#It feels so surreal but so fantastic!

[elizaxspears]

THEY DID. THEY CAME BACK. SO LET ME ADD SHOKUZAI TO THE LIST. ALSO BANGER

I know it’s a long shot, but imagine if SID came back to do the opening song for Black Butler season 4. Monochrome Kiss? Banger. ENAMEL? Banger. Glass Eyes? BANGER

[horreurscopes]

i."Revelation - It's Grand Climax at hand!" Watchtower Bible & Tract Society, 1988.

ii. "Pure Worship of Jehovah​—Restored At Last!" Watchtower Bible & Tract Society, 2018.

iii. Watchtower magazine, April 1989, May 1989.

Illustrators uncredited in publications and therefore unknown. 

[sophaeros]

this song gets played so much and yet we never really talk about the fucking imagery of these lines. i am not immune to late afternoon and ghost imagery

[obiwan-kenobabe]

I'm home from Metallica and I am SOBBING my eyes out. Dream concert, a show I waited my whole life to see... Wowza

[demonwebs]

Yooo ignore this if you already said so, but how does the Emperor look to Vhaal? Whose form does he take?

yes, she looks like a gentler version of his matron, no he will not be taking any questions at this time or ever

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: future smut. paring: smart!reader x himbo!rafe; ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school has incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him.

the verdict? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him.

outrageous, never done before.

for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

[cherryredlove]

☆ eiffel tower ☆

Modern! au Cregan Stark x reader x Jacaerys Velaryon SMUT

Includes Cregan x Jacaerys smut

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Baela and Rhaena always host the hottest parties of the summer. Invitied alongside your best friend Helaena, you meet two handsome men who seem equally interested in you as you are in them.

Word Count: 2.5k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, threesome, p in v, oral, eiffel towering, cum eating, alcohol consumption, cigarettes

also just imagine cregan in the pics has dark hair ahah

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The hot July night is thick with the mingled sounds of the party—a seamless mix of bass-heavy music, laughter, and shouts cutting the air. You feel the vibrations through the floor as you push your way through the crowded living room of Rhaena and Baela’s apartment. They live in a swanky flat in the city centre of King's Landing. It's their birthday, and, as usual, they’ve gone all out. Neon lights bounce off the walls, casting a colourful glow that makes everything feel both surreal and electrifying.

You'd worn your favourite sexy black top and bootcut jeans, making your ass look fantastic, as your flatmate Dyana had so kindly informed you. Bangles jingling, you make your way toward the makeshift bar in the corner, your eyes scanning the throngs of people dancing and talking, searching for a familiar face. Finally, you spot her—Helaena, your best friend, is lounging on a couch, deep in conversation with a couple of guys from her art class, while sipping a bottle of Asshai beer. She waves at you enthusiastically, a smile stretching across her face.

“Hey, you made it!” Helaena shouts over the music, wrapping you in a quick hug. She smells like lavender and vodka, wearing a blue skater dress, a familiar and comforting combination. “I was starting to think you’d bail on me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, your voice barely audible over the thumping beats. You lean in closer. “This place is insane.”

Helaena laughs, nodding in agreement. “You should go say hi to Rhaena and Baela later. They’re out on the balcony, holding court as usual.”

As you nod, you can’t help but feel a little out of place, surrounded by people who seem to know exactly where they fit in this chaotic scene. You were a bit of a party animal too with Helaena, but the party here was madness. You grab a drink from the bar—something pink and fruity that burns just enough to remind you of its potency—and take a long sip, letting the alcohol warm you from the inside.

You seek out Baela and Rhaena. Both of them look divine in gold shimmery tops. They scream a little with excitement when you see them and hand some sourz shots for the three of you to do together.

After, you’ve been chatting with Helaena for a while, legs crossing over eachothers as you lounge on some chairs, when your attention is caught by two guys approaching. Even in the dim light, they stand out: one tall and dark-haired with broad shoulders, the other with brown curls, high cheekbones, and a rougish smile. They're both stunning in that unfairly effortlessly cool way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Hey, Hel,” the first one says with an easy smile. His eyes flick to you, holding your gaze a moment longer than polite. “Who’s your friend?”

Helaena grins, ever the mischievous meddler. “This is Y/N,” she says, gesturing toward you. “Y/N, meet Cregan Stark and Jacaerys Velaryon. They’re Baela’s best mates from uni. You guys both study politics and history with her, right?"

Cregan gives you a nod, his smile widening into something warmer, while Jacaerys offers you his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, his voice a low, pleasant rumble.

The conversation flows easily, the four of you finding common ground in shared interests and mutual acquaintances. Cregan regales you all about his recent backpacking trip through the Highlands, the beautiful scenery and his close scrapes with the law, while Jacaerys leans closer, drawing you into a discussion about your favorite bars and places in King's Landing. You find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks, the tension you carried into the party slowly melting away.

As the night deepens and Helaena ends up sneaking off with a mysterious girl named Sara who Cregan knows, the three of you drift outside to the balcony, the cool air a welcome relief from the heat inside. You lean against the railing, the city sprawled out before you while Cregan sparks up a cigarette for you. Below, the streetlights flicker like stars, the hum of traffic a distant lullaby.

“So, what do you think of the party?” Cregan asks, his voice low and inviting.

“It’s amazing,” you admit, taking a sip of your drink that Jace had grabbed for you, a Starfall Screwdriver. “You two must be close with Rhaena and Baela.”

“Yeah, we’ve known them forever,” Jacaerys replies, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. His gaze is steady, intent. “They throw the best parties.”

You nod, feeling the warmth of their attention settle over you like a physical presence. There’s something about the way they look at you—like they’re seeing you, really seeing you—and it makes your heart race in a way you can’t quite explain. You aren't blind to their eyes and where they're looking.

“So, Y/N,” Cregan begins, a playful glint in his eye. His arm rests on your shoulder after taking a drag. “What’s your deal? You seeing anyone?”

The question catches you off guard, your mind scrambling for a response. You hesitate, unsure of what to say. The truth is, your love life has been a series of near misses and almosts, leaving you jaded at a young age.

“Not really,” you finally reply, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. “I’ve been kind of focused on other things lately.”

Jacaerys leans closer, his expression thoughtful. “Like what?” His hand brushes your thigh, and you clench slightly. Cregan smirks, and Jace takes a long drink of his beer.

“Like work, mostly,” you say with a shrug, feeling suddenly self-conscious under their scrutiny. “And, you know, just figuring things out.”

Cregan exchanges a glance with Jacaerys, something unspoken passing between them. You feel a twinge of curiosity, wondering what they’re thinking.

“What about you two?” you ask, shifting the focus away from yourself. “Any girlfriends I should be worried about?”

Jacaerys chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, we’re both single. We're too busy having fun, I guess.”

“Though we do have something in mind tonight,” Cregan adds, his tone teasing, almost conspiratorial.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What’s that?” Jace looks amused at your obliviousness.

Cregan and Jacaerys exchange another look, this one filled with a kind of mischievous energy that makes your skin tingle with anticipation. You have the distinct feeling that whatever they’re about to say will lead to a very interesting night.

“Well,” Jacaerys says slowly, his eyes locked onto yours, “we were actually wondering if you’d be interested in something…a little different tonight.”

Your heart skips a beat, the possibilities flashing through your mind. You find yourself leaning in, caught in their magnetic pull.

“What do you have in mind?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan’s smile is all charm and challenge. “A threesome,” he says simply. “You, me, and Jace.”

You blink, your mind momentarily short-circuiting at the proposition. Of all the things you’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. And yet, the idea sends a thrill coursing through you, igniting something bold and adventurous that you didn’t quite realize was there.

“I—” You start, then pause, choosing your words carefully. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Jacaerys steps closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm, inviting shadow. “No pressure,” he says, his voice gentle but edged with excitement. “But we think you’re amazing. And we’d love to spend the night making you feel that way.”

Your pulse quickens at his words, the heat between you three palpable and undeniable. You consider their offer. They're both hot, both your type, and they both fancy you. The decision weighs on your mind, and yet, somewhere beneath the surface, you know exactly what you want.

Taking a deep breath, you meet their expectant gazes, a slow smile spreading across your lips. You down your drink. “Alright,” you say, your heart racing with anticipation. “Let’s do it.” They both smile, and their grip on you becomes a tad tighter.

“Great,” Cregan says. “How about we head back to ours? We live in a flat just a couple of minutes away.”

You nod, feeling a heady mix of nerves and thrill. As you follow them through the party, weaving through the throngs of people and neon-lit haze, you feel your heart and pussy begin to thrum.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The ride to their apartment is a blur of laughter and anticipation, the city lights streaking past like shooting stars. You sit between them in the backseat of the cab, your legs brushing against theirs, the proximity sending shivers up your spine. Cregan brushes your neck lightly with his knuckles, and you tense when Jace's hands move upwards from your knee to your inner thigh. Feeling both of their mouths so close to you, their hot breath and their longing, heated gazes makes your pussy clench, excited.

When you finally arrive, the apartment is everything you imagined—a stylish blend of modern and cosy, the kind of place that feels lived in and loved. As soon as the door closes behind you, Jacaerys presses you against the wall, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s all fire and passion. You melt into him, his hands gripping your shoulders tight and keeping you upright.

Cregan’s hands find your waist, pulling you from the wall and sandwiching himself behind you, his touch firm and grounding as he leans in to whisper in your ear. “You alright?” he asks, his voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. You can feel his hardness press into your ass from behind. You kick off your shoes and let Cregan pull your jeans down.

You nod, your breath hitching as Jacaerys trails kisses down your neck, his hands deftly unzipping his jeans. “More than alright,” you manage to say, the words a breathless promise. Jace rubs your thighs with his heavy hands and Cregan gropes your tits, pulling his shirt over his head.

You each undress, hands reaching out when not removing clothes to grasp at each other and kiss hotly, all tongues. You're not sure who you're kissing or who's kneading your ass when they guide you toward the bedroom.

Pushing you gently onto the bed, Jace turns to Cregan and kisses him, Cregan moaning lightly at the touch. Your pussy explodes ablaze at the sight, whimpering as the pair advance on you like wolves.

Cregan yanks your legs towards him, opening them and sighing at the sight.

"Oh, Jace, look at her," he smirks. "Already soaking wet and we haven't even started."

Jacaerys laughs lightly, kneeling besides your body as Cregan swipes a finger through your pussy slick. That draws a hot moan from your parted lips.

"Will you be good and let Cregan look after you?" Jacaerys asks, your eyes glued to his hardened cock that brushes against your tits as he leans down. You nod, moaning as he kisses you, and places your hand on his cock to stroke it.

Cregan takes his cue and sinks his mouth down onto your heat. You whimper loudly as he softly licks up your slick and begins sucking lightly on your aching clit. Encouraged by your reaction, he eats your pussy more fervently, devouring any juices and engufling your labia in his hot mouth.

Jace moans as you stroke his cock, Cregan watching the sight from between your legs. You reach down with your other hand to grasp Cregan's dark hair, pulling slightly. His eyes roll back and you notice his hand is between his legs, jerking his huge cock at the sight of you and Jace.

It's too much for you. You feel like you'll explode. Jacaerys grabs your tits and tweaks your tender nipples, and you moan, arching your back and feeling the start of an orgasm creep up on you.

"Come on Princess," Jace gasps. "Cum for us." He spills a thick white rope of cum over your tits. Cregan, eyes wide, eats your pussy with such vigour that he yanks an orgasm from you, and you howl as you cum. He jerks himself as he cums on your thighs.

Panting, you watch as Cregan approaches Jace. You would have expected yourself to be satisfied by now, but watching Jace lick the cum off himself and Cregan inflames your pussy once more. You wobble upwards, kneeling on the floor and engulfing Jace's cock with your mouth as you jerk Cregan's cock. The pair moan into eachothers mouths at the touch.

Leaning down, Cregan pulls you gently by the hair onto all fours. Your eyes widen as you realise what he means. Your mouth opens involuntarily as he makes you suck his fingers, chuckling to himself.

"You reckon she's ready?" Jace asks him. Cregan nods, eyes dark and glinting.

"Oh yes, her pussy's a mess. Look at how good she is, sucking my fingers," he removes them, smirking as you whine. "Don't worry girl, you'll be able to suck all you want."

He nudges his cock by your lips, and you swallow it whole. He begins thrusting lightly, moaning heavily at how good your mouth feels wrapped around his cock.

You startle when you feel Jacaerys' hard cock press against your pussy lips, gently easing inside as your eyes roll back. You feel so full as he settles deep inside you.

Jace begins thrusting against you, hitting that sweet spot deep inside that very few can reach whilst Cregan uses your hair to push you deeper onto his cock. Breathing through your nose, you sink down until his cock is deep in your throat, making a strangled moan come from his lips. You can feel the hot licks of pleasure build again inside as Jace rubs your clit as he pummels your pussy and gives you a healthy slap on your ass, watching it shake. His hands grab your hips and squeeze, leaving bruises that will spark some intense memories later.

Cregan huffs and you can tell he's close to finishing, so you swallow hard as his cock hits your throat again. He cries out and you feel ropes of salty cum filling up your mouth and throat.

You climax at the feeling, Jace's fingers carrying you over the edge as he pulls out and cums across your back. Your pussy flutters as you cum hard, collapsing on the floor as the two men pant and join you.

All three of you lie there, softly breathing and exchanging sweet kisses and looks. Cregan stands first, hauling you up to the bathroom to wipe you down whilst Jace grabs you some water each.

Sandwiched between them in bed again, you feel yourself drift off to sleep as Cregan and Jace hold you tight. You can only hope the next time with the pair will be even better.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: hope yall enjoyed that. i definitely prefer writing modern aus for some reason. any requests send them in, lmk if you want more like this!

[ajaxbell]

Fangs of Fortune (Bai Ze Ling): perfect on pure aesthetics alone, but also it will tear your heart out while being very gay.

I was lured in to this show by Tumblr gifsets and friends on Bluesky talking about how queer and poly this show is. I'm old and I've been in fandom more than half my life. I know how to read queer subtext. I'm also pretty well versed in cdramas, so again, I know how to read subtext. So I went into this ready to, well, read the subtext.

But no this show is just puts the queer it right there in the text. The vague information we have about Chinese censorship repeatedly left me asking, 'wait how are they getting away with this?' Like some of these jokes and implications are just so blatant it seems incredible this show ever made it to being broadcast. It just feels very much like queer media made for queer people even if t's more subtle than something western like Queer as Folk.

Even without the heavy coloring of gay this show is incredible and so much more than I expected from the title and the promo. The premise is essentially the death of the goddess, who governed relations between humans and demons, leads to an influx of demons in the human world. This brings together the goddess's disciple, Wen Xiao--seeking to restore the goddess's power. WX's childhood sweetheart, Zhuo Yichen--seeking to restore the demon-hunting bureau after the powerful demon Zhu Yan killed his father and brother. It opens on Zhu Yan, in human disguise as as Zhao Yuanzhou, volunteering to help the imperial court restore the demon-hunting bureau to quell the chaos. They are joined by Pei Sijing, a retired female general from the rival demon hunting sect, and a very young doctor (and comic relief) named Bai Jiu. It starts off as a sort of monster-of-the-week with a grim Scooby gang doing detective work and fighting monsters. Each major demon has a mini arc that relates to the larger case (restoring the power of the goddess to balance the realms), and they are repeatedly blocked by either the demons or the rival demon hunting sect. Each mini arc also acts as a mirror or parallel story to slowly revealed backstory of all the main characters as well. In true cdrama fashion it's a mix of adventure, intense emotional drama, romance, and comedy. And queer and poly jokes and romance. It also has a kind of manga vibe in the way the comedy is woven into the more serious story, and in the fantastical depiction of the characters and how the story unfolds.

It is also just insanely beautiful. Every single shot is lovely. The costumes, make up, and hair are incredible. The casting director made all the major demons inhumanly beautiful. The sets are spectacular. The effects are nicely done. Every bit of has the vague surreality of a fairytale. The perfection of each shot ads to the manga vibe, as if we're seeing each critical storytelling panel come alive. There's recurring water-based special effects that are just gorgeous. Based on aesthetics alone this show would be worth watching to me. That it is combined with a complex, very emotional story is a spectacular gift to the watcher. A lot of the negative reviews of this complain about the staginess or that it's overly contrived in how each scene is shot. But I think it's gorgeous, works perfectly with the storytelling, and if we criticize art on whether it achieves the goal it intended then this show is doing exactly and perfectly what it means to do and doing it beautifully.

Additionally the acting is also very good, but Neo Hou is the stand out for sure. I enjoyed him in Back from the Brink, especially the later part of the story, but in Fangs of Fortune he's transformed, utterly embodying the role, the way Dylan Wang is Dongfang Qingcang in Love Between Fairy and Devil. Neo Hou has the right look, a slightly uncanny beauty perfect for a gorgeous immortal not of this world. The show does incredible things with his styling between the various looks and personas the role requires. But in acting he somehow manages to utterly transform his face and demeanor to manifest each aspect of the character as story demands changes from him.

There is a lot of crying in this drama. Like early on I joked that there was going to be a character crying a single perfect tear in every ep. Lol nope. Multiple single perfect tears per ep and many outright full on sobbing scenes. This show is just waiting to rip your heart out and you see it right from the beginning. But it was such sweet pain all the way through. Just a truly engaging and utterly wrenching set of intertwined stories.

My only criticism is that the pacing falls apart in the last 3 episodes. But overall the story is solid through the end, though like so many cdramas, it's saved by the epilogue.

You should absolutely watch it if you want the chaotic bi polycule (it's her, her girlfriend, her boyfriend, her boyfriend's boyfriend who is also her boyfriend, their two idiot sons, and her boyfriend's ex-who is also eventually sort of his boyfriend again), or if you want your heart torn out and stomped on. Or even if you just like really gorgeous cinematic things. Also if you watch, please don't skip the ending credits, as they change as the arcs change, and the radiant joy Tian Jiarui has as he dances is an excellent antidote to the emotions of each episode.

[f1girliefics]

The Final Waltz

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Summary: After he was kicked from F1, he needed to put his focus elsewhere. And so, when a show asks him to participate, he becomes the new contestant on Dancing with the Stars.

The dazzling lights of the ballroom cast shimmering reflections across the polished floor, adding to the electric atmosphere of the finale night.

Your pulse quickened, not just from the excitement of competition but from the significance of this moment.

You and your dance partner, Daniel Ricciardo, had made it to the grand finale of Dancing with the Stars.

Daniel, the lively former Formula 1 driver, had been the wildcard of the season, winning over the crowd not just with his charm but with his determination to perfect every move you taught him.

“Think we can pull this off one more time?” Daniel’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.

He stood beside you, his dark suit immaculate, his familiar grin lighting up his face.

“That depends,” you joked, straightening your sparkly dress and posture. “Are you ready to keep up with me?”

Daniel laughed softly, a sound that somehow always helped your nerves.

The music swelled, and the routine you made just for this dance unfolded like a dream.

Every step, turn, and lift fell into place, a fulfilment of weeks of effort and trust.

The audience erupted into applause as the final pose was held.

After the dance, it was the nerves. Daniel tried his best to calm you.

"If we win, fantastic, but if we don't, great. My goal was to win but I'm just glad I got to experience this with you." he smiled at you which you returned as the last dance finished.

Now, it was time.

Time to call the winners.

Time to see if you failed or not.

You didn't like to lose and neither did Daniel. Racing was in your blood much like in his.

Just while he drove cars, you danced.

You barely registered the host declaring you the winner. Daniel hugged you so tight that you almost lost consciousness.

The glittering trophy was pushed into your hands, but the moment felt surreal, it wasn't until they requested an encore of your winning dance that you collected yourself.

As the opening notes played, Daniel extended his hand to you with a smile, his gaze steady and warm. That damn smile of his.

The two of you moved across the floor, the chemistry between you is unmistakable.

Near the end, after a final spin left you in his arms, he paused, his eyes searching yours.

He was looking for something.

“I didn’t think I’d find more than just a competition here,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the crowd.

Your heart skipped, but before you could respond, Daniel leaned down and kissed you.

The noise of the ballroom faded away, leaving only the sensation of his lips on yours.

It was gentle yet confident, a moment of clarity in the whirlwind of the evening.

When he drew back, his smile reappeared, a vulnerability shining through. “You’ve changed everything for me. These weeks... I didn’t just learn to dance. I found something I didn’t know I was looking for.”

“I thought you were just here for the challenge.” You blinked back the emotion rising in your chest, whispering. You didn't want to cry.

“I was,” he admitted with a chuckle, brushing his thumb lightly across your cheek. “But somewhere along the way, the real challenge became keeping my feelings for you to myself.”

The applause swelled, pulling you both back to the present. Daniel raised your hand in victory, his eyes never leaving yours, as the celebration roared around you.

The real prize, you realized, wasn’t the trophy shining under the lights, it was the man standing beside you, whose heart you had won one step at a time.

[queenshelby]

The Peaky Role (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad

It has been two days since you received the e-email that would forever change your life and the first person you wanted to tell was not your father Dermont, but rather your best friend Nina.

You could almost feel the weight of the email on your chest as you walked toward the coffee shop where you and Nina often met, the buzz of Dublin’s streets merging into a backdrop of excitement.

You've known Nina ever since highschool. Your two fathers have been friends for years, and their bond essentially stitched together a friendship for the both of you that felt as natural as breathing.

At twenty years old, Nina was the oldest of three children, with her younger brother being seventeen and her other sister being fifteen.

You, on the other hand, were an only child but never felt lonely, thanks to the chaos your friends often brought into your life. You were twenty years old as well and just finished an eighteen months drama course at Dublin's Theatre School, and finally, you felt the thrilling rush of your dreams inching closer.

As you pushed open the cafe door, the bell chimed, pulling Nina’s head up from her book. She looked up, knowingly expectant, and set it aside.

“Tell me you haven’t been here long,” you said, sliding into the seat across from her, breathless with urgency. You had a habit of being late unless it came to work committments and Nina should have been used to it by now.

“Only a few minutes," Nina replied, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Oh good. I am sorry for being late. Again," you told her with a slight chuckle before breaking out in a big grin.

Nina raised an eyebrow, leaning forward, the hint of a smile dancing on her lips.

"Why are you smiling at me like this?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together in mock suspicion.

"Well," you started as you tapped your fingers on the table, trying to calm the electric excitement bubbling in your chest.

"I got... I got a part! In a movie!" you told her and Nina immediatly squeaked and nearly knocked her coffee over.

"What? A movie? How? When? What's it called?" she wanted to know and, even though her father was a rather famous Oscar winning actor with countless accolades, the excitement in her voice sounded genuine, almost as if she didn’t have connections to the industry.

“Don't get angry, but," you began to respond, drawing it out “I auditioned for the Peaky movie six weeks ago, and I just found out that I got a part!”

Her eyes widened as she leaned back, processing your words as if they were a punchline to a joke.

"You know that you could have asked my dad for a role or something, right?" Nina said, excitedly nonetheless.

“I know, but I wanted to do this on my own. I didn’t want his name backing me up,” you said, excitement battling against nerves.

Nina pressed her lips together, reconsidering. “Well, congratiolations then. I think that’s huge!" she chimmed in excidetly.

“Thanks! It feels surreal to even say it out loud. I auditioned for three different roles and I didn't expect to get any of them to be honest," you said as you propped your chin on your hands, watching the steam rise from her coffee.

“But you are fantastic and Steven Knight would have seen that right away ," she replied, her voice filled with sincerity.

"Now tell me though, does my dad know yet?" she asked before carrying on. "How about your dad? Does he know?" she wanted to know, excitement evident in her voice.

“Not sure about your dad, seeing how he is a producer on the show, but I haven't told anyone yet. I wanted you to be the first to know," you said, leaning forward.

Nina's eyes sparkled with mischief as she wanted to know more about your first movie role. “Well, he hasn't said anything to me yet, so I guess he does not know," Nina stated, a big smile stretching across her lips. "Now tell me though, what role did they give you?" she asked and, of course, this was a question you dreaded to answer.

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. “I’m playing… Thomas Shelby's new love interest," you told her with a hint of ermberassment in your voice and watched as her face froze mid-sip.

“Wait, hold up. Thomas Shelby's love interest?" she gasped, nearly spilling her coffee. "You mean his new wife or his new fling, because from what I understand, there two roles like this in the movie," Nina said, having secretly read the script.

"The fling. The young girl he meets in Small Heath,” you clarified, leaning in, your voice lowering slightly, almost conspiratorially as if sharing a secret with her. "I would be way too young to play his wife," you clarified as Nina leaned back, wide-eyed, her fingers curling around her coffee cup as if bracing for impact.

“Jesus Y/N,” Nina continued, her eyes narrowing. "You can't possibly take that role," she declared, her voice scratching at the edges of disbelief.

"Why not?" you asked, a little suprised by her change in demure.

“Because it means you’ll have to make out with my dad!” she blurted out, her voice rising an octave as if discovering a scandal in a soap opera.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “It’s just acting, Nina!" you chuckle, feeling amused by her dramatic reaction.

“You still need to kiss him, don't you?" Nina gripped her coffee cup tightly, her eyes wide with mock horror. "I mean, eeww!"

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. "It's not that bad," you continued, the laughter bubbling up again. “It’s like a stage kiss. You just… do it. Lights, camera, action, and then you move on. It's all pretend.”

Nina scoffed, shaking her head like you’d just offered her brussels sprouts for dessert.

“Pretend or not, it’s still my dad,” she huffed, crossing her arms like a stubborn child. "He is old and it's disgusting!"

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Your dad is not that old. He’s—”

“Forty-eight!” she interjected, voice booming like an air horn.

“He looks younger," you defended, defending both Cillian’s age and your newfound opportunity.

Nina rolled her eyes, her expression a blend of disbelief and exasperation. “You’re seriously going to kiss my dad on camera, and if that doesn’t scream 'public embarrassment,' for the both of us then I don’t know what does!”

You leaned back, arms crossed in mock defiance. "He might be your dad, but I can positivly guarantee you that a lot of girls our age would so want to be me when that happens," you mused, joking about the tidal wave of jealousy that was bound to crash over their heads.

Nina rolled her eyes dramatically. “Right,” she laughed like the devil's advocate has appeared. "I am so not going to watch this movie now," she proclaimed, shaking her head before deciding to finally change the topic.

****

Meanwhile, Cillian arrived on set in Liverpool. He had flown in from Dublin that same morning in order to attend a meeting between the producers and the casting director.

Filming was just around the corner, starting in less than eight weeks, and only a few days ago, the final cast members were selected by Shaheen, the casting director.

Cillian stepped into the bustling studio, the air thick with excitement, chatter, and the hum of activity. Crew members maneuvered around with equipment while costumes were being meticulously arranged nearby amidst the chaos. Cillian walked through the flurry, his deep blue eyes scanning the room, searching for familiar faces.

There was a lot to get ready now and everything had to be done swiftly.

“Cillian!” Shaheen’s voice cut through the chatter, pulling his attention. He turned to see the casting director striding toward him, the usual energy in her step indicating that there was something important to discuss.

"We had a few last minute changes to the cast as three of our initially selected applicants are no longer available," she said, her brow furrowing slightly.

Cillian sighed, bracing for whatever news followed. “What’s the change? I thought things were solid by now.”

“Right, so the change is—” Shaheen started, pulling out the list. "We have secured Rebecca Ferguson now to play Thomas Shelby's wife. But we already discussed this possibility last week and you approved." Shaheen explained and Cillian nodded, recalling the conversation with Shaheen and Steven and welcoming the change.

"We also have a young man by the name of James Dwyer who will be playing one of the new gang members. It's not a big part, but integral. He seemed talanted and has the right looks. You've got some scenes with him," she continued, flipping through her notes.

"Right, sounds good so far," Cillian replied, nodding approvingly. He continued to scan the room, searching faces for anyone he knew. "Then there's the last casting announcement," Shaheen said, her fingers flicking through the papers. Cillian’s interest piqued, his gaze sharpening.

“Go on, then. Hit me with it,” he urged, curiosity knotting in his stomach.

Shaheen took a breath, seemingly savoring the suspense. “We were trying to find the perfect fit for Thomas Shelby’s love interest, and after extensive auditions, the role went to a somewhat unknown actress instead of the talents you had in mind," she said, glancing at her notes again before locking eyes with Cillian. "But she was by far the most talanted and fits the description of the role," she concluded.

“Okay, what's her name?” Cillian asked, wondering whether he had heard of it before.

“Y/N Whelan,” Shaheen said, her voice steady but the slightest hint of curiosity danced in her eyes. "I believe she is from Dublin too," she explained as Cillian choked on his water.

He coughed, a ripple of confusion mixing with the unexpected twist of emotion. “Y/N Whelan?” he asked before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, disbelief creeping into his features as he processed the information.

“Yes," Shaheen nodded, her brow furrowing slightly at his reaction as she handed him your application form with photograph. “Do you know her?”

Cillian stared at the photograph, disbelief washing over him. Your bright eyes sparkled with a mix of ambition and innocence, while a playful smile graced your lips. It was all too surreal. Cillian stared at the photograph, his mind racing.

“Fuck," Cillian muttered under his breath, running a hand through his grey hair, suddenly feeling the weight of this new development.

“What’s wrong?” Shaheen raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in his

"She is my best friend’s daughter,” he said, barely masking the surprise in his voice as he rubbed his temple, feeling the heat of an immovable conflict settling in.

Shaheen blinked, clearly processing the revelation. “And that’s an issue… why?"

Cillian leaned against the table, wrestling with his thoughts. “Because I don’t want to be the one making out with her on screen. She's new to the industry. She’s got that raw talent, sure, but she’s… she’s Y/N,” he stuttered, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Cillian,” Shaheen interrupted, her voice steadying as she placed a hand on his arm. “She was by far the best for the role and you know how this works but, if you want me to cast someone else, then I will do it,” she offered, her tone firm but gentle.

Cillian shook his head, torn. “No, no. That’s not fair to her. She earned it,” he replied, positioning himself upright, resolving to put aside his discomfort.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[wipormont]

A question for you if you have the time/energy to answer! I find myself constantly studying how you use color and replicate vescera and 'off' anatomy in your paintings. I aspire to draw things that are surreal and more fleshy (even "scary"), but my attempts fall flat. They always turn out plain or dare I say cutesy. Do you have any advice on how to achieve a more visceral image or how you would recommend getting a feel for bending human proportions?

Thank you for your time and for sharing your fantastic art! It's always really cool to see what you've got cooking up.

Hello!

For the colors, Something really helps me up with my paintings, was to start using, complementary colors, for example reds and greens really works well, makes this felling of fleshy, and makes this natural lighting on the meat!

Really start to play more with the harmonies are going to help you to make the painting looks more alive!

Here is example:

For the anatomy, really just play with them, the human face is not perfect, and is not symmetrical, has ears longer that other, nose comes is some beautiful shapes and forms, mouths and teeth same hehe. Don't worry if sometimes the anatomy looks off, sometime we need to exaggerated them to make a character express more feeling.

The flesh is one my favorite part of all my process, is to find the way to make this fleshy, or broken part of the character. I try to make a logical way to make it feel real, but at the same part make it exaggerated. Something really helps me is to see horror movies, or old horror movies with practical effects, really inspired me to make this abstract gory!

Artist like: Ken Currie, Francis Bacon, Francisco de Goya really inspired me!

And for the last, it took me a lot of errors to find the way I like to paint my weird creatures. Horror come in some many ways, is not just to make a scary monster with teeth and scary eyes. I mean yeah that is a valid one haha. But I think the idea of loneliness, or the process of becoming the monster like the movie The Fly, or books like Frankenstein really help me up to see others ways of horror!

I hope this help you! Sorry for the long text! I'm sorry if my English is weird or broken, I'm still trying to get better on that, haahhaah.

Thank you so much for the ask!

[humlors]

Wait which billford fics pspspspsps

gotta say, it feels just a little surreal and silly to make a billford fic rec list in the year of our lord 2024, but hell yeah sure

There's an Endless Road by @agentquinn is one of those fics I reread like. at least once a year at this point. Post-canon, human!bill (absolute trash gremlin, as he should be), roadtrip with Bill, Stan and Ford. Cannot understate how much of a comfort fic this is to me. Do yourself a favor and read it

Also by Quinn, State of Dreaming is very much as the description of "One of Us AU, sort of". I remember for real gasping when figuring out what was going on. It's dark, it's just the right flavor of a bit surreal, it's fantastic

In All My Dreams I Drown (also by Quinn, I swear I've read fics from different authors) is a Pirates of the Caribbean AU with Bill as Calypso, Ford as Davy Jones that kickstarted me and @swiftboone talking non stop about this AU for months on end back in the day. Here's a masterpost of the AU of all of the wonderful peeps contributing to it!

While not really a billford fic, if you're on the Bill canon backstory high rn, please please PLEASE read Flat Dreams by @pengychan. It's an absolute masterpiece that very much made me weep reading back in the day. 100% one of those fics I want everyone who's into GF to have read at least once.

If you're not intimidated by long (LONG) fics, I slavishly followed Knowing Me, Knowing You by @f-imaginings back when. On surface, a typical 'bill gets trapped in a human body pre-betrayal' fic, but holy damn does it go places. equal parts rom com with an ABBA theme, equally character study/exploration with some great sci fi stuff

for something shorter, this fic by @marypsue is 100% one of my fave AU concepts of 'bill losing his own powers to make Ford a demon instead, making himself human in the process'. It's so good, bill being his usual trash baby self while coming to terms with the whole "being powerless" thing.

Anyway, these are the one's I can come up with from the top of my head! I've still got a whole heap of GF/billford fic recs under my fic rec tag, so that's another place to go searching! (and what the hell, shameless self promo of my own old fics lmao)

happy hunting for those fics my friend!!

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Mamma Masterlist

yay quinn on a well deserved norris trophy win!

"Oh my God," Is all I can say as Quinn's name gets called for the Norris Trophy. Jack standing to my left prompts my legs to do the same, trying my hardest to take a wiggling Ellie from Quinn while Cohen sleeps on my hip, just five months old.

My face nearly splits open from the smile I'm wearing, Quinn ducking in to kiss my lips as he places Ellie on my other hip, kissing the top of her head and the top of Cohens. He moves down the line, hugging Luke and Jack and his parents before moving to the stage.

"Here, Elle Belle, come sit with Uncle Jack," Jack offers, her running over as soon as she's on the ground to take a seat with her 'favorite' uncle.

Thank you, I mouth, Jack just smiling as Luke takes my hand that's not holding the baby to my lap, offering me a smile as the tears trail down my cheeks in joy.

Tears are in my eyes as Quinn makes it up, standing in a room of legends to take his trophy and the microphone.

"First off," He begins, smile bright as day. "I'd like to thank my teammates. It's a great group of guys, and - um -" He pauses, and although I've caught him on more than one occasion practicing for this moment in our bathroom mirror, he needs this moment to think through the next minute and a half.

"The reality of winning an award like this is you can't do it alone, and you really need good players around you. And I certainly have that, so thanks fellas."

"Um- to my coaching staff, great group of people, love playing for you guys. Um- Patrik Allvin and Jim Rutherford, thank you for your continued mentorship and trust. To the Aquilini family, Roberto and Francesco, for being here, nobody cares about the city and the fans more than you guys, so thank you."

"Momma," Ellie tries to whisper, stealing my attention, "Daddy got his award?"

"Yes, baby, Daddy won," I answer, Jack and Luke smiling the brightest.

"And to my family more than anything-" I can't help but look to the Hughes beside me, people who have been in my life for years, and be eternally grateful that I was accepted into it. "My brothers, its surreal to be able to go through the same profession as you guys, and my parents, for your continued support and love."

"And to my wonderful fiance," Oh God I'm not prepared for this. His eyes meet mine, smile growing impossibly larger. "This has been the first season I've been blessed enough to be a father, and truly I feel that's what drove me to be the best captain I could be. I love you and thank you for bringing our gorgeous kids into the world."

I blow him a kiss, tears still streaming as Lu squeezes my hand, chuckling.

"He was nicer to you than he was to us," He mumbles, entirely a joke, but it does earn a small laugh.

"And most importantly and lastly," Quinn continues, eyes on the trophy in hand, "to Roman Josi, congrats on a great season, wherever you are-" His eyes scan the crowd, chuckling when he finds the man in question. "There you are, when I think Nashville Predators, I think you, and you're a fantastic player and they're lucky to have you."

He turns, eyes landing on their next target.

"And Cale, I probably love watching my brothers play most, but I'd say you're next on that list, and I've learned a lot from you, so um, congrats on another great season, and appreciate you guys. Thank you."

His eyes meet mine, smile wide and eyes wrinkled at the corner in joy.

This is my boy, the father of my children and the man I love.

I could not be more proud.

[secondbeatsongs]

Hello, you said in some tags in a poll that Speed Racer (2008) is your favorite film. If you’re okay with it, I’d really like to hear more about why you love it. I love the Wachowskis’ work (they’re among my favorite directors), but I kinda ended up bouncing off Speed Racer (2008). So, hearing that it had a real impact on someone makes me very curious why. I’m not interested in criticizing your opinion or arguing with you, I’d just really like to know why you love it in the hopes I might be able to enjoy that movie more in the future.

oh god this is from seven months ago, I'm so sorry - but I do love almost everything about Speed Racer (2008) and I still think about it nearly every day.

I love that it's so bright and colorful and absurd. I love that it's an anime in live action form. and I love that at its heart, it is a story about love.

it's about the mistakes people make out of love, and the consequences of that. it's about the way children grow to understand why the adults around them make the choices they do, and maybe choose to do the same things. it's about taking risks for the people you love, and the pain of failing to change the world, because everything is capitalism and everything hurts.

(and it's also about being transgender btw. like, that's one of the main things about it - it is very much a movie about being transgender)

what if your father's choices hurt your older brother, and your older brother's choices hurt you, and now it's you and your younger brother staring down a future where you're going to end up hurting him by making the same choice?

and then...what if you can escape that? what if the broken parts put themselves back together, and the hope doesn't run out, and you're not alone with the things that haunt you? what then?

and now you're at the end and mistakes were still made, people were still hurt, but everyone's grown and changed and they're different now. and they've figured out that maybe, just maybe, you can change the world by doing something you love, by creating art and beauty and making people feel things.

maybe you really can defeat capitalism by driving a car really fast. and even if everyone thinks you can't...don't you have to try anyway? shouldn't you fight with the skills you have, the only way you know how?

what if it works?

and I'm not even gonna get into most of the Racer X stuff (because I want people to go watch this movie, and most folks probably won't be spoiled for it), but his whole deal is just...everything. I love him.

(if there's a guy from Speed Racer that I want to put in a jar and shake every so often, or maybe wrap in a blanket so he can have a nice nap, it's Racer X. he's a great character. prime blorbo material)

anyway I've been rotating this movie in my head ever since I saw it for the first time, and I think I've seen it...seven? times now? and I still cry at the final race, and I still get blown away by the intro sequence.

(the beginning of the movie is genuinely one of the best things I've ever seen - it does an amazing job of introducing you to the world and the story of the characters, and gets you emotionally invested in it right from the start. it's fantastic filmmaking)

also like. story stuff aside, from a technical standpoint, the movie is a masterpiece. it's the type of thing that people hated when it first came out, but when you look at it now and see how it was made, how it intentionally looks bizarre and cartoonish, plastic and surreal, you can see the exact vision the Wachowskis were going for, and it's brilliant.

the way they did the visual effects, the way they made the outdoor scenes feel so detailed, the way the driving and the tracks work - they put so much thought into that, and the behind-the-scenes vids show how cool their process was.

also uhhh cars go vroom, crash into each other, flip upside down, explode, maybe have bees and hammers in them sometimes?

(the above is me complimenting the unhinged vibe of the races themselves, which I love very much)

anyway I could make other full posts about the script of the film and how much I love it, or the cool side characters, or the fanfic potential of the amazing world of the film, or how I can prove that it's set in 1991...but I guess if anyone wants those rants, they'll just have to watch the film and then come talk to me. :)

(please. please come talk to me about Speed Racer.)

so, yeah! I kinda lost my mind there and made this post way longer than I intended, but I do feel strongly affected by this movie, and I hope this has helped explain why.

[thewalrusespublicist]

I straight up don’t think that story in skywriting set in Paris ever even remotely happened, I think this is John working through the mix of complex feelings he has about Paul in some sort of semi autobiographical fantasy/thought experiment type thing? I think it’s undeniable it’s about Paul, but wether or not the contents of it are true is a little more suspect, the thing is it’s not the point to me, like, the fact that he’s fantasising about having passionate hate love sex with his boy bestie is the real convicting evidence 😭

Hi Anon,

Pretty much entirely agree! Not going to lie, I love this section of Skywriting as it’s so tantalising. Like what's fact and what's fiction? Where does fantasy overtake the narrative entirely and when does reality trickle through? The line between the two is often blurred in Skywriting as it is in most of John’s creative work.

As to it being an entirely fantastical thought experiment or a semi-autobiographical, I think I lean towards the latter only in the broadest sense.

*One sec, lemme adjust my tin-hat.*

I’m pretty much on the bandwagon that this section is a highly embellished, fantastical account of the summer of 66’ or a pastiche of trips to Paris. John, as he does elsewhere in Skywriting, obscures or replaces the real life event or word with clever wordplay and surrealist imagery. Instead of putting that he was acting abroad in Spain, he uses a play on ‘method acting’ to come up with ‘methodist acting’ and invents a more ‘exotic’ location of Jamaica. Edit 1: @this-never-happened-before has kindly informed me that the British capital of Jamaica was called 'Spanish Town' and Spanish Town still exists as the Capital of St Catherine's province. It's nowhere near definitive proof of course but it's really interesting to think about and could explain if John was thinking of summer 66' why he chose Jamaica as a substitute for Spain. Instead of saying he met up with Paul and co in Paris, he gets a summons from Aime to go to Paris. Whilst the name Aime is obviously part of the allusions to homosexuality and the surreal angle, ‘aime’ nevertheless means ‘friend’ in french. Less discussed is the fact that Aime is also a comrade, which by definition is a friend or someone who works in the same organisation as you or is a fellow soldier. ‘Military buddies’ anyone? So he’s being summoned by someone he defines as being his friend and ‘brother-in-arms’. Pinning it down further to the summer of 66’ is the ‘God Only Knows’ reference. This to me is where I threw my hands up because well, wouldn’t you know guess whose favourite song it is and who played it to death in 66’:

(On the influence of Pet sounds on John)

PAUL: I played it to John so much that it would be difficult for him to escape the influence. If records had a director within a band, I sort of directed Pepper. And my influence was basically the Pet Sounds album. John was influenced by it, perhaps not as much as me. It was certainly a record we all played – it was the record of the time, you know?

Edit 2: I've discussed this a bit in the comments but thought it should go here in the main ask. To me it seems really unlikely that John, who lived and breathed music, communicated to his friends in coded song lyrics and measured time periods by songs (according to Mintz) would not have an especial association with Paul and God Only Knows, especially as Paul would not let up on how much he loved it. Loving someone romantically or platonically means remembering little details like that.

Furthermore, I did a bit more digging and found that John himself loved Pet Sounds but he never mentioned God Only Knows as one he particularly loved. I did however notice an anecdote from Alice Cooper recalling John talking to Brian Wilson about Pet Sounds in the mid 70s. In it John discusses Pet Sounds as something both he and Paul admired together.

''Hello Brian, I’ve always wanted to meet you. I’ve always admired your work, and Paul and I considered Pet Sounds one of the best albums ever made.''

To add to all this, you have:

staying at the George V, the same place John and Paul stayed at when they went to Paris the second time in 64’ (I couldn't find where they stayed in 66’ but it may have been the same hotel).

 ‘the underlying bastard’ of their relationship which has many possible meanings when it comes to John and Paul (jealousy, competitiveness etc.)

 dating of ‘three months’ before a big fall out. Three months takes us nowhere … but three years takes us to 1969 when things really started to go to hell for them

Then leaving in a seething rage but being like a force fed baby about them… a pretty great description of growing up loving someone and spending so much time with them from a young age or just being bombarded with information and memories about someone like John was with Paul in the 70s

Pure tin hat bollocks ignore me but the 'don't take me for granite Perry', 'Never' I sang reminds me so much of the Oh! Darling recording sessions.

The move from the third to first person in the last part of the section. It could be John acting as an omniscient narrator or revealing that there are certain truths to the story that affect him personally

 ‘To this day, his memories of her are clear and fresh.  Like a force-fed baby, he’ll never forget, and neither, I hope, will she.’’

So yes, whilst I am open to it being coincidental and just pure fantasy, I do think it is at the very least a little inspired by that summer or by his trips to Paris in general. But if the Aime is/is inspired by anyone real, it’s Paul. Aside from the history of Paris in their relationship and the God Only Knows reference, there’s also that John’s Mon Pau Pau demo:

Source: https://got-ticket-to-ride.tumblr.com/post/733073861959139328/john-chanelling-a-french-singer-in-an-audio-from (thank you @got-ticket-to-ride, I don't know how the hell you got hold of this but amazing you did)

I’m unsure with the transcription of the ‘garter … prod’ as Dogget could be right and it’s cartier … throat (though as an aside it’s always wild to me that his transcription removes the Pau Pau section, surely he knew enough about the Beatles + solo work to immediately get the reference and significance?) Nevertheless, John’s in this demo places Paul in the role of a coquettish women which would give the section of Skywriting precedence.

So if it’s potentially autobiographical, how true is the sleeping together bit? Honestly, I agree that I doubt they did it for too many reasons to go into here. But then why on earth has he written this? The tone of the passage is quite light-hearted so I don't think it's delving into any real feeling of angst or forbidden desire. Edit 3: @idontwanttospoiltheparty has raised that there isn't any real reason that John couldn't be playfully writing out a fantasy about Paul for various reasons. Considering John's mercurial moods towards Paul and the playful demo, I am inclined to agree that this was an oversight on my part and perfectly plausible. Aside from playful exploration or a personal joke about the potential boundary-crossing of their relationship, John could be describing their songwriting process. I can't find them right now (which is driving me crazy) but there are a few quotes from Paul which talk about John and Paul taking it in turns to 'turn each other on' with their music. Maybe John was riffing off that supplanting the intense, emotional act of songwriting with sex? Or maybe Paul was a very loose inspiration and the characters and their sexual relationships became their own. It's so hard to decide and discern but absolutely, the fact that he is potentially willing to go there in his mind indicates at least some acknowledgement that maybe feelings/ the relationship wasn't 1000 percent platonic or blurred the boundaries of a standard heterosexual male friendship for the time.

[another-fanfic-haven]

Stress

so, uhhh. comfort post. i'm extremely uncomfortable since yes. Word count: 1209 Song? If anyone's interested: Nikitata - Paranoia

What a terrible luck you must have. You thought your life was getting back on track after you took the chance and moved out of your parents' homestead, diving head-first into the unknown.

And now, all your choices come to bite back, reminding you of all the unresolved issues you carry.

You thought you had your life figured out and your career path chosen. Now, doubt is clouding your conscience. Was that the right path? Why does it feel so wrong? That's what I wanted to do, for Christ's sake!

But you feel... trapped. Trapped in a career with no sight of going anywhere higher, trapped in a crappy, tiny apartment, not to mention - shared with a person you know nothing but their name.

But you can't return either. Your pride isn't letting you. To come back, would mean to admit a defeat, hanging a white flag, and proving everyone around you right; You aren't as good as you made yourself seem.

You sat in front of your computer, staring blankly at the blinking cursor in an open document - a report waiting for you to finish it, your hands clawing into your arms with bruising strength, clinging onto any sensory stimuli - even pain. God, it is horrible, isn't it? You feel like you're fading in and out of existence, your heart beating rapidly, indicating another wave of that dreaded feeling - the feeling of uncertainty, surreality. Nothing feels real - YOU don't feel real. Closing your eyes and breathing isn't helping you much either - and if anything - it makes the sensation worse, plaguing your vision with terrifying figures and flashbacks to the gruesome crime scene photographs. The sounds around you disappear, replaced by deafening screech in your ears.

Oh gods another wave.

And now you feel like the whole universe is judging you, staring straight through the persona you've maintained so well for so long - you're not as strong as you made yourself seem.

"Hey, are you okay?" A voice rang through the booming sound in your head, paired with a warm sensation on your shoulder. Someone noticed your struggle, fantastic as if this day couldn't get any worse! The hand pulled on your shoulder, turning the chair - and you on it - away from the screen. You couldn't look up, frozen in this hunched position. All you could see were the deep blue button-up shirt, neatly tucked into the combat pants.

The person sighed, either in pity or worry. Or both.

"You're taking a break, rookie." The person stated, pulling you gently up from the chair and wrapping one arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to their body. "Redfield! Be useful for once and make some tea for them. Chamomile if there's any left."

Your conscience came back - at least for a moment. You looked up sheepishly, squinting your eyes against the bright light. Albert glanced down at you, giving you a soft nod and nudging you to come with him. Not like you had any choice - he held you close and tight to his side. He was gentle with you, leading you into his office, making you sit on the soft, leather chair - the same one you sat all these months ago during your interview. Except now you were a trembling, anxious mess, digging your nails so deep into your arms that they left crescent-shaped scars.

His hands gently pulled your hands away from further hurting yourself, holding each of your palms in his. He kneeled in front, looking into your eyes - or trying to, you're staring blankly into your hands - now held by Albert. His thumbs traced across your knuckles, gently pressing on them, giving you the comfort you clearly need.

"Wait here." He stood up, placing your hands on your knees. The warm, comforting sensation left as he made his way across his office, and before you knew it, your body felt enveloped in something - heavy and soft - his officer jacket. The weight feels like a balm for your sore body, cocooning and grounding.

Gods, not again. You're on the verge of tears. And for what reason? Hell, if you knew. You close your eyes shut, praying silently, trying and hoping that this burning sensation in your throat and tears threatening to spill from under your eyelids will dissipate.

His hands returned to yours the moment the first tear rolled down your cheek. His touch was... oddly gentle. You've never expected this cold captain to have such warm, tender hands.

"Hey. Calm down." He whispered, looking at you. His expression was... sympathetic. If you can call the usual deadpan face with an almost clinical gaze disguised by worry gentle in any way, that is.

"Tell me what you see. Look around, describe it." He nudged your hands, pressing onto every finger. You nodded, lifting your head and looking around. Your head feels so wrong, empty and busy, thoughts running through like on a highway, yet you can't find the right words.

"I- I see..." You stuttered, battling the sensation that you were about to break apart. You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts one more time - at least attempting to. "I see... bookshelves. Your computer. Some binders... The S.T.A.R.S. banner? Or is it a poster?" You focused your eyes on the decoration behind his chair - the same insignia you and he display so proudly on your shoulders.

"It's a banner, good observation." He nodded, moving his hands to your wrists, massaging the inner parts with his thumb. "What else do you see."

You swallowed the tears, giving the room one more look. You shuddered a shaky breath, the tension in your body leaving with each breath you took, growing steadier, calmer.

"I see... a desk lamp, with a cord hanging from it. And the desk, it's dark and looks heavy. I see... metal blinds on the window. And a coat hanger by the door."

And as if on command, Chris barged in with a large mug in his hands.

"Sorry Wesker, had to convince Becca to use her tea col-" He called, his voice cutting halfway through once he saw you - hunched over and Wesker's hands resting on yours. "Shit should've knocked..." He added.

"You should've," Albert commented. His demeanor immediately seemed to change from caring to cold and bossy in an instant. How does he do that? "Put the tea on the desk and leave."

Chris did as ordered, trying to not overstep his welcome. He hurried, giving you one sidelong glance - looks like he's worried, too. The doors closed behind him as he left, leaving the two of you alone once more.

Albert stood up, leaving your hands alone - after they trailed behind his, longing for more of the contact. Nothing good lasts forever, after all.

"Drink this. It should make you feel better. And you're taking the rest of the day off. No whining, no "buts" you're in no shape to work." He handed you the mug, placing it in your hands and guiding them into the handle.

"Now, do you have someone to check on you later?" He asked, leaning on his desk and crossing his arms on his chest.