and I know I'm gonna be on them all the fucking time
Switching between nipples, I suck and lick all the while trailing my hand down her sexy body
Getting between her legs, I slide two fingers inside
She's so wet she takes them easily, moaning loudly as I massage inside her cunt
Her pussy clenches tightly around my fingers and I can't fucking wait to get her around my dick
She's gonna feel so fucking good
Pulling my fingers almost out, I thrust them back in, listening to her wet cunt take them
Moving faster, I thrust into her again and again, trying to find her spot
After a few more pumps, she moans so loudly, clamping down on my fingers, her pretty body shaking
Found it
Making sure I hit there as I finger her, I spread kisses down her body, feeling her skin tremble under my lips
I like that a lot
Finally getting between her legs, I watch her wet hole take my fingers, creaming them as I kiss her thighs, mesmerized by the sight
"So pretty baby", I murmur
My eyes land on her throbbing clit and fuck me, I need it in my mouth now
Leaning forward, I give her bump a lick, making her shout in pleasure, then I suck it in my mouth
It throbs against my lips, sending bliss down to my hard cock and I can't stop myself, I start sucking on her hard and fast
"Jungkook!", she cries and oh man, I never loved hearing my name more than this second
I keep my fingers moving at a steady pace, pressing on her spot again and again, slurping on her perfect clit
Both of her hands move into my hair, gripping hard as she cries out in pleasure
Fuck, she's so hot
I swear I had to be fucking stupid to not notice her sooner
She's the most beautiful, sexy, hot, stunning girl I've ever seen
I'm so happy everything worked out and she's finally mine
"Jungkook! I....I'm...I", she trails off into a moan
Hearing her fuels me to go harder and I suck on her faster, loving the way her clit feels in my mouth
God, I'm so gonna eat her out everyday
Not only do I love making her feel good, I'm enjoying this so much too
Another tug on her bump has her screaming my name, her body arching off the bed as she cums, holding my head against her cunt
I don't stop sucking, making sure she feels the pleasure throughout her orgasm, her pussy pulsing so hard around my fingers, soaking my hand
Feels so good
When she finishes, I slide my tongue down as I pull my fingers out
Licking around her hole, her cum hits my tongue and I moan from how absolutely sweet she tastes
Opening her legs more, I run my tongue on her more, swallowing her creamy cum
God, she's so good
How is she this good?
Fuck
When I get everything, I don't stop licking her, sliding my tongue up between her swollen lips then lavishing her clit again before sliding back down
"Kkk... Kookie..."
"Need more"
"Huh?"
"Need more of you", I tell her between licks
My god her pussy is so soft against my tongue, so fucking wet
I love it
"You do?"
"Oh yeah baby", I answer, running my tongue along her slit, "You taste so fucking good baby. I need more"
"Jesus", she whispers, only making me chuckle
"I need you to cum in my mouth baby so I can swallow you're yummy cream"
"What?", she squeaks
"Oh yeah baby", I continue, swirling my tongue around her little hole, "Your cum tastes amazing and I need more"
"Fuck"
"Gonna give it to me?", I ask, poking my tongue into her hole, wiggling inside her
"Yes! Yes Kookie!", she cries, her body arching again
God that sight it so fucking beautiful, it's burned in my memory
Pulling my tongue out, I lick up her cunt then plunge my tongue back in, her cries so fucking beautiful
Her fingers twist in my hair hard as I tongue fuck her, my own hands on her thighs, keeping her legs spread wide open for me
Her cunt throbs around my tongue each time I dive into her, the pulses going straight to my dick
I'm so fucking horny and I need to fuck her soon
I need to know what it's like to be inside her
Soon, I tell myself, soon
The next plunge in her cunt sends her over the edge, her pussy squeezing my tongue as she cums all over it
"Jungkook! Jungkook!"
I'm hit with her delicious taste, moaning as I keep swallowing until I'm sure I get it all
So good
I give her one long lick after she finishes, then move away
She starts to sit up, but I move over her, gently pushing her back down
"But don't you want-"
I shake my head as I get her legs around me, "Not now baby. I'm fucking dying to be inside you"
She smirks, moving her arms around my back, pulling me on top of her, skin to skin
Fuck, she feels so soft, so smooth against me
"Is that so?", she asks, lifting her head, kissing my cheek
I nod, "Want you so bad baby"
"Then it's good I want you just as badly"
"Yeah?", I ask shyly
I have been very vocal about wanting to fuck her and I'm glad she feels the same about me
Her hand moves between us, wrapping around my dick
"Fuck, so big baby", she murmurs, stroking me, pleasure entering my body, "Are you gonna fit?"
I nod, moaning softly, "Yeah baby. I'm gonna stretch you out so good. Make you fit around me"
"Promise?", she smiles
"Promise baby", I agree
She moves my cock to her hole just as her lips crash against mine
I push in, my head slipping inside her
She drenches me as I move in inch by inch, spreading her unbelievably tight pussy around my cock
"Jungkook! Fuck!", she moans, her pussy taking my cock so well
God she feels so good, sucking me in as I move
Fuck
"Oh fuck, yes baby", I moan when I finally slide all inside her tight pussy, my body actually shaking
"Kookie, oh god, Kookie!", she cries, her body pressed right against mine, clinging onto me
"Fuck, you're even better than I imagined", I murmur
"Imagined?", she whimpers quietly
Smiling at her, I nod, "Yeah. If you don't think I fantasized about having your sweet pussy wrapped around my cock all the damn time then you're crazy"
Her entire face flushes pink and it's so cute
"Is...is it just like you imagined?"
"Better", I tell her, "So much better baby"
She smiles shyly, "You're better than I imagined too"
I smile wider, proud that she thought of us together
At least I wasn't the only one
Kissing her, I start moving, pulling back then plunging back in
"Oh my fucking god", I moan, feeling her spread open so pleasurably, pulsing hard when I'm all in, "Oh baby fuck"
Her pussy is so loud, the wet slippery noises of my cock fucking her so fucking pretty to listen to
I need more
I need to go deeper
Moving my arms under her legs, I push them to her chest, getting on my knees and pounding into her cunt at a rapid speed
I get in so much deeper, slamming into her spot, her screams getting louder and louder, feeling out of this world
When I look down, I see her cunt creaming my cock so much, it's fucking all over
I have never seen a pussy this creamy, not even in porn
And it's all mine
All fucking mine
Each pound into her cunt splits her open on my dick as I move harder and harder, the sound of our skin slapping mixing with the sound of her squelching pussy
Something I'm so excited to listen to every day
With each move inside her, I watch her stomach bulge, so turned on knowing my cock is that deep inside her
"Do you feel how we were made for each other?", I ask her as I fuck into her, "Do you feel how my cock was meant to be inside you? How your pussy was made to be wrapped around my cock and only mine?"
"Yes", she cries, her fingers gripping my arms so hard, her eyes closed, face in pleasure
"Do you feel how I was made to move inside you baby?"
"Yes Jungkook", she moans, "Yes baby"
"You were made for me baby. Everything about you, you were meant for me", I tell her, really believing that, "And I was made for you Jo. Just for you"
She nods in agreement, "Yes Kookie. Just for you baby"
"I love you", I tell her
Her eyes open and I can see the love for me in them
It's truly aweing
"I love you Jungkook"
Crashing my lips to hers, I soak in her words, her kiss and I'm utterly happy
Her pussy clamps down hard around me, pulsing at the speed of light and I know she's close
"Cum for me baby. Cum for my cock", I murmur, pressing kisses into her neck, listening to her moan my name over and over
This is something I can get used to every fucking day
"Oh my god, Kookie", she cries, her fingers digging into my arms as she clenches my cock in a death grip, coming so fucking beautifully
I watch her, mesmerized while unbelievable pleasure hits me hard
"Jungkook! Jungkook!", she cries, her small body shaking against me
Fucking hell, it feels so good
So goddamn good
I'm ready to explode but I push back my orgasm
I'm not ready to be out of her pussy yet
Thrusting into her, I fuck her through her orgasm, her body relaxing when she's finished
"Good baby?", I smile
"Amazing", she says, breathing hard as she struggles to sit up
"Baby-", I start
"Wanna ride you", she says and I nod, so down for that
Pulling out, I let her push me down on my back, watching her climb in my lap
I'm so fucking excited as I realize I get to watch her body as she fucks me
Oh my god this is going to be amazing
I watch her get my head in her hole, then watch her hole spread and strain as she slides down my cock
There's so much fucking cream pouring from her cunt, her pussy only getting wetter the more she takes me
She finally bottoms me out, sitting on me, her hips immediately rocking on me
The tight grip around my cock feeling absolutely perfect, her throbbing increasing the more she grinds on me
"Fuck baby, this pussy feels so good", I murmur, placing my hands on her hips and slowly moving them up her body
I love touching her skin, feeling her muscles underneath
Such a turn on
"Mmm baby", she whimpers, "Love your hands on me baby"
"Don't worry baby" I assure her, "I'm good to be touching you every single day, just feeling your pretty skin, your pretty body"
"Mm", she murmurs, leaning back on my legs
Her hips lift, sliding up my cock, leaving a glistening mess on my length
It's so fucking pretty
She slides down quickly, taking me all in right away and I can't help but yell in pleasure when I'm back inside her
She keeps moving, her bounces getting harder and faster with each one
I watch my perfect girlfriend ride me, her boobs bouncing in my face, a light sheen of sweat all over her, pleasure in her face
I'm so fucking lucky she's mine
So lucky
Gripping her hips, I fall into the feeling of her pussy engulfing my cock, the spasms, the way she soaks me, a pretty ring of cream forming around the base of my cock
I'm in heaven
"Promise you'll bounce on my cock like this everyday baby", I murmur
"I promise", she moans, riding me harder, her pussy clinging to my length in a vice grip
"I promise I'll fuck you everyday", I promise her, "I'll eat your pussy everyday baby. I promise"
"Yeah Kookie", she whimpers, her cunt so close to coming
"I'll fill your cunt with my cum everyday"
"Yes Kookie. Want that so much", she moans, "Fuck, wanna be full of you. Full of your cock, full of your cum"
"You will be baby. I promise", I breathe, sweat rolling down my face
She slams down, my head rubbing her spot and she screams my name as she cums
Her hands grab my wrists, my entire lap flooded
Looking down, I realize she's squirting on my cock and that sight sends me over the edge
"I'm gonna cum!", I yell
"Inside my pussy! Fill me baby", she cries
I grab her waist, pulling her down on me as ecstacy tidal waves over me, shooting my cum into her squirting pussy
"Oh my fucking god! Joanne! Oh fuck!", I yell, stars blasting in my eyes from the sheer bliss
I can't...it's never felt this good before
Never
My body shakes hard and I'm just lost in the pleasure
Lost in her
I come back from that intense orgasm to kisses on my face and her voice murmuring, "I love you" over and over
I move my arms around her, hugging her to me, whispering, "I love you Jo"
She smiles, gives me a soft kiss, then moves off me, laying next to me
Turning to face her, I pull her into my arms, cuddling into her
She giggles, her arm wrapping around my body in a hug
Looking down at her, I smile widely
"What?", she asks
"Afterglow", I tease
She bursts out laughing, "You dork!"
I chuckle, nuzzling into her neck, giving her soft kisses, "That's your dork"
"Yeah mine", she giggles, "All mine"
"Fuck baby, you have no idea how happy you make me when you say that. I never thought you'd be mine Jo"
"I am", she assures me, "And you're my Kookie"
"Always baby", I promise, gently pressing my lips against hers
After the kiss, she snuggles into me and I'm having the best fucking time, holding her tightly
"Cuddle time", she says so adorably
"Yeah baby. All cuddles all the time"
Her musical laughter fills the room and I know I'll never tire of hearing it
"Nap time?", she asks, making me laugh
"Yeah baby but first I have to ask you something"
"Mm what is it?"
"Well it's about the song"
"What about it?"
I've been thinking about this since I recorded the song and I really hope she goes for it
"I want you to be in the music video"
Her eyes shoot open, her mouth dropping, "What?"
"I want you to be in the music video with me", I repeat, "The managers, director and I were talking about the video and we all agreed that there should be a girl in it with me"
"But doesn't the director already have someone? An actress?"
I nod, "Yeah, he does but I asked him to hold off on contacting the actress. I told him I had someone in mind but I had to ask first"
"I...I don't know what to say"
"Say yes baby", I ask, "I just, I want you in the video. It's a song for you, about you baby. I don't want to pretend to sing it to an actress. I want you"
She bites her lip hesitantly, "But Kookie, won't ARMYS ask you who I am? Who the girl is in the video? I'm not a well known actress that they will recognize. I don't want it to cause problems for you"
I know why she's worried
I know ARMYS would get mad about a girl in the video
I see the ridiculous comments some leave about how they'll stop supporting me if a girl is in the video
Or how upset and hurt they would be
It's ridiculous
I'm not allowed to have someone special but they can?
It's not fair and to be honest I don't care if they're mad
I'm not sixteen anymore
I'm not a sheltered baby
And if I want my girlfriend in my music video I damn well will
If she agrees of course
"Baby, when they ask me that I'm going to tell them the truth"
"The truth?", she gapes
"Yes", I nod, "I'm going to tell them you're my girlfriend and that I'm ridiculously in love with you"
"Kookie, you can't-"
"Yes baby, I can", I say gently, "I don't care if they get mad. I'm not going to lie to them either. They either support me or they don't. But I'm not hiding you. Not a chance in hell"
She doesn't say anything, shock over her face
"So will you be in my music video?"
A small smile forms on her face as she nods, "Yeah baby. Ok"
A huge relief washes over me
"Thanks baby", I say, then give her a kiss
"Just don't blame me if you're career tanks after this", she mumbles
"I won't", I laugh, "Don't worry so much baby. As long as we're together, everything will be fine"
She giggles, nodding, settling into my arms, "Ok Kookie. I love you"
"I love you too baby"
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The fandom overall seems split in their opinion of this fella:
One one side, there has been so much commentary offering sympathy and love for this poor, currently pathetic rat man.
Of course, when using the word 'pathetic,' one might also include the archaic sense - he arouses pity, even if there is a connotation of contempt.
As noted, many have gone to great lengths in illustrating how he fits this definition. Some of their examples (their own commentaries and material directly from the actors and crew) have really hit home, and present a further glimpse into the man's tortured soul.
Primarily in their analyses to his relationship with Blackbeard.
From recollection, Con O’Neill has made at least two comparisons that have resonate brilliantly with his stans:
1) Judas’ relationship with Jesus in Jesus Christ Superstar.
2) Losing one’s best friend to someone else.
The former is a story familiar to quite a few people - Judas Iscariot started out as a follower of the prophet Jesus, but he ultimately betrayed the man he served and loved to the authorities which eventually got them both killed.
In the musical, Judas does this because he’s worried that Jesus is out of control and that his leadership would lead to the group’s destruction.
Another (probably more 'biblical') version presents him as a greedy, Satan-possessed bastard who just wants cash in hand, and he later regrets it when 'the devil leaves him.'
Yet another interpretation is that (to Judas and many of Jesus’ followers) the idea of a Messiah is a person who will incite revolution against their oppressors (in this case the Roman Empire); but Jesus takes an entirely different path than what was expected of someone with that title. So maybe Judas was disillusioned, or he got spooked, or he thought that his actions could incite a man he admired into choosing a different course.
The Taking of Christ (1602) by Caravaggio
Whatever the reason, Judas' name remains synonymous with very concept of ‘betrayal,’ especially in regards to betraying a trusting friend/mentor/leader figure.
So... yep. That fits.
Regarding the second point, Con more or less compared it to the circumstance of being incredibly lonely, then gaining a close friend only to subsequently watch them prefer to hang out with someone else.
In this case, at least from Izzy's point of view, it almost turns the Judas metaphor on its head, making Blackbeard the Judas betrayer to Izzy’s… well, 'Jesus' in so many words.
Guy does kinda have a bit of a god complex.
And that god complex has Izzy trying so very hard to be boss.
He’s an extremely capable person in many ways from what we’ve seen so far – an excellent swordsman, definitely knows his way around a ship, and practically the Head PR Representative to the Blackbeard brand (promoting Ed’s title and making excuses for his depressive states).
But where Izzy falls short is a lack of strong leadership skills. They’re not bad so to speak, but the crew clearly hates him. He’s harsh, he makes people miserable, and if there’s any shred of kindness or compassion in him, he has to hide it. He puts up such a rough and tough front that many in the fandom interpret as a fear of inadequacy or an overblown sense of machoism (which amounts to the same thing).
More than likely this is because life has taught him to behave that way.
Israel Hands probably was raised in a world that forced him to either eat or be eaten.
Which makes the second point even more loaded when taking into consideration just to whom Izzy is losing Blackbeard-
This guy.
Izzy a man of some learning, that much we can discern, but it’s highly doubtful that he grew up in a family of the same means as Stede Fuckin Bonnet.
Izzy has reached so high to the top as he thinks he can go - the right Hands and personal confidant of Captain Blackbeard himself, even having the privilege of addressing Blackbeard by his first name.
Then comes along a ridiculous fop who not only manages to outsmart him on their first meeting but takes away his idol within only a few weeks of knowing him.
This soft-handed, smiling, upbeat ray of sunshine represents everything Izzy has been taught is weak and pitiful, and yet Izzy’s idol (and quite possibly the man he loves) is enamored with him.
In addition to all his faults, Stede Bonnet seems like a rich twat who’s gotten anything and everything he wants in life because of his privilege. He can literally afford to leave his cushy life and play dress up on a well-furnished ship.
Izzy’s cruel reality is Stede’s deluded fantasy.
In short, rich-boy Stede Bonnet effortlessly gets everything that Izzy can never seem to reach, no matter how hard he tries or what strides he makes.
Not that any of this excuses Izzy's pettiness or betrayal by a long shot, but honestly who wouldn’t be driven bat-shit crazy by that?
In any case, applause to the fandom's insights on this, and especially to Con O’Neill for being such a professional.
Slay, queen.
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okay i just talked to every NPC in veilstone because it's been a long time and man sinnoh's NPCs are peak, at least out of the 2D games i feel like they provide the most humor and the most random lore tidbits and stuff. i love this region. i'm going to talk about it
first off sinnoh is full of little things like this. random dialogue/flavor text that ties back to the mythos of the region. i love how widespread the sinnoh myths are
i'm also obsessed with when there's two NPCs that link together like this. you talk to one and you move on and then you talk to another and you're like oh! lmao. by the way the rage candy bars being here is cool because sinnoh is canonically connected to johto through the sinjoh ruins and the rage candy bars are from johto, which means they're imported and sold here. in general i'm obsessed with the locations in pokemon that have special treats associated with them, like the pewter crunchies of pewter city in kanto, or the lava cookies from lavaridge in hoenn. iconic
btw don't worry lady literally everyone sucks at making poffins. unless you have four players it's pretty much impossible to make poffins that are better than the storebought ones. good luck getting four people with rare berries who are good at the minigame to play with you, ESPECIALLY in 2023 jesus christ. the basement poffins are OPTIMAL
anyway in speaking of linking NPCs, these two - i wonder if the dialogue in the french version of this game is turned into english? they did that for lt. surge's french pikachu trade, the french versions of HGSS make the pikachu english instead lol. but anyway as usual it's very fascinating to me how much pokemon loves to drop foreign language in its titles, and fittingly i know a lot of people with english as their second language got interested in learning english from a young age due to wanting to play pokemon. how many kids do you think got interested in french because of dialogue like this. the girl even implies what the meaning of his words is
veilstone isn't short on game hints either, useless to me now as an adult longterm pokemon player who knows all this stuff already but still really cool to see. if sinnoh is your first time playing pokemon, those hints on trade evos and stuff are always appreciated.
of course, funny dialogue too that got a wheeze out of my nose, not uncommon for pokemon NPC dialogue SDKFSFDK some of this shit takes me so offguard it's like extra funny
like GIRL ISN'T THAT WHAT A PARASOL IS FOR????
edit: my DUMB ASS (lighthearted) has been reminded that parasols are for the sun and are NOT an umbrella equivalent. okay she makes more sense now LOOL
also LOOKER JUSTIFYING HIS GAMBLING :skull emoji: this shit is taking me out. see this is useful because it's like oh galactic is really all over this city huh. not only their massive building but they have their logo in the fucking slot machines, they probably have some amount of ownership over this place like team rocket did over the celadon game corner. but also it's funny because SDFSDFK
OH AND MAYLENE'S DAD IS JUST... HERE? generic NPC. generic sprite. no name. he's just here. maylene's dad. you know, one of the gym leaders. help girl
anyways i'm aware i basically just posted most of the dialogue in veilstone city verbatim but I JUST THINK IT'S INTERESTING! I MISS WHEN POKEMON GAMES WERE FULL OF DIALOGUE LIKE THIS AHHHH i have more to say about the galactic lore but i'm running out of image space and i need to use the bathroom and get some food so i'll post about that a little later
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When Crowley met Jesus, and the other demon at Golgotha
You know the scene. 33AD. Aziraphale is watching the crucifixion take place and certain fem-presenting demon sidles up to him.
Aziraphale greets them, and finds out they have changed their name.
"What is it now?" he asks them. " Mephistopheles? Asmodeus?"
I know most you have learnt by now that Asmodeus is the demon of lust, and this is obviously Aziraphale's idea of a flirty little joke (perhaps the first we see? because he's the one who's really as "mad as bag of frogs" after all and that's why Crowley's made an appearance, because he was probably just in the area, you know...), but I haven't seen or come across much meta about the first suggested name, which is a GO "lead balloon" moment.
Mephistopheles, Aziraphale? That's the name you thought of here? Of all places? jfc...you bad, bad angel! lmoa! This is a serious, sombre situation you are witnessing!
Mephistopheles is the name of the fictional demon sent to do a deal with the character Faust in a story that dates back to Germany in the early 1500s. Faust was a like a scientist in his day, well educated in things like alchemy and astrology and other mystical arts, maybe even having wizard powers (why not?) But he was hungry for more power so he did a deal with the devil for 24 years of assistance to achieve and gain anything he desired, and at the end of that time he would be claimed by Hell. Needless to say, despite starting off well it didn't have a happy ending. (I wont go into details as there are lots of variants, and its not that short, and they aren't all that relevant to the point of the post.)
It has been a hugely influential story ever since, appearing in many forms over the years; in opera, theater, movies, novels, adaptations such as Oscar Wilde's The Portrait of Dorian Grey, and Queen's famous song Bohemian Rhapsody. Terry Pratchett also did a parody of it in his 1990 book Eric, and readers have often noted the similarity to the Hell depicted there to the Hell in GO.
Its the origin of the idiom "to do a deal with the devil" and a Faustian bargain. The mortals that enter into the deal with a powerful supernatural entity are usually set up to fail, and we go along with it because we are so used to the trope, its one we've come to expect the bargainer to fail in some spectacular fashion. It's one that keeps being repeated again and again because it so interesting to explore - often the protagonist is looking for some form of happiness, sometimes revenge, and hopes the deal will deliver, but find out the hard way that they should be careful what they wish for because the delivery is a two-edged sword. They may find out that they don't actually want what they thought they wanted, or they get what they want in an very unexpected way.
Back to Golgotha, and our demon and angel. We learn the demon has merely modified their name to Crowley. And yes, they met Jesus.
C: "Seemed a very bright young man. I showed him all the kingdoms of the world."
A: "Why?"
C: "He's a carpenter from Galilee, his travel opportunities are limited."
This is a reference to one of the the tests of faith Jesus was put through before his crucifixion, from the Book of Matthew.
I like this modern version I found:
For the third test, the Devil took him to the peak of a huge mountain. He gestured expansively, pointing out all the earth’s kingdoms, how glorious they all were. Then he said, “They’re yours—lock, stock, and barrel. Just go down on your knees and worship me, and they’re yours.” Jesus’ refusal was curt: “Beat it, Satan!” He backed his rebuke with a third quotation from Deuteronomy: “Worship the Lord your God, and only him. Serve him with absolute single-heartedness.” The Test was over. The Devil left. And in his place, angels! Angels came and took care of Jesus’ needs. Matthew 4:8-11 The Message
Or, you could say: Crowley showed Jesus all the kingdoms of the world, and offered the bargain that he could rule them all if he would renounce God and worship Satan instead, but Jesus just turned to the demonic messenger and simply told him to "fuck off!"
And there we have it, folks. Mephistopheles, and Asmodeus. Touche, Aziraphale, you sly little shit stirrer.
#good omens#good omens meta#aziraphale#crowley#hard times#golgotha#asmodeus#mephistopheles#faust#all the kingdoms of the world#going along with Hell as far as you can#faustian bargains#doing a deal with the devil#you bad bad angel aziraphale#this is no time to be flirting and cracking jokes with your demon
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RWRB movie thoughts (SPOILER HEAVY!)
So, I watched it. Twice. And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.
First off, non-spoilers - I loved this movie. I loved the energy, I loved the humor, I loved the chemistry between all of the actors. Taylor and Nick in particular had phenomenal chemistry and I can't stop thinking about them and firstprince and how beautiful it all was. I miss the boys already. 😭
SPOILERS!!
I'm gonna get the (incredibly minor) gripes out of the way.
We got cornbread!! But we didn't get "cornbread knows my sins" which I was a little bummed about. But the beauty of the scene as a whole absolutely made up for it.
The lack of the emotional kiss after the fight really bugged me, because to me, that kiss is the breaking point for them both. That's the "gonna love this stubborn shithead forever" moment, and it's all of the tension and pain and heartbreak poured out into a desperate, hungry, incredibly passionate kiss. going right from "tell me to leave" to the V&A felt a little like mood whiplash, but the V&A scene is so good I can get past it pretty easily
I wish we could have had more of their emails, the phone call where Henry begins to open up about his family, and more pet names. Especially more baby, considering how much that one word affects Henry in the book.
I know why Matthew did it but fuck Miguel, I miss Rafael and Liam
WE NEEDED MORE PEZ, NORA, AND BEA
Now, for my favorite quotes/moments!!
"I'd break the sound barrier for you." when i tell you i fucking screamed into a pillow and sobbed
HISTORY HUH BEING SAID AT THE V&A, I LOVED IT SO MUCH, I SQUEALED AUDIBLY
THE CAKE SCENE, 10/10
Zahra and Amy are the absolute fucking best and were truly able to shine in a way I didn't expect, I'm so glad we got so many great scenes
"I will brexit your head from your body" I know it was in the trailer but it's SO FUCKING FUNNY
The texting scenes were done so well?? I loved hearing their voices saying the lines and I loved the way they portrayed the long distance conversations. The turkey scene in particular is fucking cinema
THE MOTHERFUCKING RED ROOM SCENE. NEED I SAY MORE.
THE SCENE RIGHT AFTER?? AND THEN THE ONE IN ALEX'S ROOM?? I'M FUCKING WEAK, MAN. THEIR CHEMISTRY IS OFF THE CHARTS
The closet scene was SO good. Watching Alex's entire perception of the man change in a matter of minutes is so well done, and Henry realizing that Alex's feelings about it all were completely valid & apologizing is so 10/10
jesus fuck, PARIS. OH MY GOD. The cafe scene, the one where they're taking a walk, and then their first time having sex. It's so beautiful and emotional and i just... I was breathless watching it. It's steamy but it's just beautiful and loving and the way alex and henry are just so enamored with each other absolutely destroyed me.
"You don't know what that's like." "I'm learning." SOBBING
the entire new year's eve sequence was wonderful. Henry's so happy when he's with Alex and Alex is just so happy he's there, and then that fucking SHOT?? The way they're just staring at each other across the crowded room?? C I N E M A
The first kiss was STRAIGHT OUT OF THE BOOK and it was MAGICAL
Nora is a queen and deserved more screentime but I LOVE her scenes with Alex. I think having her not be his ex in this version is a nice change too
And, of course, the motherfucking STORMING OF KENSINGTON. The boys acted their asses off and Nick in particular broke my heart so many times over
The leak. The leaaaaak. fuck.
"Hello?" "Baby." "Alex??" when i tell you i cried so hard
the piano scene 10/10
THE SCENE WHERE THEY COME OUT TO THE CROWD. THE ENTIRE END TBH
CASEYYY!!!!!!
So, yeah. I loved this movie. I'm gonna be thinking about it for a long time, and I sincerely hope Matthew releases the extended cut & all of the deleted scenes and bloopers, because we NEED THEM.
I also hope that Matthew, Casey, Nick, and Taylor know how much we love this film and book. How thankful we are that these beautiful characters were not only written, but then able to come to life. I will forever be thankful for Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor (yes, i'm using his book last name LMAO) and for their beautiful love.
#rwrb#lgbtqia#henry x alex#boys in love#alex x henry#casey mcquiston#henry fox mountchristen windsor#firstprince#alex claremont diaz#love#rwrb movie#red white and royal blue#red white and royal blue movie#nicholas galitzine#taylor zakhar perez#matthew lopez#rwrb review#rwrb thoughts#history huh
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Ciel meeting his descendant
➸ Characters: Ciel, PhantomHive, mentions of Elizabeth, Zane, Wequin, F! Ciel
➸ Black Butler/ Kuroshitsuji
➸ Summary: you and Sebastian who is now called Zane were doing your regular thing of drinking Monster and scrolling through tiktoks when you get bored and Zane decides to dress you up in clothing of his old master he preserved perfectly in amazing condition...While dressing up, two people end up in your house, your grandfather and you're brother's older version...
➸ Author's note: I changed Sebastian's name to Zane cause he's now a Gen Z...Also cause why not??? And Zane is a annoying bastard. ALso Ciel form 2023 will be referred to as F! Ciel and past Ciel as P! Ciel if the two are in the same scene, otherwise they will referred to as Ciel only <3333 || Sebastian (Zane) has a angel boyfriend cause Angels and demons are okay now and demons evolved and so they can taste food, normally but on very rare occasion will need a soul..
❂ You and Sebastian, or Zane as he was called now, were sitting on your bed, both wearing cat hairbands and wearing sheet masks on your faces as you both were doing your things on your electronic device while you both gossiped and ate/drank your favorite snacks and drinks. Monster, obviously! You looked up as took a sip from the can, telling Sebastian (Zane) “Zane, I’m bored!!!!” making Sebastian (Zane) look up, with a mischievous look in his eyes, “Alright, let’s do something else, yeah?” He said as she shut his phone and smirked, “But what are we gonna do???” You asked, putting shutting your device as well.
“How about I dress you up, I mean I stayed on this earth for longer than Jesus, maybe, so I have some dresses preserved in my room, because it’s like a memento of my masters and your family!” Sebastian (Zane) said, nonchalantly, as he took a sip from the can looking at you uninterestly. “Alright, why not?” You said as you got off the bed and took off your sheet mask and put your monster can on the bed-side table.
Sebastian (Zane) jumped out of bed and you both walked to his room while judging how people looked at this year’s met-gala. Finally reaching his room, he lifted his bed under which there was another room, “Whoa, what’s that??? A secret room??” You asked pointing towards the staircase towards the under room, “No shit Sherlock!” Sebastian (Zane) said as he slapped your head form the back. You cursed him under your breath as you followed him down the stairway where there were many dresses, suits, costumes and much more.
Sebastian (Zane) put you like a doll into many outfits, most of them being large, but still they were comfortable, until he put you in a costume, it had a light-blue and dark blue vest, with black shorts which had a gold trim which had a pendant hanging from its belt bands, like chains on jeans. It had thigh-high stockings with a gold trim on the top of it similar to the shorts and a blue pendant shape in the middle of the trim. It had a large, blowy cape which was black from the outside and had soft white material on the inside and it fit you perfectly, as you walked out
When you came out, Zane snorted making you look up as he smirked and said, “Well, at-least bocchan used to look good in it when he wore it at the cooking competition, you make it look like my old master’s circus outfit….No wonder you look like a clown”
When he said that, you immediately shoved your middle finger in his face with a soft smile on your face as he did the same all with a handsome gentle smile. While you both glared at each-other with your middle fingers still shoved into each-other’s face, you both saw from the edge of your eyes, a man fall from the ceiling and onto his feet gracefully as he caught a young boy around your age in his arms, as the boy continuously hit him.
You both still didn’t take your fingers out of each-other’s face as you both turned your head to look at the two figures in your house. As they stared at you, Zane’s other hand went in his back pocket and pulled out a taser, as he smiled innocently, “Omg hi!!” you said as the two look at you, Zane said, “The man’s a demon, Y/N…Stop…”
“You’re a demon too! Aren’t you…” the man in the suit said, “Of-course I am…” Zane said bored as he put the lipstick taser back into his back pocket of his sweatpants…
“Who are you both?! AND WHERE ARE WE?! AND WHY ARE YOU IN MY CLOTHES?!” the little boy yelled loudly making you wave and say, “Omg….” As you side-eyed the two…”Uhm, I’m Y/N Phantomhive and this is my…..bitch, His name is Zane…Zane say “Hi!” come one!” You say as you urged Zane like a little puppy…”What??” the little boy asked, “I’m Ciel Phantomhive, WHO ARE YOU?!” he asked loudly
“Ugh, I’m not repeating myself..” you say getting away and putting your hand in your pockets but failing cause you weren’t wearing your clothes “Okay, who are you both, I won’t repeat myself. Why are we here?” the man asked as Zane walked towards them as he looked at the man in the suit and the kid before saying, “Goddamn, I looked so emo…For what??” Zane said as you came near them and said, “Oh, it’s you?? Well you looked like skrunkly!! But it’s not like you aren’t emo now!” you say smiling at them. Zane shoved another middle finger in your face and yelled, “Fuck you, you dumbfuck…” “Ememememem, dumfek” you say mimicking Zane in a high-pitched voice as you go to change the clothing…
“You’re me?? How? I’m here!” Sebastian said, “Well, it’s because you’re in the future, nice to meet you, I’m Zane Phantomhive!!” Zane said offering his hand to Sebastian and Ciel. “No? Okay fine!” Zane said taking his hand back as he put his hands in his hoodie’s pocket. Well Sebastian surely won’t be able to recognize himself now, his hair was now in a wolf cut and a bit shorter, his eyes were grey, his nails were decorate in black and gold manicures and his eyes had eye-bags, probably form drinking enough caffeine to kill a horse and watching tiktoks in darkness at 4 at night.
“Why do you look like this?? And you shouldn’t curse” Sebastian said in disgust as Ciel asked, “Why was that girl wearing my clothes???” making Zane sigh as he answered their questions, “Well that girl is your grand, grand, grand, grand, grand, grand, gra-“ “OKAY, WE GET IT!!” Ciel says annoyed,
“She’s your descendant! I was dressing her up” Zane said as he turned to look at himself and said, “And I’m like this because it’s 0223 and my body my choice!” “Liar! You drink caffeine and watch tiktoks for hours on end!” You say as you walk out and go towards them
“SHUT THE FUCK UP! I’LL EAT ALL YOUR HAPPY MEALS!” Zane threatened pointing towards you making you dramatically gasp as your grasped your chest with one of your hands, “I’LL BREAK YOUR BACK IF YOU DO TH-Oh wait! Your boyfriend already did that, didn’t he??” You say as you gagged…
“At-least I have bitches, unlike you!” Zane said as showed you a middle finger. As Sebastian looked at you both in horror and rage while Ciel had a smirk on his face, at-least his descendant knew what she was doing!
“Don’t make me show your boyfriend those 2000s emo photos of yours!” You threaten making Zane grumble and sigh… As Sebastian asked, “How come I don’t have any mannerisms when I’m older…”
You and Zane ignored that as Ciel asked, “Now, tell me about yourself!”
You for the first time during this moment you felt shy in front of your ancestor, he was at such a young age a pretty smart person while you still belie there is a monster under your stairs who will come for you and Zane and so you run whenever you turn off the kitchen light.
“Uhm, so I’m the currently one of the youngest child of the family, I heard a lot about you. The Funtom business is being handled by Zane, because he’s the elder one of the family and I’m still in school…The PhantomHive manor is now a museum…” You explain fumbling with Zane’s finger as you held his hand…
“That’s because the Victorian era is when you could marry your cousins and maybe you still can, but marrying your cousins is kinda disgusting…Als-” Zane comments, but before he could complete his phone starts ringing as you and Zane both excitedly ran outside to open the door of the house and open the door to see a guy taller than Sebastian who had grey hair and pretty dark eyes and F!Ciel holding a puppy in his hands. Zane pounced onto the tall guy while you took the puppy in his hand
“We got him a pup cup from Starbucks!” F!Ciel says smiling as you patted and kissed the puppy a bit. Ciel and Sebastian from the past same outside seeing you both so excited,
“Oh, is that why you asked us to bring more McDonalds???” the tall guy who had Zane on his lap asked you smiling soft and innocently, “Yeah, thanks for that Wequin!” you thank him as you place the puppy down and let it run around your feet as F! Ciel digs around in the bag and gets out the pup cup and picks up the puppy as you and F! Ciel, take everything and sit down on the carpeted floor of the drawing room. P! Ciel and Sebastian were watching everything as they stared in confusion and surprise. As you both sat down you invite P! Ciel and Sebastian to sit down with you, as Zane gave them a quick change of clothes because they looked uncomfortable in them formal clothing.
As you, Zane, Wequin, two Ciels and Sebastian were sitting on the floor. You and F! Ciel began fighting on what to watch, Harry Potter or a horror movie.
“But I wanna watch Harry Potter!!!”
“We have to go out of our comfort zone!!!”
“I don’t want to, it’s 4 at night and I wanna be safe!!!”
“Stop being a baby!!”
As you both continued to bicker back and forth, Zane started to get angry as he rubbed his nose-bridge, but when you both still continued, Zane lost it and,
“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND CHOOSE ONE!!!” Zane yelled as Sebastian stared in annoyance
“Babe, calm down, they’re kids!” Wequin tried to pat Zane’s head calm him down, yet Zane scoffed and said, “Well. No more, Ciel over there is a little bit over 100 now, and Y/N is (y/g), I think they’re no longer kids! To act this immature, I’m hungry, just put on Harry potter and let’s watch it!” As you and F! Ciel looked down at each-other side-eyeing Zane. “It’s the anger issues for me..” F! Ciel whispered under his breathe, “Honestly tho, it’s giving, “I’m be the Karen of this family cause I’m the eldest and others should listen to me…”, don’t it?” You whispered back to F! Ciel who nodded his head.
As everyone now finally finished their food, F! Ciel offered to play video games, with which Zane agreed as you went on your phone and scrolled through, Sebastian was putting P!Ciel to sleep in a guest room you provided. As Sebastian came back, he asked question which you, F! Ciel and Zane answered as truthfully as possible, at the end of the night with Wequin asleep on Zane’s lap, Ciel and you cuddling and watching movies to spend the night together, while Sebastian watched the movies along-side you, I guess, maybe the future was chaotic and filled with curse words but at-least, it was good future…Right?
#kuroshitsuji#black butler#black butler headcanons#black butler anime#black butler x reader#black butler x you#black butler x y/n#black butler x female reader#kuroshitsuji x reader#kuroshitsuji fanfiction#platonic x reader#black butler ciel phantomhive#ciel phantomhive icons#black butler ciel#ciel phantomhive#sebastian michaelis fanart#kuroshitsuji sebastian#black butler sebastian#sebastian michaelis#sebastian#black butler manga#Thank you for requesting this!!!#sebastian michaelis imagine#sebastian michaelis x oc#sebastian michaelis headcanons#sebastian michaelis platonic
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Make it hurt
Thomas Hewitt x reader
*edited english version*
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
It was a hot Saturday afternoon
The 3:00 pm sun was shining brightly, but occasionally the bright light was mercifully blocked by dark, dense clouds. It would rain soon.
Thomas was in charge of cleaning out the Hewitts' neglected old barn. Just one of the many tasks the family gave him to burden him. Luda Mae was back for her shift at the decrepit gas station, Hoyt was probably driving his stolen cruiser around, intimidating unsuspecting teenagers. And Monty was watching reruns of soap operas, as usual.
You were on the porch, brooding in thought as you shamelessly watched Thomas work. But you couldn't look away.
His toned muscles glistened with sweat and grime, his torso, bare to withstand the Texan heat, rising and falling rapidly as he heaved from the exertion. You watched him, his massive, massive body supporting the weight of a giant tire, which then dropped into the rubble pile with a loud thud. The mere thought of Thomas made your body tingle.
You mentally beat yourself up
Do you remember: Thomas and you are enemies
Ever since that day you first met the Hewitts, when they slaughtered your "friends" (who were more like idiotic traveling companions). You, unlike your peers, took advantage of your good manners early on, managing to ingratiate yourself with Luda Mae and sparing your life.
But then there was Thomas.
It was he who first caught your eye while visiting the station.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were holding a basket with some produce in it, fanning yourself with your other hand in a fruitless attempt to relieve the heat. Luda Mae watched intently as your rowdy colleagues carelessly grabbed a few items from the sparse shelves. The commotion in the shop seemed to bother the old lady, who regarded them with disdain.
You, a shy and polite young woman, greeted the woman with a sweet smile and placed the remaining items on the counter. Ears burning with embarrassment.
"Sorry about the mess ma'am, I swear we'll clean it up before we leave."
"Are these your friends?" She asked sniffing at the young people at the back of the store.
You considered the question for a few seconds. "No, just college buddies. I needed a ride to Louisiana to do some research work."
She stared at you for a long time. Shit, you struggled to maintain eye contact. She had that strict mother vibe, the look over her round glasses almost made you cringe.
"Well, I'm kind of paying for the ride, so it's not exactly a ride."
She looked at you for a few more seconds and smiled "Well, that explains how a nice young lady like you ended up here with these...children".
"E-er. Yes. Well, where's my education, my name is y/n."
"Luda Mae." She greeted with a grandmotherly smile.
"Ah, sorry to bother you again, but do you have mineral water?"
"Oh yes. We're restocking. I'll have my son bring them over.
"Fine, thanks." You smiled.
"Tommy, dear, bring the crates from the warehouse."
A few moments of silence passed before you heard a distant thump.
Footsteps echoed like an earthquake through the room, and from the back room, a huge man in a stained dress shirt and apron emerged with packages piled high in his strong arms.
Jesus Christ.
The man was built like a tractor.
Luda Mae referred to him as a child, but there was nothing childish about his composition.
You stared at him mesmerized. His unruly dark curls surrounded his strong, masculine face and fell over his massive shoulders. Until he turned to his mother. So you saw it.
There was a dark, thick mask that covered the lower part of his face. It piqued his curiosity and somehow made his figure more attractive and mysterious.
"This here is my son Thomas, he's a sweetheart, he's not very talkative, but he can take care of you just fine anyway. Thomas take care of the lady and her….friends. I need to make a call to your uncle" . She said casting one last look at you.
Your mouth was dry. The man unloaded the merchandise onto the counter, then turned to you, waiting. A few moments passed as you unconsciously studied his face, until he narrowed those blue eyes at you. You chastised yourself for the invasive action and pulled yourself together.
"Oh yes, it's nice to meet you Thomas." You stared at the linoleum floor in embarrassment. He must have misinterpreted your curiosity. You were stuck with his lack of reaction and his intimidating aura.
Yes, a love, for sure.
"I just need one of those mineral water packs…..please," you added nervously.
At a practiced pace, Thomas reached for one of the packages and cradled it for you. The rumble of your colleagues' voices ceased for a moment, until you turned and noticed their glances and whispers directed at the brute of a man at the register.
Thomas seemed to be purposely ignoring them in favor of finishing serving you as soon as possible so you could leave the store soon. But soon one of them, John, spoke up:
"Hey man, what's wrong with your face?"
Shit.
"Is this thing to cover your giant nose or something?" Said another with a shit-eating grin. His girlfriend let out a nasal laugh.
Thomas stiffened but remained silent.
"Come on, you think you're too good to talk to us?"
Crushing silence took over the place.
Thomas had his head down, trying to calmly organize the rest of his shopping into bags.
"Animal". John finished
Thomas clenched his fists. He was holding back, you saw, the fury in his red face obscured by his unruly hair. It was better to step in before something happened.
"Can you stop? What's your problem?"
"Oh come on kitten." John looped his arm around your shoulders. "Don't tell me you're going to side with that thing over us. We're partners, aren't we?" You shuddered with revulsion.
You looked at Thomas wordlessly, he looked into your startled eyes, before lowering his head again.
You were about to answer when someone interrupted.
"Well, what do we have here?"
It was a sheriff, the name "Hoyt" written on his name tag. His smile was sallow and forced as he assessed the young people in front of him.
"Who does that car parked outside belong to?"
"It's mine". Evan spoke up.
"We're taking a college trip, sheriff." Completed John
"Ah, so you can explain that to me." He held out a small package in the air.
"Damn it, Evan." The girl, Cindy, murmured to her boyfriend.
"We don't know how that got in the car, Sheriff." They looked at each other nervously.
"Well, they should know since there's weed all over the damn car." He grunted. "You guys come with me." He sucked his teeth in arrogance.
"Wait, we can't get arrested, yeah....
Hoyt pulled a gun on Evan, interrupting his plea.
"Want me to blow your brains out boy?" Evan shook his head. "Better get going then."
You risked one last guilty look at Thomas before you left, but he was gone. He must have been really upset with you.
You were escorted by Hoyt to your squad car. The discomfort of being crammed into a car like a can of sardines, suffocating you, but no one said a word the entire trip.
But instead of a police station, you were taken to the big house in a deserted area. Hoyt threw you out of the car. Before anyone could protest, the noise of a chainsaw cut through the silence, and suddenly, a tall figure approached the car.
Thomas
The sound of chains cutting through human flesh was disturbing. You watched him brutally murder every one of them. You saw him approaching his helpless figure. And suddenly, darkness.
You remember the dark, dank basement you were kept in for days, you remember recognizing Luda Mae when you were called to join a "family" dinner.
That was it, wasn't it? You were considered part of the family now.
Except for Thomas.
He still had that distrust and recent fondness for you from that day in Luda Mae's little shop.
Speaking of her, another point aroused Thomas' resentment: Luda mentioned how she would like to have a "daughter". So since you were just polite and kind to the family, she saw that role as a perfect fit for you. It didn't help that you were always disciplined and helped Luda with the housework.
A golden girl, she said.
She spoiled you, offered you dresses and treats she got in the store.
Thomas was furious.
How could they believe you so blindly? You were just like those pieces of shit that came with you. The mere mention of his name made him grind his teeth.
Over time you adapted. You learned the family routine and how to communicate with Thomas. You would watch him signing or gesturing to his mother when she asked him something. He had different ways of talking, so you understood.
You tried to approach him several times, but he snubbed you. It was just acting, he thought, you'd hope to gain the family's trust enough to run away and call the police.
You had no right to invade their lives and establish yourself as their preferred daughter. It was his home, his life, his mother.
He hated you, but he couldn't even lay his hands on you like he did the victims he took. The last time he reacted to your gentle advances with rudeness, his mother scolded him and sent him to his room.
What the fuck. He was not a child. He should NOT be treated like a bratty, insolent child. It was your fault.
In the end, you got tired too.
Tired of treating him with kindness and kindness only to be ignored and stepped on. You was tired of getting disapproving looks and snarls when you went out of your way to do something to please him. You got tired of him.
So you matched your behavior to his. Yes, it was childish. But as long as Thomas treated you with disgust and unjust hatred, you would reciprocate in kind.
It became a game between you. You two beings refused to falter around each other and give in to defeat.
Your pride and stubbornness as high as his. Neither of them would back down.
But still, there was something growing, something the two of you denied sharing.
The way Thomas looked fondly at his mother made your heart ache, the diligence he took with his work aroused your admiration, his concern for his family's welfare made you believe he was something more than a brute no compassion. His sassy way when he looked at you defiantly.
But……there was something more carnal as well. A raw and unbridled feeling that built up in you day after day. You stared at his hands and imagined how they would feel on your body, you thought of his huge body on top of your much smaller figure, his cruel and intense blue eyes focused on you with genuine interest. It made your core vibrate.
It was wrong. Outside the terms established between you.
You were upset that, without even trying, Thomas was making you lose.
The only way you've found to ease your thoughts is in your bed at night with your fingers buried in your pussy. It didn't seem like enough, but you'd have to make do. Guilt welled up as your chased your orgasm, trying to think of anything, anything other than Thomas Hewitt, but it was inevitable.
Thomas wasn't any better either. He was confused and outraged by the seething feeling you aroused in him.
He became increasingly interested in your quirks and quirky behaviors. You would be rude to him too, but never the way others have been. The slights from you would never be because of his appearance, he realized.
"Thomas let me out." He pushed you and blocked the door. "I need my things that are in the car, Luda Mae said I could get them."
"No". He grunted. "Seriously, Thomas. I'm not running away even if I wanted to. The car won't work since Hoyt screwed it up." He didn't move out of the way. You snorted and suppressed a frustrated cry. The day had been stressful enough, its time of the month had made you more sensitive and emotional. You weren't going to cry, were you?
"Damn, Thomas, you're so…"
He raised his eyebrows daring you to continue. So what? Ugly? A disgusting, scary monster? He wanted you to say, wanted you to get past that barrier so he would have a reason to…
"Irritating". You completed with a sigh. You give up your quest and turn upstairs, leaving Thomas standing in the doorway.
Sometimes he would catch himself looking at you, immediately condemning himself for the act. He would watch your face closely when you were distracted or focused on some task, your pleasant smile directed at someone other than him. He would stare at your tiny little hands getting all over the cutlery during dinner, imagining how they would feel wrapped up in something else…
Fuck. It was too much.
Often he would have to retreat from the same room you were in just to hide his growing erection. Making you imagine it was just a reaction to the revulsion he felt for you, something you were used to, but it still hurt.
Constantly he would have to seclude himself in his room, hand wrapped around his cock, masturbating at a frantic pace until the only thing on his mind was the post-orgasm haze.
In the end, the two of you carried so much guilt around that you couldn't even face each other for days.
You weren't aware of the effect you had on each other. For you Thomas still hated you with a passion, for Thomas you couldn't even bear to spare a look at his face like you did before.
Little did you know that the two lost.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You took one last peek at Thomas before stepping off the porch, heading straight into the kitchen to pour yourself two glasses of juice.
You left the house, heading towards the barn. You approached him and when you spotted Thomas and considered him for a moment.
His heavy breathing revealed how much the accumulated work of the day had exhausted him. The barn wasn't even partially empty, he wasn't going to be finished anytime soon.
You felt that twinge of pity rising in your chest. Thomas worked like a workhorse and wasn't even recognized for it.
An idea came to you.
Come on y/n, erase that thought, you're like arch enemies. You shouldn't even have come to talk to him in the first plac-
"Here". You understood one of the glasses to Thomas, who turned to you and, with a brief moment of reluctance, accepted your offering.
"It's not poisoned, if that's what you're thinking"
He growled and fixed his eyes on you just in case.
"Come on big guy, don't I get a thank you?"
He snorted again with disdain, then gulped down the cold drink greedily. You greedily watched his Adam's apple bob with every sip he took. A treacherous drop trickled down his chin, leaving a wet trail in its wake.
He was so sweaty. A few damp curls swayed heavily while others clung to his forehead and all over his warm skin. His fingers itched to pull his hair out of his face. Would he let you pull your hair back and tie it up?
Obviously not, behave y/n!
Thomas sighed with contentment and relief. But then he noticed your thoughtful expression and your eyes fixed on his face. He glared back and soon you tried to disguise the situation with a petulant look.
It was even funny. That audacious look of yours didn't suit you, your tiny size reminded him of an enraged kitten. You constantly battled your own shyness just to challenge him. Cute.
"Aren't you finished yet?"
"What do you think?"He gestured.
"Well, it would be good to finish soon." Damn, you couldn't just say what you wanted, could you?
He narrowed his eyes at you.
"Come on, I just came to offer help, don't be so proud."
He snorted in mockery.
"Look, two people are better than one at speeding up the work. I'm just trying to take a load off your ass."
"Why?"He raised one of his eyebrows in question.
"Well, because.... It's going to rain soon and Hoyt would hate to see those things soaked through when he gets back. And you know he's a pain in the ass with everyone when he gets mad."
You've always been terrible at making excuses.
He didn't insist though, just crossed his arms and shook his head.
"No?". You kind of already expected this answer. "Okay. But who said I asked your permission?"
You set the glass aside on a closer surface and brushed past Thomas before he reacted.
You started by selecting a few pieces and soon you were removing some items from the barn. Thomas sighed impatiently, knowing it was no use pushing someone as stubborn as you. So, with your help, he began to collect the materials and select those that would be stored in a shed, safe from water.
2 more hours of work and that's it. The barn was nearly empty except for a few bales of hay and a rake, which would remain in place. He had to admit, your help saved a good deal of effort and a few extra hours of work.
But of course he wouldn't admit it to you.
You.
He hasn't heard a word from you since you started on your mission to help him.
He walked back to the barn, eyes scanning around.
Until he felt your small figure hit his bare chest.
You blushed and tried to frown
"What's your problem, you didn't see me here?"
He tried to retort with a tease (something about your small stature), but soon noticed your red face and labored breathing. You were overheating, but it wasn't from the heat.
He did not understand. Thomas pulled you by the arm and made you sit on the hay ignoring your protests. Quickly he went to the mansion in search of water, returning in a minute with a full glass of liquid and delivering it in your hand.
"Hu-m thanks". You drink the contents of the glass, totally self-conscious under Thomas' intense gaze.
You finish your drink and soon an uncomfortable silence settles between you. And now?
"I told you it was better to have accepted my help from the beginning." You change the subject.
He ignores your comment, realizing that you're probably fine again.
"A thank you would be appreciated"
He grunts in disagreement rolling his eyes.
"Why do you have to be like this?" You sigh, "Can't you be nice even once?."
He shoots you a scathing look.
"I'm just saying, you should try to at least be gratefu-"
He doesn't give you a chance to finish before he approaches you, pulls you and pushes you hard against a wall.
Ouch!
He used only one of his giant hands to hold both your wrists together above your head.
Now his face is inches from yours, his hot breath making you cringe. Cerulean blues staring deep into theirs with unbridled fury.
He's asking you a question, you see.
"Who should I thank? You?".
"What the fuck is your problem, Thomas?"
The grip on your hand tightened and you writhed in pain. Your wrists would be bruised tomorrow for sure.
His patience was at an end. You, little minx, would get what you deserve.
He squeezes your throat tightly, squeezing most of the air out of your lungs.
Is this where you die?
Would you die in an old barn on some off-the-map property, at the hand of the only man you ever loved in your entire life, the one who always hated you in return for your kindnesses?
Whatever, but you're not going to die without telling the truth, without throwing it all in his goddamn face. You wanted it to hurt him like it hurt you, you wanted him to toss and turn at night thinking about how he ended the life of the only person, besides his family, who showed him compassion in life, that he had a chance to be loved, but threw it all away.
Well fuck it, here it goes
"I tried Thomas." you suffocated
"You know I tried. I-I, ?I tried to be nice to everyone, even f-for you-u." He dares you to keep going, even as his grip tightens on your windpipe.
“I've tried, hu-ghh, t-tried to get his attention, ever since I met you. He's in shock. The tightness in your throat eases and you suck in a breath.
"But you... You cough. "You hurt me the whole time." Damn it, why did you have to start crying so easily? You hated that he was watching you break down.
You were weak, weak and pathetic.
"It's no use trying to be nice to you when you act like a jerk to me, I hate that I still try to help you because I still have feelings for you, I hate the fact that you're always trying to make me unhappy when all I feel for you is admiration". He was staring at you mortified, but you're not done yet.
"I hate having to put up with this damn feeling I feel when all I wanted was to hate you completely. I don't want to feel so confused. I don't want to feel attracted to you. But I do." You sob.
"I don't want to still have to wish you around when you're just mean to me. I hate myself even more for imagining you in my bed at night. But fuck you, because you were never there."
You couldn't just shut up, the turmoil of things inside you making it all come out all at once.
"So if you want Thomas, you can kill me now, it would do me a favor t-
The brutal kiss interrupts you. Needy and hungry tongue invading your mouth aggressively. You mind's confusion and surprise melts into a puddle. You do not understand.
The reality of the situation slowly dawning on you.
You recover from the momentary shock. You successfully try to keep pace with Thomas with the mask on the way, but he is the one who dominates the kiss.
Soon the oxygen disappears from your lungs, forcing you to separate. Lips swollen and wet with need.
Thomas's hungry gaze on you is almost animalistic. A wolf staring at its prey. And you're just a little bunny about to be eaten.
Your dress is the first to come off, buttons and seams straining in Thomas's rush to undress you. Your bra is pulled down carelessly by one of his hands. He looks away from your newly exposed breasts, one of your nipples is quickly taken by his mouth, sucking with will and sloppiness. The other neglected breast is massaged by his free hand, drawing a wave of sighs from you, encouraging him to continue his ministrations.
Your knees were weak and Thomas, observant as ever, guided you back to one of the haystacks beside you.
He spread your legs and pressed himself against you, coming into heat against your clothed pussy. His hands moved forward, but he held back and kept them there, hovering over your panties. He looked at you in question.
You waved as you whined
"Please Tommy, fuck me. You moaned
That was the last straw for Thomas. Impatience got the better of him, so he grabbed the waistband of your panties with both hands and ripped them, throwing them somewhere in the barn. The sick sting in your skin reminded you who was on top of you.
A beast of a man, a brute, whose strength excited you enough to make the insides of your thighs wet.
Now stark naked, every inch of skin was vulnerable to Thomas's ravenous gaze. The rare shyness you had around him was back in full force, making you close your legs to hide.
But he wouldn't have that.
He grabbed both your knees and forced them open, revealing your wet pussy to him.
The sight made his cock so hard it hurt. He wanted to know how it would fit, you were so small compared to him. The fit would be too tight perhaps.
But he wanted to taste you first, suck the essence of your pussy like he always fantasized about when he was alone.
He remembered something, then nervously gestured to your eyes.
Was he going to take off his mask?
"Please, Tommy, let me see you, please".
He hesitated.
It was too delicate for him.
Regret overwhelmed you and you felt you were asking too much. "Fine, I won't force you if you don't want to." You gave him an understandable look.
Not.
It was the bare minimum.
You were always so good. It was the least he could do for you after everything he put you through.
He grabbed the mask strings behind his head and pulled.
And by god.
It was the most beautiful face you've ever seen. The strong jaw, the scars scattered across his skin, red and full lips, thick eyebrows that seemed to be permanently furrowed, the deteriorated nose, pale cheeks contrasting with the sun-bleached forehead.
He looks nervously at you, waiting for your reaction. When he seems to have no answer he decides enough is enough, his eyes disappointed, like that day at Luda's shop......
He was ready to get up and go, but you stop Thomas. You cup his face and pull the sweaty hair off his forehead.
"Idiot. You had no right to hide such a beautiful face from me."
He blushes. It's the first time you've seen him so vulnerable. And he's so cute when he's embarrassed.
He plants a kiss on your hands, before remembering what he was doing earlier.
His face moves closer until it's just inches from your sodden pussy, studying with curiosity and excitement every slippery patch of pink flesh that only he has the right to look at.
Just him.
You were his from the start, you were always his. Emotion consumed his chest and soon his eager mouth was on you and he moaned at the taste. You groan at the unfamiliar sensation, all blood rushing south.
Thomas' lack of practice was made up for by his enthusiasm. His heated tongue ran up and down you slit, as if he was curious to learn but he didn't know where to start. His jagged teeth nudging you added a twinge of pleasure, his tongue briefly circled your clit and you moaned.
Thomas seemed to notice, because a moment later he began to press his tongue harder on the area, full lips closed around the bud and sucked.
"Fu-uuck". Shit, that felt so good. "T-Tho-mas, use your fingers." You moan.
He ponders. You grab Thomas's hand and hold one of his fingers against your entrance. "Like this, right here."
You guide his finger inside your tight pussy. The feel of your walls squeezing his finger made him wonder what his cock would feel like inside you.
You moaned. Damn the feel of his big finger is good enough to put your tiny little ones to shame.
Thomas began pulling his finger back and forth, testing its limits. He sucks you while pumping his finger at an increasing pace. You sigh.
Her hips shook with pleasure. Thomas put an arm across your stomach, holding you firmly in place. He gave you just one look: "be quiet".
The heat in your core only increased.
At that moment he was a starving man trying to enjoy his feast. No one would stop him, not even you.
His mouth is immediately back on your pussy, sucking wildly, as if the nectar of your arousal is nirvana on Earth.
"Thomas!"
He suckles on your pussy as if he can't get enough to drink, as if he wants to swallow you all at once, consume you whole and yet he won't get enough of you. you see stars dancing in your head as your orgasm approaches faster and faster. You cover your mouth with one hand to contain your moaning, your other hand grips his hair, the long, greasy strands between your fingers pulled hard, making Thomas moan.
With a loud moan, you come hard. Your vision turns white. You throb around Thomas's finger, convulsing as you tries to withstand the heavy orgasm that hits you.
You groan from overstimulation and try to warn Thomas.
"Thommy, not anymore. I can't." you tried to pull his head away from you.
Despite his desperate pleas, he doesn't stop. He vigorously sucks on your swollen pussy, trying to get more and more of your honey.
He adds one more finger and pumps hard. His sling circles all he can reach of your throbbing pussy.
Soon you are close to cumming again. You lifts your head back, eyes narrowed and mouth open in searing pleasure.
You come with a squirt all over Thomas's mouth, his face, his dripping hand.
He happily licks his sweet prize.
You're finished, bare skin coated in a fine sheen of sweat. And he's not even done with you yet.
He stood up and faced your boneless form. You were like a goddess under him, rosy cheeks, disheveled hair, heaving chest. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
You were barely recovering and already wanted more, you pulled the waist of his pants down in weak movements, in an attempt to encourage him to take them off. Thomas got the message, and soon he was stripping off the last few pieces of clothing, freeing his heavy cock from its restraints.
you choked
His dick was thick, huge. A few veins stood out along its absurd length. The purple head drooled a drop of pre-cum. He was hard, swollen and angry.
You played. Your hand wrapped around his length. Fuck, your fingers couldn't even touch, the girth too big to fit in his fist. You had to wrap both hands around it to make up for the lack of space. Thomas moaned at your touch, thrusting his hips into your hands.
Thomas wanted to fuck you, he wanted to deflower your pussy until you screamed and screamed in pleasure, moaning his name so everyone could hear who you belonged to.
He broke away from your touch and gently pushed you so that you were left. Thomas positioned himself between your legs and brought his cock closer to your dripping slit, wetting it with his arousal.
He would tear you apart. Your flower untouched by another man, she didn't have the training or experience to bear it.
As soon as he managed to find your little orifice, you stopped him. He looked at you expectantly, eyes hazy with dark pleasure.
"Er-m Thomas I-I never d-did that
I want it so bad, but I don't know if I can… you know, you're so big and and I…” You stammered quickly.
He pales. So you never… he thought that…
Were you… virgin?
He hadn't been with anyone else either, he knew sex only from Hoyt and the bullshit he spouted about the female victims that passed through the property, the filthy magazines he forced Thomas to look at. The things he saw on the internet, on a victim's cell phone that he stole and learned to use by himself.
Other than that, he had never had sexual contact with anyone. He has never been attracted to anyone but you and no one would ever feel that way for him.
Nobody wanted to touch a freak, a disfigured monster.
But you? You were beautiful in his eyes, a muse, an immaculate and perfect goddess that only the most worthy should look up to. Not him. You should have several men chasing after your attention.
But he was the one you chose, the one who would mark you and taste you first.
You were a rare creature, an innocent soul he would gladly take.
And your delicious pussy saved just for him...
His eyes darkened with desire and unbridled need. He had to hold back. You needed him to be careful.
He soothed you, cupped your chin and lifted your sheepish gaze back to him. His eyes were like a blue, black ocean, the pupil covering most of the iris. He was trying to put self control over his desire. He would be careful for you
He needed self control not to hurt you. Despite the urgency to be inside you killing it.
He looked at you fondly. A soft smile on his face.
"Don't worry"
You sighed and shook your head.
"It's okay, I trust you"
He nodded gratefully.
Thomas forced the head of his cock into your entrance, pushing in slowly, stopping occasionally to let you recover.
Gradually more than half of its length entered your pussy. He wanted to maintain control. But it was so much to bear.
Your pussy was so, so tight. He felt like he was going to come just from the feel of the resistance of your velvety walls around him.
You took gulps of air in an attempt to keep your heart rate steady. He wasn't even fully inside and you were already feeling overwhelmed, having to stretch your thighs to the fullest to support his waist circumference. As soon as you adjusted, that spark of courage appeared."
"Thomas, move please."
You didn't have to ask twice.
His languid rhythm against you allowed you to adjust to the pain, which was soon replaced by rising pleasure. He sped up. The cock deeper and deeper, until he was buried in you. Hips pressed against yours. He licked the seam of your neck and sucked on a small area that made you tingle, the pleasure of it adding more heat to your burning body.
The cream of your pussy eased the slide of his cock into your pussy. Thomas was hitting you with speed. He looked down at your face contorted with pleasure and stained with tears. His cock throbbed.
"Faster, Tommy. More, more, more". You cried deliriously.
The pace he set was brutal. You grabbed him, ankles dug into his back, hand behind his head, face buried in his neck.
He fucked you mercilessly. You screamed as loud as a cheap porn star. If it weren't for the rain that was already pouring down outside, Monty would certainly have heard you.
Fat tears spilled down your heated cheeks.
He growled muffled sounds in your ear.
His moans of pleasure mingled with yours. A symphony the two of you shared in each other's ears.
"This whole time you wanted to fuck me big man, hmm?" You moaned in his ear. "Wanna ram that thick cock into my pussy until I couldn't walk?
Shit... Did you know how to talk dirty? The polite, innocent girl Luda Mae bragged about? If she heard those words coming out of your pretty little mouth…. Oh no, she would have a fit.
He moans. He would fuck you like the whore you are. You sassy, y/n.
He puts out full power. His hips were like pistons, unbridled and powerful.
You saw stars, before you felt your third orgasm approaching. He didn't stop, the sensation of your pussy chewing was too much for him. He felt like he was going to come any minute.
He put his mouth over your ear and growled.
"MINE!" Your eyes widened. You had never heard him speak, and now he was saying it. Only for you.
You felt the coil tighten. In a desperate act, you bit the crook of Thomas's neck. He moaned hard. Fuck you were going to cum all over his cock.
His thick, rumbling voice rumbled like an earthquake in his chest: "CUM, Y/N!".
With one last heated look from Thomas, you came.
Your climax hit like a train. Your eyes rolled back behind your lids, head thrown back in ecstasy.
Your orgasm ripped Thomas's. Pussy milking him fervently. Thick ropes of cum shooting inside you in absurd amounts that couldn't fit inside and overflowed with every thrust. His hips stuttered on his last thrusts. Until he landed on top of you, your forearms braced to keep from throwing all of his body weight into your smaller form.
You stayed there, enjoying each other's warmth and the pleasant post-sex haze.
Minutes passed and soon you broke the silence
"Sorry"
He looked up. What were you apologizing for?
"I shouldn't have been so reckless, I should have said something that day at the station. I should have defended you from those idiots, but I acted like a coward."
You weren't to blame for anything, the only one who should be apologizing and begging for your forgiveness was him.
He looked at you with determination
"Not- you"he tried again
"I'm s-orry, y/n". I was mean, not you." He said with watery eyes. You rated him, did it hurt to talk? He was torturing himself just to apologize to you.
"Thomas, stop". He looked at you with regret. Sad, guilty eyes staring into yours reluctantly.
"What happened doesn't matter now, okay? You messed up, I messed up, we were two idiots fighting over something useless. The only thing I want right now is for you and me to try to get to know each other, okay. I want to touch you and be able to talk to you you without all that rancor. I want you to touch me and be closer to me, don't run away like you used to. I want to be friends before anything. I want to be your girlfriend, lover, whatever you want. If you want wants."
He considered you for a moment, his expression one of pure surprise and delight. He nodded in affirmation.
Yes, y/n! He would be everything you asked for. He didn't want to love you in secret anymore, he wanted to be able to touch your face, your hair, he wanted to wake up and find you in his bed with messy hair and sleepy eyes. He wanted to have those soft teasing moments, wanted to be able to openly watch your smile without having to watch you from a distance, wanted to sweep you in his arms and kiss you…..
Yes, yes and yes.
He wanted to make up for that pang of guilt by suffering for all the times he hurt you. He would try to compensate with every gesture of love he could give you. He would give his life for you.
You smiled and pecked all over his face, the forehead, the eyelids, the scarred cheeks, the damaged nose, and finally his mouth. He held your face in this position and stole your lips in a slow and deep kiss.
You broke away and rested your forehead against his with a happy sigh.
But then you felt the dry straw of hay prickling your back uncomfortably.
"So. How about a run home in the rain? His head shook in denial."
"Well, I was going to say that you could take a shower together when we get there, but if you don't want…"
He lifted his head and opened his eyes. You looked at him boldly.
Naughty girl.
He gave you a peck.
"Oh, so that's a yes?" He chuckled, but nodded, matching your amusement.
"I love you Thomas"
He touched your lower lip with his thumb, kissed your cheek and whispered into the shell of your ear.
"I love you too Y/N"
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
This is my first story, so I don't know if it will be good. Too many words here, sorry I got carried away 👉👈
Sorry for any spelling errors, I'm from another country so English is not my native language.
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Judging Others
1 ‘Do not judge, so that you may not be judged. 2 For with the judgement you make you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get. 3 Why do you see the speck in your neighbour’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? 4 Or how can you say to your neighbour, “Let me take the speck out of your eye”, while the log is in your own eye? 5 You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbour’s eye.
Profaning the Holy
6 ‘Do not give what is holy to dogs; and do not throw your pearls before swine, or they will trample them under foot and turn and maul you.
Ask, Search, Knock
7 ‘Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. 8 For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. 9 Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for bread, will give a stone? 10 Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake? 11 If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!
The Golden Rule
12 ‘In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.
The Narrow Gate
13 ‘Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. 14 For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.
A Tree and Its Fruit
15 ‘Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. 16 You will know them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorns, or figs from thistles? 17 In the same way, every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit. 18 A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. 19 Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 20 Thus you will know them by their fruits.
Concerning Self-Deception
21 ‘Not everyone who says to me, “Lord, Lord”, will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only one who does the will of my Father in heaven. 22 On that day many will say to me, “Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?” 23 Then I will declare to them, “I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers.”
Hearers and Doers
24 ‘Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. 25 The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock. 26 And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand. 27 The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell—and great was its fall!’
28 Now when Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were astounded at his teaching, 29 for he taught them as one having authority, and not as their scribes.
— Matthew 7 | New Revised Standard Version, Anglicised (NRSVA)
New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition, copyright © 1989, 1995 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. All rights reserved.
Cross References: 1 Samuel 15:33; 1 Samuel 24:13; 1 Kings 13:18; Job 22:16; Psalm 6:8; Psalm 16:11; Psalm 34:4; Psalm 37:4; Psalm 84:11; Psalm 109:17; Proverbs 9:8; Proverbs 10:8; Proverbs 10:25; Proverbs 23:9; Isaiah 35:8; Isaiah 63:7; Daniel 4:14; Matthew 5:17; Matthew 8:1; Matthew 10:15; Matthew 11:1; Matthew 12:33; Matthew 22:40; Matthew 25:10; Luke 6:37; Luke 6:41-42 and 43; Luke 11:10; Luke 13:24; John 3:14; Romans 2:1; 2 Corinthians 11:3; James 3:12
#hypocritical judgment#fruit#the house on the rock#the authority of Jesus#Matthew 7#Gospel of Matthew#New Testament#NRSVA#New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition#National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America
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(JTA) — The Republican nominee for Congress in Texas’ 7th district is a self-proclaimed history buff, but his take on Anne Frank is not one that most historians would endorse.
Johnny Teague, an evangelical pastor and business owner who won the district’s primary in March, in 2020 published “The Lost Diary of Anne Frank,” a novel imagining the famous Jewish Holocaust victim’s final days in the Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen concentration camps as she might have written them in her diary.
The kicker: In Teague’s telling, Frank seems to embrace Christianity just before she is murdered by the Nazis.
Published by Las Vegas-based publisher Histria Books, the speculative book attempts to faithfully extend the writing style of Frank’s “original” diary entries into her experiences in the camps: it “picks up where her original journey left off,” according to the promotional summary. Teague claims to have interviewed Holocaust survivors and visited the Anne Frank House, multiple concentration camps and the major Holocaust museums in Washington, D.C., and Israel as part of his research.
“I would love to learn more about Jesus and all He faced in His dear life as a Jewish teacher,” Teague’s Anne Frank character muses at one point, saying that her dad had tried to get her a copy of the New Testament. Anne’s father Otto Frank, who in real life did survive the Holocaust, seems to have been spared a tragic fate in Teague’s telling because of his interest in learning about Jesus.
Later, Anne does learn about Jesus through other means, reciting psalms and expressing sympathy for Jesus’ plight.
By book’s end, Anne is firm in her belief that “every Jewish man or woman should ask” questions like “Where is the Messiah? … Did He come already, and we didn’t recognize Him?”
Teague, responding to a query from the Jewish Telegraphic Agency after the story’s initial publication, said his book had been “misrepresented” and that it shows Frank “relating her suffering to the historic persecution by Egypt, Haman, Assyria, Rome and others — all horrific facts of how the precious Jewish people have been attacked for so many centuries.”
Teague said he based Frank’s interpretation of Jesus off of a reference in her original diary to her father wanting her and her sister Margot “to be exposed to the New Testament and the life of Jesus” and, “As she made those entries in her own hand, I could not pretend that the thoughts, lessons, or questions of Jesus never crossed her mind afterward.” He also said he included Jesus because “when the Jewish people were suffering so much torment and suffering, it is impossible to imagine them not contemplating in their turmoil the longing for a Messiah to rescue them.”
While Teague’s version of Frank doesn’t explicitly indicate she wants to convert to Christianity, she makes many comments praising Christians she meets in the concentration camp, noting of one woman, “What I love about her is her faith in God and her faith in Jesus.” Later, Frank says, “I am seeing a stark difference in some of the Christians here, as opposed to the others… It seems Christians are more willing to die than the rest of us.”
Teague says such passages don’t necessarily represent a full conversion to Christianity. “Do I think Anne Frank became a Christian? No one can know what spiritual decisions or conclusions people make in a time of tragedy and persecution,” Teague continued. “This book does not indicate either way.”
He added, “We must stand with the Jewish people and for them.”
Teague also claims in his candidate biography that he “has been affiliated with” the Association for Jewish Studies, the academic membership organization devoted to Jewish studies. Teague’s Anne Frank book appears on a 2021 AJS list of books by its own members, under the author name “Johnny Mark Teague.” AJS did not return requests for comment.
The candidate’s top issues on his website include “Close the Border,” “Eliminate Property Taxes” and his belief that fossil fuels are divinely ordained: “If you believe in a Creator and that everything is here for a purpose, then you have to realize that fossil fuels are not an accident. At the very beginning of time, God knew we would need automation and industry, so in His Wisdom, He gave us the fuels that we would need.”
It’s common for evangelical Christians to engage in proselytizing, including toward Jews, and surveys have indicated that nearly half of American adults believe the country should be “a Christian nation.” But the size and scope of Teague’s efforts to undermine Anne Frank’s Judaism in his book is unusual even in such circles.
The Houston-area district Teague is running in has a Democratic incumbent. It was redrawn in 2020 but is still heavily favored to elect a Democrat.
This is the second time Teague has secured the Republican nomination for a Congressional district in Texas. He previously ran in the state’s ninth district in 2020, where he only received 21% of the vote in the general election. The election was held two days after “The Lost Diary of Anne Frank” was published.
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keeping secrets
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader
Summary: Eddie's campaign ran a little longer than intended, and an unexpected visitor distracts him. Dustin may be overbearing and even overprotective, but Eddie's good at keeping secrets...Words: 1.6k
Warnings: none! sibling fluff, Eddie is a simp, fluff, some language
This fic is intended for a fem reader, but I can post a different version with different pronouns if needed! All fics are size and race-neutral!
//this one is a little short, unfortunately. I could make a second part if anyone wants it!
"Fuck, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, Robin. I swear I'll make it up to you! Tell me about this girl next time. I wanna hear everything! Bye!"
You practically slammed the phone back onto the switch and looked at the clock, 10:26 pm. Dustin's campaign is probably over by now. You were supposed to pick up your brother, Dustin, at 10pm sharp. "Shit, mom's gonna kill me!" You scrambled around your room, fixing your hair into a comfortable style. You raided your closet and changed your clothes to look a little more presentable than you were not even five minutes ago.
Your mother was on a business trip, leaving you to take care of the brat. He was a handful, and so were his friends. Dustin would always rant to you about a guy named Eddie and how great he was. You didn't buy it...
"Why couldn't you have had someone else to drive you home, Dustin.." You were talking to yourself as if Dustin was really there. You grabbed your keys and rushed out to the car, ignoring the concerned glance from your mother's cat as you walked out the door. "Bye, Mews" you mumbled.
You started the car a soon pulled out of your driveway and into the night. As your hands tightly gripped the steering wheel, you were surprised to see how empty the streets were. "Fuuuck I'm so late." an anxious feeling in your stomach washed over you. Part of you felt guilty, but you knew that Dustin would forgive you. It's in his nature.
When you pulled up to the school, Dustin was nowhere to be seen. However, you saw the dim lights of the Hellfire Club's room from outside. "He better be done. It's been like 5 hours!" you said to yourself as you walked through the door near the club room. You graduated last year, and that door was never locked. You had used it many times to skip school and hang out with Steve and Robin.
You walked inside, feeling yourself warm up from the cold November air outside. "Jesus, nothing's changed," as you looked at the aging posters that had been there for years, you felt a sense of nostalgia. You never thought you'd be back here, let alone picking up your brother from his stupid club. You didn't really think it was stupid. But if you had to choose between a very interesting call with Robin versus visiting the Hellfire Club, you'd choose the call.
You heard shouting and many voices yelling "Mike!" or "Dustin!" making you roll your eyes. "Jesus, they're still playing?" you said to yourself quietly as you followed the echoed shouting from the hall to the club room. The entrance was decorated with all kinds of stuff that looked like something out of a cult. "Wow, very festive.." you muttered to yourself.
You didn't notice the eyes watching you from inside the room. "Do you need something?" a voice from inside asked. The man had long hair and was adorned in the Hellfire t-shirt that you had seen Dustin wear dozens of times and large rings. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little intimidated. "Uh yeah, I'm-" you were cut off by Dustin. "We're almost done, Y/n! Just like five more minutes please?" you nod and roll your eyes. You were about to walk back to your car when you heard, "Wait!"
You turned around to see the long-haired man walking toward you. "So you're the famous Y/n Henderson. It's a pleasure to meet you." He held his hand out to shake yours. His rings caught your eye as you took his hand. "I am. And you are?" You tilt your head waiting for a response, to which there was none. Eddie stopped listening when you shook his hand. He had heard Dustin talk about his sister before. He only knew you by name. He looked at your confused face and realized his mistake. "Huh? Oh, I'm Eddie." You heard whispered talking from behind Eddie.
"I think you have some people waiting for you, Eddie." You couldn't help but laugh as his face went a little pink in embarrassment. The other Hellfire members were surprised to say the least. They had never seen their leader so flustered and at a loss for words. "Why don't we talk after your session?" you offered, making him smile. "Yeah, I'm sure Dustin could wait in the car, can't you, Dustin?" He narrowed his eyes at Dustin, who was rolling his eyes.
"No, I'm not gonna wait in the car while you suck each other's faces!" this made you and Eddie laugh. "I'll wait outside. I wouldn't want disturb the campaign.." you smirk at him and watch him walk back. You smiled to yourself as you heard protests when Eddie told them that the todays session would end soon.
As you waited outside the room, you rolled your eyes at the things said about you. "Wow, Dustin, you never told us you had a hot sister.." You could practically see the image of the disgusted look on Dustin's face in your mind as you held in your laughter. "Answer this honestly, Henderson. Is your sister dating anyone at the moment?" Gareth asked, making Dustin throw dice at him.
"Alright, it's over for tonight! No throwing things! We'll finish this tomorrow. Henderson, ask your sister if she'd like to join us and watch tomorrow." Eddie started packing up the figurines, dice, and anything else used for the game.
You sat on the hood of your car, waiting patiently for Dustin and Eddie. Dustin passed you and sat in the passenger seat, not saying a word. "C'mon don't be like that, Dustin. It's just a friendly chat!" you can't help but laugh as he rolls the window down. "Stay the hell away from my sister, Eddie!" he points a finger in Eddie's face. Eddie smirked and ignored him.
"Sorry about him, he's protective all of the sudden." you laugh as Dustin flips you off from inside the car. "Don't worry about it. He has to be, I'm sure every guy in Hawkins is after you." He leans on the hood of the car with you. You just shake your head and scoff. "Believe me, nobody in Hawkins is looking my way. More reason to get out of here, you know?" Eddie stopped listening after the first sentence yet again. He was shocked. How could nobody have snatched you up yet?
"You're joking." Eddie sent you a look of utter confusion. It made you laugh. God he loved your laugh. He watched you sigh, and he couldn't help but feel angry at Dustin for never introducing him sooner. "Nope, but I don't feel bad about it. I'll find someone once I leave Hawkins." Eddie couldn't help but admire your positivity. He was a little disappointed that you weren't looking for someone in Hawkins.
"So, you've given up on every guy in Hawkins?" you smirked knowingly and shrugged. "I don't know, Eddie. Why?" you press him for answers, trying to make him squirm. He avoided your eyes and stared at the ground. "No reason, just wondering.." he trailed off.
You smile and jump off the hood, standing in the gravel in front of Eddie. "Well, if you were curious..." you start, watching his eyes light up in hope. It was the most adorable thing you've ever seen. "I'd gladly go on a date with you, Eddie."
Eddie tried to keep his composure. He was usually very outgoing and extremely flamboyant. But in this moment, he felt very anxious. He'd never truly felt this nervous around anyone, let alone a girl he'd just met. But he knew one thing; If Dustin was fun, his sister was even better.
"I was going to ask you, but it didn't feel like the right time." He felt embarrassed, but when he looked at you and found your understanding gaze, he relaxed. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable the first time he met you. It happened too often for Eddie. Whenever he met girls, he'd move too fast. But he liked you already for several reasons; you weren't judgemental, you took care of people around you, and you were absolutely gorgeous.
He didn't know where the fuck Dustin was hiding you but he was over the moon about you and he had only met you an hour ago. "Might not want to tell Dustin though, he'll freak." You glanced back at Dustin, who was talking to one of his friends through his walkie talkie. You made sure Dustin wasn't looking when you grabbed Eddie's hand. "Here's my number. We can talk when I get home. I'd love to know more about you."
Eddie watched you scribble your number onto his hand. He admired how focused you looked, trying to get your pen to put ink onto his hand and barely succeeding. "I'll see you tomorrow then?" Eddie stood up and put his hands in his jean pockets, the cold air making his fingers practically frozen. "Sure, I'll be there. Maybe I could actually watch the campaign this time." Your curiosity towards him and his hobby made Eddie's heart soar as he watched you pull out of the school parking lot.
Fuck he had it bad for you. He felt like a teenager all over again with how crazy he was about you. "So what did you two talk about?" Dustin tried to gauge whether you were now dating his best friend. "Nothing much, just talking about you being too nosy for your own good." You teased him, making him huff and look out the passenger window. Sure, he was annoyed, but deep down he knew Eddie would take care of you.
"And we talked about our date next week...." you said with a smirk.
"Son of a bitch!"
//thank you for reading! Again, part 2 could be a thing if anyone wants it!
#eddie stranger things#stranger things#netflix#steve harrington#robin buckley#x y/n#imagine#eddie munson fluff#long hair#reader insert#eddie munson
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Kip Sabian.
Please go off.
anon i respect you so much for this but i hope you know what you have just done LMAO
tl;dr - hes absolutely perfect in every way possible. love of my life
hes just.. so innovative. his character work is absolutely fucking masterful, no matter which one it is. all of them are so delightfully different from one another but you can still see the same man behind all of them and thats just talking about the range of the character work and the clear work and effort he puts into everything he does, be it just the characters themselves, the promos, in-ring work, anything. he always goes all out, hes creative as hell with them (name me one other person that gets over with a box on their head i dare you) and it truly shows how loving and passionate he is about this whole wrestling thing and that he just absolutely gets it. also he just has fun with it and it shows. anything from cocky indie superbad to coward best husband superbad to boxman to whatever the cringe failure era was lmao and now the sex idol. he just does it all and he does it flawlessly and i will throw hands with tk if he doesnt capitalize on this man soon i sWEAR TO GODDAMN
his in-ring work is incredibly good. watch literally any sequence hes ever had with orange cassidy and you see what i mean. hes improved from that too (since the last one of those was a quite long while ago now), he can hang with pretty much anyone. i like it the way he says it himself, he can literally make anyone look good and no one has ever complained about having to work with him in the ring. which says a lot about how good and talented he is imo. he can do it all, be it more grounded moves or recently hes been doing a lot more jumps and top rope moves which! exciting!! cause it just adds to his arsenal and shows off that flexibility even more and its just so insanely good. like fuck man if you can get someone who can hang one-on-one with someone like vikingo like he did a few weeks back, thats a fucking keeper. dont you dare forget that
im not gonna take this moment to talk about his promo stuff cause i will literally be here forever. watch this and get back to me later about why im right that hes incredible at this shit with the tone and again character work and just overall presentation. even if its now a bit more comedic with the sex idol, its still an absolute delight. also i could listen to him talk forever, he has my favorite voice in the entire world and his accent is delicious and good fucking lord
PRESENTATION. hes just really fucking hot okay. i thought he was cute before but my god. the hair, no matter the version, on point. the eyeliner, gorgeous. nail polish, good lord (he needs to bring it back tbh its been a while). the outfits, holy shit i cant say words. i have done an extensive gear study to show how truly insane he makes me about his looks, not to mention the goddamn casual fits/suit game. jesus take the wheel. his smile is fucking out of his world and the laugh lines he gets are maybe my favorite feature on any human ever. hes fucking delicious and what of it
also arms. i dont think i need to say anything more i have also turned into a back admirer girlie (gn) because of him so like. uuuuuh
AND THEN. hes just a fucking delightful human being in general. is he stupid and cringey? yes, but arent we all. it just shows how human he is. just like us. ive so many times wondered how if we lived on slightly different timelines, we might have genuinely been friends cause he reminds me so much of guys of the same age that i know and im friends with. like we would have meshed pretty well together if circumstances were different lmao. that just shows me how genuine he is tbh. hes just fucking nice, hes very supportive, tries his best to be a good ally (i have both seen this and have first hand experience on it so dont @ me saying im wrong or its performative, i have way too many cases to prove that hes fr fr) and.. yeah. ive never heard anyone that actually knows him say anything bad about him. he has his flaws, obviously, cause nobodys perfect, but he makes up for it with what ridiculously good he has in him. this is a man with so much potential and love to give to the world both in his personal and professional lives and hes just needs his chance to shine so fucking badly, in all areas of life
im gonna stop now before i get too emotional but. yeah. he means fucking everything to me 💜💜
#thank you for asking! <3#Anonymous#i didnt even get into the personal importance of the boxman or his catchphrases theres SO MUCH MORE i could include into this#i tried to keep it brief i wanna do other things tonight LMAO#anon i respect you so much for this thank you i love you#box thoughts
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Trailer Park Trash: Prologue
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader.
Reader: Trans Guy . Goth . Femboy . 18
Warnings: This takes place in my own version of Hawkins and ignores the canon timeline and events.
Summary: Reader has just moved to Hawkins, on the first day of school he meets Hellfire.
Authors Note: This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic series, the pacing and grammar aren't perfect but I hope to improve.
First Person Perspective
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I moved to Hawkins for a new life, I'd spent far too much of mine pretending to be someone else. I had grown sick of people I no longer knew calling me by a name that was never mine, so I packed my bags and left.
Why Hawkins? It's actually very simple. I'm repeating my final year of highschool, I don't have the time to work a full-time job and it's suspiciously cheap to buy a place in Hawkins.
I decided to buy a trailer, it'd be easy to maintain and the initial payment wouldn't leave me broke for a month.
...
On the first day of school I walked in wearing my school-appropriate clothes. Based on the stares I was getting Hawkins hadn't seen many goths.
Morning classes went by sluggishly, I was met with snarky comments from my teachers in every class. The bell rang for lunch, I gathered my things and made my way to the cafeteria.
Walking through those doors was overwhelming, the room buzzed from all the chatter, a group of teens ran past almost knocking me over. My attention locked onto someone standing on a table. He's attractive, confident and making fun of social hierarchies.
"-BALLS INTO LAUNDRY BASKETS!!!" he shouts, after a brief confrontation with one of the jocks he sits down at the table, he's surrounded by an odd group all sporting the same logo on their shirt. Looking around the cafeteria it becomes clear that I won't be welcomed by most of my peers, I decide to try my luck with the hot guy and 'Hellfire'.
"Is this seat free?" I gesture to an empty chair.
"uh-" the group exchange glances then turn towards the guy sitting at the head of the table.
He smiles leaning forward, "You may sit" he makes a large sweeping motion with his arm.
I take a seat, without missing a beat the group resumes their earlier conversation. I want to join but decide to stay quiet, it seems like their friend had ditched them for the basketball team.
The guy stood up abruptly, "It seems luck is on your side little sheep, we have our replacement" all eyes turn to me.
...
And that's how I was indoctrinated into a Satanic cult...
Not actually, turns out Hellfire is just a DnD club. I filled in for their basketball friend that night, luckily I knew enough about DnD to get through the session without a hitch.
After the defeat of Vecna we decided that celebratory pizza was in order. Dustin called shotgun before we set foot outside, the rest of us crammed into the back of Eddie's van.
"BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUP, IT'S GONNA BE A BUMPY RIDE!!" Eddie yells over the music booming through his stereo.
When we arrived at Surfer Boy Pizza everyone was in a tangled pile on the floor.
"GET OFF ME!" Mike squealed.
"OUCH!!" Jeff squeaked.
"WHOSE ASS IS IN MY FACE!!?" Gareth shrieked.
Eddie was cackling from the drivers seat.
"GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND HELP ME MUNSON!!!"
...
We all stuffed our faces with pizza, I held the record of three whole slices in my mouth at once.
The guys were both horrified and impressed by my talent, Eddie didn't say a damn thing but the look on his face said it all.
Mike attempted to beat my record only to start choking on the second slice, thank the devil Dustin knew the heimlich maneuver.
After everyone had eaten more than their fill of pizza Eddie dropped them all home, I was the last stop.
"Where do you live pretty boy?" Pretty boy?! Jesus fucking christ this man was gonna be the death of me, my palms were so fucking sweaty.
"The trailer park, just go straight then make a left turn" I start giving directions only to be cut short.
"You're my new neighbor!" His face practically lights up.
"Wha- You live in the trailer park too??" How had I not noticed him??
"Hell yeah! Trailer park trash man!" He raised his hand for a high five, when our hands meet he intertwines our fingers.
I feel the heat rising in my face, my ears and cheeks burning. We remain holding hands for the rest of the ride, I never want this to end.
"Looks like we're here pretty boy" He turned to me, a cheeky grin on his face.
"Yeah I guess we are" He squeezes my hand before letting go.
"See ya tomorrow then"
"See ya then" I hop out of the van and go inside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
| Prologue | Part 1 | [updates in progress]
Thanks for reading!! Writing tips are welcome, feel free to leave suggestions in the comments :)
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x ftm reader#eddie munson x male reader#eddie munson x trans reader
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You’re Somebody Else | Ghost x Fem!Reader | Prologue
Update: I split the prologue because I feel like the pacing fits better if it’s split into two parts.
Note: This is based on a request which I changed a bit since I did not play any other Call of Duty game besides Modern Warfare 2 (2022). I did a bit of research tho for the older games so I hope it’s not complete bullshit that I’m pulling out of my ass, also related to the military stuff xD
Thank you for this first request of my current favorite character :))
Also a warning, this series will be angsty as hell but I’m not planning to make it very long, as I learned my lesson with a certain witcher fic xD
This fic has religious undertones at least in this part, I hope I don’t make anyone uncomfortable with this. I grew up Christian (tho I’m an atheist now) and I thought a bit about how I would react if I was suddenly in a parallel universe where I and several other people are supposed to be dead.
Warnings: Death, Mentions of Gore, Angst, COD Typical Violence, Mentions of Original Characters, Mention of Religion and Hell, Inaccurate Depiction of Medical Stuff, Injuries and prolly Military, Transmigration (lol)
Summary: You watched him die and yet he’s somehow still alive. You’re certain that you’ve died too and yet you’re still kicking. Is this a message from the universe? A second chance to make things right? To confess? You want to believe it but you quickly realize that he’s not the same man you knew and loved. Yet your heart is fluttering when he touches you. Can you love this new version of him?
Word Count: 1.2k
Taglist: -
If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)
Masterlist
Part I, Part II, Part III, ...
“Fucking hell, there’s so many of ‘em!”
Lynx fires her rifle next to you and you do the same, feeling the recoil on your shoulder. You only waste a millisecond to check if your target is actually hit and then immediately focus on the next enemy.
Below your position the LZ is hot and the hill on the other side is bombarded with mortars.
You know it’s hell down there and yet you wish you were between those trees instead of the elevated bush area from where you currently provide cover fire.
He is there and in this very moment you want to be by his side. No matter the heavy gunfire.
“You still see them?!” your partner asks from your right, and you affirm her question as you kill another hostile.
Roach and Ghost are steadily moving forward in between the onslaught of Russian soldiers and growing relief trickles through your veins with every step they take.
But then they run out of the tree line and before either of you can react, a mortar shell explodes right in front of them, and Roach is sent flying.
“No, fuck, NO!” Lynx yelps and the panic in her voice is earth-shattering.
“He’s not dead, Anna!” you shout and grab her by the shoulder, stopping her from standing up. She bites her lips but thankfully remains on the ground, just inching a bit forward, desperate to spot her lover alive.
You pray that your words are true and thank fuck they are; seconds later Ghost drags a shooting Roach away from the trees and the red flare that the masked man popped for Thunder-Two-One.
“Jesus Christ”, you hear the woman beside you whisper, “I’ll beat his ass when we’re back home!”
A nervous bubbly laugh escapes you and you hope that you all can return to base safe and in one piece.
“Move, Ghost! We’ll cover you!” you speak into your mic.
His voice rings through your earbud “copy that, Nomad!” and you breathe out shakily. Yeah, everything will be fine.
With your eyes you watch how Thunder-Two-One sends a merciless spray of machine gun fire into the tree line, but you can’t see beyond the smoke and instead focus your scope on the few enemy soldiers that emerge from the grey fog. You take them out one by one.
You’re about to send another bullet into an approaching hostile when your radio crackles.
“Gold Eagle is on the ground. Watch for snipers on thermal, over.”
Lynx makes a noise beside you. “Isn’t it just us and Adle-“
Blood suddenly sprays and you blink. Your lips taste iron, your right eye is watering and with one glance to your right the sounds of the battlefield all turn into white noise.
Instinctively you press yourself against the grass, your left cheek touches the damp ground and with wide eyes you stare at Anna’s unmoving body. Your partner is dead. Shot in the head.
Based on the whizz of the bullet and the spray of blood that hit you it must have been a sniper who killed her. For a second you think the Russians sneaked up on you, but then you remember the words through the radio; Watch for snipers…
Realization trickles through your veins. Someone must have betrayed you.
Your heart sinks and within a millisecond you make a decision.
You roll to your left, gripping your rifle tightly and a bullet passes overhead, barely missing your shoulder. But it did miss and you’re rolling down the side of the hill.
The tumble returns your ability to hear, and the sound of the helicopters combined with your racing heartbeat is deafening.
The small incline of your hiding place saved your life for now and although you know deep down that your luck probably won’t last, you are thankful in this very moment.
Tears well up in your eyes but you rub them away with your sleeve. A red smear appears on the fabric, and you clench your jaw. Focus, you don’t have time for this right now!!
You know that whoever killed Anna is probably relocating right now to get a good shot at you, but you don’t care.
You need to know what’s happening to him, if he dies-
“Ghost?! Lynx is KIA, someone cut us! Do you copy?!”
You anxiously wait for an answer, but your radio stays silent.
Breathing out shakily, you lift yourself from the ground and rush behind a tree to shield your right flank. The dust that is kicked up by the many helicopters, which gathered on the plain, is making it difficult for you to spot the man you’re looking for, but the big Boeing helicopter used to transport the General is a good reference point.
You position your rifle and adjust your scope to find the heli.
The clouds of dust are thick, but like a miracle you spot the General- leaning over Roach, Simon laying motionlessly beside them, his grey sweater showing a bloom of red as if he was shot-
Your scream is stuck in your throat, and you watch frozen as Shepherd retrieves the DSM from Gary and simply leaves while four Shadow company soldiers step forward.
Tears well up again and this time you let them fall as the world begins to spin.
“No, no, no, please-!” you whimper, sucking in air through your clenched teeth and without a second thought you rush forward.
You make it about 60 meters before a bullet through your right shoulder throws you off balance and sends you straight to the ground. Hot flaming pain shoots through your body and the brute force of your crash and your rifle painfully pressing against your ribs take the air out of your lungs.
Dazed you lift your head, heavy from the weight of your helmet, and for a moment your vision is blurry; you blink to regain focus.
In the distance you see the soldiers clad in black, carrying Gary’s and Simon’s limp bodies to a spot without grass. They drop them like two sacks of potatoes and the pain in your heart is worse than the one of your bullet wound.
A wail escapes your throat, and you try to lift your body from the ground, to crawl forward, but your limbs feel like lead, and you don’t have the strength to move.
Your radio crackles and your ear bud lets Captain Price’s voice come through: “Ghost, come on, this is Price! We’re under attack by Shepherd’s men…”
You can hear gunfire from his side and in one last effort you pull your rifle from underneath you.
The fact that Taskforce 141- you were betrayed by your superior, the man who you considered a father figure at one point in your life, that he killed the man you loved- love… That fact stokes something inside of you and that barely gives you the strength to position your rifle.
Weakly you watch how the Shadow company bastards douse your friends, your brothers, the ones you love with gasoline and Shepherd’s plan dawns on you. Bile rises in your throat and you sob through clenched teeth.
You place your finger on the trigger but in the end, you don’t get the chance to pull it.
The general casually drops his cigar and Gary’s and Simon’s corpses go up in flames right as a bullet enters the back of your head.
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty modern warfare II#modern warfare II#modern warfare 2 2022#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost#simon riley x fem reader#ghost x fem reader#x fem reader#soldier reader#taskforce 141#141!reader#sniper reader#fem reader#roach#gary roach sanderson#soap#john soap mactavish#general shepherd#captain price#john price
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your incentive to read to the bottom of this post is ✨Ben Vereen in a thong✨
In honor of yesterday being Good Friday and Easter being on Sunday, let me tell you about my current hyperfixation: Tim O’Horgans, original Broadway production of Jesus Christ Superstar.
This version is notoriously hated by Andrew Lloyd Webber- opening night being described as “the worst night of his life” but that’s only because even as a young man he was clearly a curmudgeon who hated fun.
This production is campy, it’s busy, and its clear it relies a lot on the spectacle pillar of theatre, but I love it nonetheless. my favorite version of JSC is the OBC recording consisting of: Jeff Fenholt as Jesus, Ben Vereen as Judas, Yvonne Elimen as Mary, Barry Dennin as Pilot, Bob Bingham as Caiaphus and Paul Ainsley as Herod. Some of the names you’ll recognize reprises their role for the 1973 movie.
I’m gonna tell you a few my of favorite fun facts/ things I noticed based on images and what I’ve read in Nassirs Rock Opera. Without further ado:
Overture: There are many descriptions of the overture, and they're very wild and I have no idea how to verbalize it. But I can tell you that Jesus rode in on a golden chalice with this opulent cape on lol.
You can learn more abt the staging for the overture here. The next pic is of him in his chalice chariot thing lol
Heaven on Their Minds: These are images of Judas and his tormentors. Now, Judas is usually played by a very strong actor, so a visual representation of what he’s going through isn’t really necessary, but I love the concept. They’re these hooded, shadow figures who follow him around and push him about on the stage. They chronically torment him and he fights them throughout the show until it’s time for his death where they lifthim up so he can get the rope to hang himself.
This Jesus Must Die: this one gets me really excited. So the High Priests are on this brige that’s meant to look like dinosaur fossils; and have you seen their costumes?? Like I have so many questions, this is such an interesting take. They keep their elaborate head pieces in the 1973 film, and they also give them a scaffold as a lair, but their costumes/set is so campy here. Really giving off Disney villain. Their part in the show received a lot of criticism because they’re portrayed kinda smarmy, and slinking in the shadows; the portrayal was deemed anti-semantic.
In the 1973 movie, they added the song “Then We are Decided,” between Caiaphus and Anna’s to portray a more human side to the Sanhedrin. That song is never performed, so you can imagine how well that went.
Hosanna
This is probably my least favorite song in the whole album but visually? I have no idea what's going on in this picture, but I love it. So it's a processional and the priests are watching from their lair. Apparently the props are supposed to look like microbes, and I know there was an insane thought process behind this, it's giving protozoa, amoeba realness. Like someone is carrying a giant set of dentures, can you find them?
Pilate's Dream
Costume Design for Pilate, and also Pilates Dream
The Temple: This is another wild one:
No Words, simply watch the Tony performance:
I Don’t Know How to Love Him:
She's so cute, I love her. This song was apparently one of the biggest applause of number, justifiably. I think one of the biggest complaints with this production as a whole, was the use of the gaudy mics. They're interesting. You can watch her performance at the tony's too.
Gethsemane: Apparently, Gethsemane was one of the biggest flops of the night, such a flop that people were laughing lol. It was staged with Jeff Fenholt, alone, center stage. There was this thing that dropped down behind him, O'Horgan dubbed 'The Universe Box'. It was suppose to look like Jesus was singing this song at the precipice of the universe with a galaxy of stars around him. In Rock Opera, Nassir refers to it as 'O'Horgans oversized toy', and there were several things that compared it to decorative boxes and toys from the 80's. I tried really hard to visualize this, because the concept of it sounds super cool. Instead, it looked silly to viewers and apparently Jeff Fenholt (who sings my favorite rendition of Gethsemane) didn't have the acting chops to pull away from the failure of the concept. YOU! DO! NOT! UNDERSTAND! THE! ANGST! I WENT! THROUGH! TO! GET! AN! IMAGE! OF !! THIS!!! DAMMED!!!!! BOX!!!!
Okay, I have to agree, it does look... strange and I would not have guessed it was supposed to represent the universe.
I'm not quite sure what is looks like. 💀💀
(I found the image from a person on TikTok! The account has lots of JCS OBC tidbits )
Pilate and Christ:
There was this really cool set piece that acted as the door to Pilates palace, it was ceasers head, and when the doors opened, it would expand to reveal 6 more eyes and pilate would sashay out lol.
King Herod
This number also got a lot of applause, it was definitely comedic relief, as Herod is often used for. Apparently he was wheeled in inside a giant, green dragons head and it opened to reveal him sitting in like a shell type thing. I'm still trying to find pictures of this prop- after finding the universe box, I am determined! He was in full drag with nails, the dress, the headdress and those fabulous platforms. Those platforms slay, btw.
Apparently there were a lot of high kicks and they did the Charleston lol.
Could We Start Again Please
There was some criticism about this songs placement in the show.This number was said to be not memorable at all because people were still reeling from the show Herod put on I think it's placed perfectly, because it kinda brings you back to the gravity of the situation. Had this song been placed before Herods Song, right after this Judas would hang himself. That's just too much too soon if you ask me. This provided a nice buffer, to settle down and get ready for the angst to come
Judas Death: Here are images of Judas' tormentors helping him take his life.
Trial With Pilate: Apparently this number flopped too. People said it was too long and the positioning of Dennen's mic caused him issues as his voice would cut in and out when he moved. Also, I have no idea what to make of the Roman guards costumes
I love the images of Barry Dennen going feral, pls best Pilate!!
Superstar: aaah,, the titular song. This was another stand out and y'all, If you thought Carl Andersons white fringe was extra? Any Judas getting bedazzled, wearing sparkles or glam during this song??? Yeah, none of that holds a Candle to Ben Vereen fucking coming out and performing this song in a gold thong. I can't make this shit up.
Now, I think this part is pretty cool. Jesus rises out of the ground wearing what's been dubbed 'the chrysalis'. It starts out thin, but each ensemble member grabs a pillar and spread the cape out across the stage. Judas sing this song on a butterfly set piece behind him. Okay metaphor 😩
For the opulence that was displayed throughout the entire show, the crucification was rather simple; he's simply stripped out of the 'chrysalis ' and put on a triangle.
Pls. Anyway. I love this show and we need a revival of this exact production! I'll wait until ALW expires and then find a producer lmfao 😌 There are a few updates that need to be made, but it is absolutely possible with todays technology?? Image updated gethsemane?? Tom O'Horgan your mind, sir!!!! Anyway. I love this production.
If you made it this far, thank you, I hope you now love this production as much as I do. 🫶🏾
#jesus christ superstar#Ted Neely#Carl Anderson#Jesus Christ superstar obc#easter#musical#jesus christ superstar 1973#ben vereen#she speaks#she reviews#long post#Jesus#Judas#Jeff fenholt#barry dennen#bob bingam#Paul Ainsley
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