#and it also can be a bluetooth speaker so I can play my Spotify through it if I want to too

[nialls-harmonica]

I bought a record player and now I’m listening to all my dad’s old records and I really love this🥹

[underoossss]

Dress - S.H

paring: steve harrington x f!reader

MODERN STEVE AU

warnings: minors dni!!!! this is rated M and it’s for 18+ ONLY, if you don’t have your age specified in your blog and interact I’ll block u bc this isn’t for you. (rated this mature so check your settings in case you can't read it).

an: *posts this and disappears* it’s the first time I’m writing something like this. It’s set in the modern day, and inspired by dress by t swift. There’s no plot? I mean there is bc it’s a friends to lovers getting together fic. But it’s also not a complete smut piece? I’m just playing around with the genre here and I hope you like it.

Masterlist

——

The sound of high heels clicking on concrete follows you home, four pairs of high heels to be exact. Your group of friends consisting on Nancy, Robin and Mae had agreed on a girls night out to a fancy restaurant tonight, and after a fun night the four of you now walk back to your apartment to wind down for a bit. The wind has a bite to it, but none of you wear jackets. Instead you brave the wind until you see your apartment building in the distance. It was a fun time for everyone tonight, the food had been great, the conversation fun an entertaining and after weeks of not managing to make your schedules work, having a night for yourselves was needed. You’d even refused to make plans with Steve, your best friend, in favour of going out with them. In retrospect though, it was the best thing you could do as you needed some space from him. He’s been on holiday for a few months, with lots of free time which means the two of you spend a lot of time together. Hanging out with him more often than usual has made your feelings for him —the ones you’ve harboured for years— come to the surface and simmer under your skin every time he looks at you with those beautiful brown eyes of his. Yes, space is exactly what you need.

The four of you are all a bit more carefree after two cocktails each, not drunk or tipsy, but happier. The carpeted floor of the hallway swallows the clicking of your heels as all of you walk out of your building’s elevator on the fifth floor and wait outside your door. You fish your keys out of your clutch and unlock it, gesturing everyone to go in first before you lock the door behind you and follow them. Robin immediately goes to the kitchen to plug in her phone to your charger and connects her Spotify to your Bluetooth speaker. Soon enough a carefully curated playlist of all your favourite songs begins to play, making all of you start to sing along. Your voices remain relatively quiet though, not as loud as they would be if you were driving in your car; the last thing you need is a noise complaint from the building. Besides, it’s late and you’re sure most of your neighbours are asleep. All of you dance around and sing, feeling safer and more carefree doing so in your living room than at a dark night club where any pervert can ruin your night.

Your mind goes to Steve despite you trying to distance your thoughts from him, as you sing along to the music. If he was yours, your boyfriend, you could go out with him and experience a night club for the first time without any fear; knowing he’s there and that the only hands that’d be on your body would be his as the two of you danced. As if conjured by your thoughts the song that Robin played ends and a very familiar one starts.

“YOUR SONG!” Robin says loudly and your friends laugh while trying to shush her. “Come on you gotta sing it, the stage is yours.”

“Okay. Okay.” You laugh as she presents you with the TV remote as if it’s a microphone. You clear your through agreeing to sing the song to indulge her. It doesn’t hurt though, that it’s your favourite and the object of your affections immediately comes to mind.

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from holding back from all this.

You don’t sing too loudly and mostly stick to mouthing the lyrics as the melody picks up momentum. It is only when the chorus starts that you sing, emotion thick in your voice, and your friends join you.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off.

A carefree laugh escapes you as your friends cheer, knowing fully well who you’re thinking about. They’ve known about your feelings for Steve since the moment they started, always urging you to take a chance which you’re always against.

“Did you?” Nancy asks, raising an eyebrow at you. You know exactly what she’s asking.

You laugh and blush as you nod. The little black dress you wear was bought on a whim one day. You’d been trying on clothes for another work event but decided to buy a dress for a night out too. You’d felt good in it and honestly, you’d looked hot. Standing in front of the mirror tonight, the image of you and Steve hand in hand going to dinner together was also so clear in your mind. His jacket over your shoulders as you walk out of the restaurant, and his hands on your body the minute he closed the door to your apartment. You know it would never, happen but every time you wear it you can’t help but go back to the same daydream and wish it could be true. It’s not that you’re only thirsty for him. No, this thing you feel for Steve didn’t start as something physical. You’d fallen in love head over heels, with no way of ever falling back out of love, and then he’d begun to invade your dreams and your thoughts. The softest ones and the more sinful ones too.

“You look hot, that dingus would take it off if he had the guts to!” Robin tells you, unplugging her phone and holding it in front of you.

Mae the voice of reason speaks up. “Post it to close friends Robin. We don’t want anyone else to see this!”

“Yeah, Steve would kill you.” Nancy says to Robin, gesturing towards you. “This is too much.”

You laugh. As if Steve would care, you think. You’re pretty sure you’re friend zoned for life.

Indulging your friends you sing the chorus again, looking at Robin’s phone knowing her close friends are just the people in the room with you. Your hands go over the material of your dress and you smile while you sing, thinking about Steve. It makes your friends laugh and cheer for you.

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off.

“Tell him!!” Robin yells as your friends cheer you on, it makes you laugh again.

You entertain the idea, telling Steve and coming clean about your feelings. What would he do? What would he say? Would he feel the same way? No, there’s no way. He hasn’t shown romantic interest in you. He’s gentle and loving in a way a best friend is; considerate and mindful of your feelings. He supports your interests just as you support his, he’s affectionate and kind, but that’s where it ends. It’s friendship, that’s all. Besides you love Steve too much, there’s no way you’re risking it by telling him about your feelings.

The song ends shortly after that and new one starts immediately after. It’s enough to get all of you to dance and forget the previous song, and the feelings it brought back to the surface. With your friends all a little buzzed, it’s easy to sing and dance without a care; taking turns to hold the TV remote as a microphone while you do. That is, until Robin speaks up a few minutes later.

“Fuck.” She curses loudly, her phone clutched in her hands. All of you stop your singing to look at her.

“What happened?” You ask, dread settling on your stomach. The look on her face tells you is nothing good.

“Don’t kill me, but I posted it to my story by accident!” Robin grimaces, “Not to my close friends.”

“DELETE IT! DELETE IT!” Mae yells at Robin while you panic. It’s not been long, no one must have seen it, it’s late anyways.

“Delete it now, please.” You tell her, hovering over her shoulder to see her do it. But not before recognizing Steve’s icon at the bottom of the screen. Steve saw it.

“No way.” You whisper. Fuck, why did he have to see it?

There’s no way he’ll know it’s about him right? Right? But you mind still reels with what just happened. Did you just ruin everything, between both of you. Did a mistake like that just cost you your friendship with Steve? How are you going to face him now. He’s never ever seen you like that and for good reason, because it would always be about him.

Mae’s hands hold your shoulders, urging you to stop your pacing. “Calm down, breathe!”

“There, it’s gone. I just deleted it.” Robin says, throwing her phone to the other side of the couch for good measure.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“He won’t know it was about him.” Nancy reassures you with a smile. “Worst case scenario, he’ll just think you have a crush on someone.”

“Do you really think so?” You worry, worrying your lip with your teeth. “What if he never talks to me again because of this?”

“There’s no way,” Mae reassures you. “Your friendship is too important to both of you for him to throw it away, and if he does then screw him.”

“Oh she wants to,” Robin says from the couch and suddenly all tension leaves you as all of you laugh. “Come on, you guys have to help me with my drama.” She urges between laughs.

An hour later the girls all leave together and you’re alone in your apartment. You check their shared location and confirm they’re on their right way home before you begin to put the trash from the living room away. The apartment is quiet, only your footsteps and the sound of sealing snack bags back up can be heard. You’re actively trying to forget about the fact that Steve saw you singing Dress –your real favourite song not the one you’ve told him is your favourite– in such an uninhibited way. You can’t even be mad a Robin for what she did, she’s one of your best friends. Besides, it was only a mistake and you’re sure nothing will happen because of it. Everything will be okay. Right?

The doorbell ringing brings you out of your thoughts and you frown. It’s nearly 1am and you know it’s not your friends who’ve turned back around; they’re too far away to have returned so fast. After walking to the door, you look through the peephole and spot no one other than Steve standing outside.

“Stevie?” You open the door, confused beyond words, heart thrumming loudly on your chest.

“Hey babe. You look pretty.” His eyes are soft, like they always are when he looks at you. He’s like a dream in front of you in light washed jeans, a plain white t-shirt and nikes. His hair looks soft, forming perfect brown waves that shine in the dim light of your apartment. Your hands itch to touch it and see if it’s as soft as it looks.

“It’s 1am what are you doing here?” You step back and let him in, ignoring the compliment so you don’t blurt out something you shouldn’t. Like ‘you’re absolutely gorgeous’. “Is something wrong?”

“No not at all.” He shakes his head, “I just missed you.”

“You missed me?” You raise your eyebrows. “You saw me this morning.

“I know I just…” Steve begins but he stops talking. His eyes look away from yours and he walks towards the kitchen instead, hands going to his hair.

“What?” You prod, confused by his whole demeanour. He looks nervous and you can’t imagine why, you hope it’s nothing bad. “Stevie, can you tell me what’s going on?”

“I saw Robin’s story.” He says looking down at the ground.

Perfect. Now you need the ground to swallow you whole. What is he doing here? Telling you you can’t be friends anymore?

“Oh.” Is all you can manage to say, you lean back against the kitchen counter and will your hands to stop shaking with nerves.

Steve’s eyes leave the floor and move to yours, knocking the air from your lungs with their intensity. He nods and takes a step closer to you. “I saw you singing and dancing.”

You nod and look away. “Yeah, I love that song and Robin accidentally posted that to her story instead of close friends.”

Steve moves and stands in front of you; his eyes scan your face as emotion dances in them while he looks into your own. “Who was it about?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You tell him, trying your best to act clueless.

“Robin said ‘Tell him’ Who?” Steve asks.

“So you came to my apartment to make fun of me?” You ask, eyebrows meeting in the middle. “Do you want to know so you can make fun of me, Steve?”

“Babe, come on, you know I would never make fun of you.” He tells you seriously.

“Then why do you even want to know?” You huff.

Steve takes one of your hands, an electric shock hitting both of you at once when he does —they’re so much bigger than yours and warm, you wish he’d never let it go. “Because I wanted it to be me.” He whispers, his face shifting closer to yours so you can hear him. “You can tell me, if it’s me.”

You shake your head, heart beating out of your chest. Tears begin to sting your eyes but you will them to go away. You’re thrilled by his confession, wanting nothing more for it to be true, but is it right? Should you tell him? “What if I lose you?”

Steve’s hand lets go of your and goes to your cheek instead, then his forehead presses against yours when he speaks. “You won’t. I want it to be me because I don’t want you like a best friend either. I want everything with you.”

You sigh when he brushes his nose against yours; your heart leaves it’s place in the middle of your chest and joins your stomach for a second before returning to its place. “What’s everything?”

Steve smiles and places a kiss on your cheek. “Your best friend, your boyfriend; I want to hold your hand, but I also really want to touch you everywhere. I want to be yours.” His lips drag against your skin as he speaks, voice hushed like a confession. “I’ve been in love with you for years and you’ve never noticed.”

You lean back and look into his eyes, there’s longing and love and lust, all blending into a darker brown than his usual soft gaze. Could it be true that he’s felt the same way all this time? Were the things you accredited to friendship actually his feelings for you revealing themselves. “Tell me, now.” You whisper looking at him with all the longing you feel.

You see him swallow hard, the hand on your cheek rubbing softly at the skin. A single lock of hair falls on his forehead as he looks down at you. “I love you, and I can see now you’ve felt the same way too.”

You nod, feeling dizzy from his words. There’s a happiness coursing through you that brings a smile to your face so big it hurts your cheeks. “Yes, I love you. Yes, the song was about you.”

Your words are whispered between the two of you as the distance begins to close. The joy and the excitement of having the man of your dreams in front of you confessing his love for you makes your body thrum with energy. Energy that grows and grows into a tension between the two of you that makes Steve close his eyes for a moment.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, his hand moving up your thigh to feel the material of your dress; it lights your skin on fire.

Your breath catches on your throat and you swallow hard to get your voice back. “Yes.” You tell him as your hands go to his hair, it’s softer than you imagined. “You already know I want you to.”

Steve’s lips are on yours a second later and you can’t help the sigh that escapes you when he does. His lips caress yours softly but firmly enough for you to know this is really happening. Steve’s hand on your cheek angles your face just right as he kisses you, giving him the perfect angle to tease your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. He opens you up to him, intoxicating you with the taste of him, the heat radiating from his body, everything. His lips leave yours to kiss along your jaw. His breath causes shivers to go down your spine, and his lips leave open mouthed kisses along your skin.

“Did you really buy this dress for me?” He whispers by your ear, his hands going to your hips and helping you on the counter. “Hmm?”

You nod and give him a breathy Yes when the tip of his tongue teases your earlobe. “But I never thought you’d see it.” You confess.

“I’m glad I did.” He pulls back and looks into your eyes, they’re loving, sincere, and dark with want. He shakes his head, “You’re so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”

You pull him closer again, capturing his lips in a firmer kiss, a needier one. Years of pent-up frustration rising to the surface, your body wanting more, and more, and more. Your hands move under his tshirt and explore his back as Steve kisses you deeply, pulling back when you need to catch your breath; the tip of his nose moves up the side of yours before his lips are on yours again, teeth scraping at the soft skin. His hands move from your waist to the front of your dress, his thumbs go over your nipples which makes you arch into him.

“Come on,” Steve rasps when you try to pull yourself closer to him, "Bed.”

He guides your legs around his waist and proceeds to carry you to the bedroom, laughing with you when he trips by the doorway. He turns on your lamp on his way, bathing the room in warm light, then after checking that the blinds are closed, he lowers you gently on the bed. He soon follows, settling over you, one arm holding his weight away from you and his free hand skimming up your inner thigh.

“Stevie.” You whisper, melting at the sight of his adoring eyes; he looks at you like he’s in disbelief of having you underneath him, loving him like crazy. You smile, “Kiss me.”

Steve leans down again, pink lips capturing yours once more before his hand moves under the hem of your dress.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.” He whispers against your lips, kissing you again and grazing his teeth against the bottom one. He cups you over your underwear as he speaks. “How I’ve driven myself crazy thinking about the two of us together. Making you this wet.”

You drag your nails over his scalp and scratch lightly before you fist his hair in your hands. “That makes two of us.”

You barely get the words out, before his fingers find your underwear and push it to the side pulling a moan from your lips. His fingers work between your legs and Steve curses when he notices how aroused you are. He continues dragging out sighs and whimpers out of you as bliss washes over your body. You never thought being touched by him would feel so good, especially when his fingers slide inside and your hips rise to meet his strokes.

“That’s it, baby; you’re making the prettiest sounds.” His voice is gravely next to your ear. “Tell me how it feels, babygirl.”

You keen under his touch and praise, feeling hot all over as your body tingles with need. Your hands find Steve’s face, dragging him away from your neck to kiss his lips again. You moan his name and bite his bottom lip when he touches you just right. Throwing all sense out the window you whisper his name again, begging him to touch you.

He smiles, you can feel it against your lips. “I’m touching you, baby.”

You shake your head and urge him to look into your eyes again. “No, I need you to touch me everywhere. Please.”

You can’t even be embarrassed with how needy you’re for him. You’ve never felt embarrassed with Steve before, always free to be yourself, so you’re not starting now. He’s your best friend, he knows you and can read you like a book. He knows you so well that he nods, understanding what you mean, what you want, his body bare over yours.

“You don’t have to beg. Whatever you want from me is yours.”

Pulling away from you and taking his fingers away from underneath you dress, Steve leans back on his knees and takes his t-shirt off. Next are his jeans which leaves him only in a pair of grey boxer briefs that leave very little to the imagination. They sit low on his hips, and you can clearly see the outline of him underneath the cotton. The waistband rests just below his hipbones, revealing a patch of hair that trails down and hides underneath the waistband. You’ve seen him shirtless before; when he wears you favourite pair of swimming trunks to the beach you have to talk yourself out of staring at him for so long, staring there no less. But now you can look at him, all of him, with no shame and you have to bite your lip to control yourself in front of the man kneeling between your legs. His strong body is on display for you; strong and arms and his broad shoulders you want him to cover yours with. Dark chest hair and tummy covered in freckles, making your mouth water. You want all of him. You push up to your left hand and drag your right thumb over a particular freckle, you can’t wait for the moment you can taste it. Your lustful gaze makes Steve’s breath catch in his throat, even more so when you look up at him.

“More.” You say simply, pulling at the elastic of his briefs as a hint.

Steve smiles and shakes his head with a curse. “You’re the one wearing more clothes now, you know.”

“Take them off then.” You challenge with the raise of an eyebrow, trying to be demanding and in control of the situation but failing.

Steve doesn’t let you take control; it disappears when he begins to pull your dress upwards as carefully as opening a present. A sound escapes him when he notices you’re not wearing a bra, but you can’t see his face when he does because the dress goes over your head in that moment before it falls to the floor with the rest of his clothes.

“Fuck. Do you know how hot you are?” Steve curses. Your body burns again from his lustful gaze that roams it, and the sheer need to feel him close to you. He looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath through his nose, then shakes his head and looks at you again. “I knew I loved your body, but this? You’re beautiful beyond my dreams.”

You look away from his adoring gaze, trying to keep your face from burning at his words. Which is impossible, and pointless considering they way you’ve touched and kissed him just now. Your body moves as you switch your position on the bed, kneeling in front of him to mirror him. His bare chest almost touching yours; all of you and all of him naked safe for your underwear. You look into his eyes as your hands roam up his chest, right hand staying on his cheek as you lean closer to his lips.

“You’re a work of art, Steve.” You whisper and lean in to kiss him slowly as your other hand runs down his chest to touch him through the cotton of his briefs. You don’t have to say please, he’d said so you touch him instead to let him know what you want.

You swallow Steve’s groan with your lips when he kisses you again. He drags them along your jaw and nips at your skin as he lays you back on the bed, soothing each little bite with his tongue. He pushes your thighs apart and settles between your legs, grunting when he looks for friction between the two of you and you push upwards to meet him. He grinds his heavy cock against your aching cunt and both your mouths fall slack against each other as you moan —same breathe mingling until it’s one. He's right there where you want him, have wanted him, for so long. It takes a moment for you to recover enough from the sensation and focus back on Steve, but when you do your lips find each other again. Despite the clear need between the two of you though, the kiss remains slow; gentle but full of the fire growing within both of you. There’s no rush now, as love gains the upper hand on lust –each brush of lips conveys 3 words, and each grind of your hips makes you gasp. Steve’s hands are all over your body; your arms, the side of your waist, your legs, your stomach, your breasts, your face. There’s no place untouched, and it satisfies the burning sensation under your skin. Another moan escapes you and it’s swallowed up Steve’s hungry mouth, which now knows the way you like to be kissed and leaves you breathless. He whispers his praise against them, making you arch into him with every filthy word.

You pull away from his lips and grab his face to look at him in the eyes; brown turned black by his blown pupils. “I’m still struggling to believe this is real.”

Steve smiles at you, the adoring way he’s always done. “It is real; we have all night for you to believe it.” His hands move to pull down your underwear in juxtaposition to his sweetness. He tosses them aside before he moves away from you, crawling down your body and settling his face between your thighs

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 5/7/2024

i have Got to read a book i enjoy this week or my brain will turn into something the consistency of dried tomato paste on a kitchen counter

also i have lost track of the timing and rhythm of the seasons so for the first time in a very long time there is no may starred war tuesdaypost

listening

Chapstick by COIN off my weekly recommended spotify playlist. i don’t think this song is particularly interesting or well-executed as a whole, but the lyrics

She’s a friend of mine, and an alibi

And the getaway car in overdrive, like

Hey sharpshooter, I like the way you’re moving

i think the use case for this song is a telecom company trying to get you to switch by promising some portable Bluetooth speakers for your summer parties and this is playing diagetically as we slip in and out of various summer parties, following one TV-hot woman in a sundress

-

reading

i am once again not sleeping well and have shoved a lot of mediocre books into my gaping maw. i have read a good fuckin chuck of the jason todd outlaws runs. i like jason todd/the red hood bc i feel a certain kinship with someone trained for an incredibly specific thing who are then thrown away the second they stop conforming. darth maul also but that’s a different post.

i have several bones to pick with writer scott lobdell. i know this was the early teens but can we chill with the misogyny for a singular page. why themes of addiction only when it is needed to fill a narrative lull? and why are you continually going to put jason in interesting situations where he might confront his trauma or grow despite his trauma and then. not have him confront his trauma or grow at all because of it??? i like snatches of the early issues of the run, when the outlaws are figuring out how to be a polycule team on the most beautiful deserted island and crashed spaceship you’ve ever seen. i liked the art in most issues and these had just enough fun flashes of character (about every other issue) to keep me reading. but im annoyed by it.

i finally finished Wilkie Collins’ The Moonstone, the first physical paper book i have finished in a long time. the flaw of being the first in the english detective fiction genre is that everyone who comes after has a lot of time to perfect it. i felt the actual perpetrator was a little beyond belief and the ending was fumbled. however it was very good at sustaining my interest for like 400 pages. not my picture bc i cannot be bothered to find my copy and bother a cat, but this is the penguin edition i own. i don’t actually know if i will keep it on my shelves but maybe it’s more of a trophy of me getting back into reading physical books?

Alexis Hall’s Mortal Follies also annoyed me. i do not think this author’s strong suit is in longer books. i have read previous books in two hours and change and while i found the ending here satisfying from a fairytale perspective, i did not enjoy the path we took to get there. i thought we were ending and wrapping things up at least three times, and the number of Things that happen in order to carry us on to the next Thing does not feel gleefully madcap but sort of frantically shambling. a very classic three-days time limit is introduced in the middle, it is met, and then we continue on for several months. also the author introduces the concept of shipping your friends with an equally made-up word as shipping through one of the more tiresome characters in the novel and this…cracking? chip? in the fourth wall? fucking annoyed me. it felt very out of tone with the rest of the book. surely there was a better way for this character to express that she wanted the two leads to be together

-

watching

Hammerhead (1968, dir. Miller). this is leaving tubi soon and sometimes the heart needs a silly little James Bond ripoff. had high hopes for this one bc it was rated R and the baddie was obsessed with collecting vintage erotica. i don’t really know why this is rated R. the erotica we see is almost all prints of Fine Art Nudes. there’s a lot of cleavage and undergarments and bikinis but not like. full frontal at any point. no man has their chest out except for an enterprising motorcyclist near the end.

anyway this is a deeply unserious film, as you may surmise. it’s not much fun, especially when it’s not very good at getting everyone to the next scene. Vince Edwards is kind of a cold fish, i do not know why every woman is throwing herself at him. Judy Geeson makes every scene she’s in better (there’s a very funny scene in a post office where they play both keepaway and the thimble game with an important package) but she cannot hold the whole dragging movie up by herself. god they made leading ladies fucking tiny back then. very throwable

-

playing

not fallow but i don’t have anything interesting to say about genshin this week. a friend started playing fnv after several months of subtle hints, i was only able to join his streams after twenty hours in and promptly let him know the inventory is sortable if you click at the top. how had he been going through his whole fucking inventory for twenty hours like that. a man singularly obsessed with both inventory management and min-maxing caps. he had like 8k caps by the time he got to Novac, taking the normal route. people sure can play games in different ways huh

-

making

put some dijon mustard and some broccoli in some macaroni and cheese. that's about it

[sebsxphia]

Sebbie I'm so sorry for blowing up the inbox again, I was gonna wait to send this, I really was but I had it in my sleep last night and it just couldn't escape me (lol).

Rhett comes home one Sunday after a really, really long week. He's been giving sermons at the church every week and was in and out of the hospital with an elderly patient who had asked for counsel. He's also completely done dealing with the local church hag who won't stop picking on his youth group kids who are already going through enough shit as is. In short, he's had a week and he's exhausted.

He comes home and smells dinner in the crockpot, lifting the lid off to inhale the smell of the chicken legs and thighs that have been cooking away all day. He laughs the minute he feels your arms around his waist, turning around to kiss you and nuzzle into the curve of your neck. You ask him if he wants dinner first but Rhett tells you that all he wants is his sweet, precious little lamb.

He goes into the living room and turns on the little bluetooth speaker, hitting the play button on his Spotify. You can't control the smile when you hear "Into The Mystic" by Van Morrison, the same song that was the first dance at your wedding. Rhett holds out his hand and gently pulls you in for a dance, the two of you laughing as you remember how happy you both were that night and the hilarity of the shenanigans that ensued, especially on behalf of his high school youth group kids who were all in attendance.

Some time later, you two welcome a little girl after Amy comes to the ranch to live. She's a little fussy her first night in the world and can't sleep so Rhett picks her up from her crib and walks her up and down the halls in his arms, that same song playing as she rests against his shoulder, rocked safely in her daddy's arms. Years later when all your kiddos are grown up, it becomes a family tradition to play that as a first dance song at their weddings. Rhett cries when your oldest daughter gets married to a police officer fresh out of the academy, more so now that he's marrying his daughter and son-in-law. Your sons play it at theirs too, all of them having gone on through the police and fire academies. You and Rhett never forget what it means to you.

Sebbie, I friggin cried writing this. I grew up listening to stuff like this so it hits even harder. The Van Morrison one is amazing, but you've gotta give a listen to the cover that The Wallflowers did for American Wedding, it's so perfect 😭😭😭😭

ohhhh, my love! please don’t apologise at all! this is the sweetest thought and i love it so much 🥺 rhett can be so sentimental and you know that when he’s exhausted, both mentally and physically, all he needs is you and the family you’ve both created. that’s his medicine. thank you so much for this incredibly touching thought, my love! 🥹💌

[softersinned]

i'm not really here, but if i were here i would talk about astoria's house—

i imagine that the house is three floors and looks a bit like this incredible artwork by mary syring. it's a beautiful victorian with a lot of the original bones; the outside is a bit dilapidated, but she's working on upkeep. she has a small porch where she sometimes sits with her tea and her cats. her front door has the moon phases carved into it, eight phases in a circle. through the front door you'll come up on a spiral staircase that leads to the library and the second floor; there's a second staircase in the back of the house that goes straight up without the spiral, for anyone who'd get vertigo. through the front door and facing the spiral staircase, there's a sitting room to the left (she does not call it a living room—"a living room? in my house?") where she entertains guests, with a fireplace, an overstuffed sofa, an overstuffed chair. both are sinfully soft. her coffee and end tables have plenty of candles and books on them, and she has an antique gramophone that came with the house and the furnishings, which she's had adapted to play modern records. she also has a bluetooth speaker setup linked to her phone so she can blast spotify when she wants to dance around the house. to the right of the front door is what was once a dining room and is now mostly controlled by the cats. she has books stacked in a couple of chairs, she has a few of her family heirlooms on display here (the less disturbing ones, like her grandparents' wedding portrait), and she has plenty of photographs here (her family, though her mother is absent from all photographs except for one). she also has some of her mother's work on display here, though she has it behind where she usually sits, so she doesn't have to look at it often.

behind the dining room is the kitchen, which is huge, and largely overrun by plants. she keeps the plants that she can't let the cats near through a door to a small, covered porch that acts as something of a greenhouse; that's where she grows anything toxic to the cats, from fresh lavender to belladonna. inside, though, her windowsill is overflowing with rosemary, basil, parsley, thyme, chamomile, sage; she has mint hanging at the windows and spilling out of the pots. she has plenty of counter space, though she doesn't often cook, and she has a fantastic collection of coffee and tea that takes up more cabinet space than her dishes do. the kitchen is full of bottles and jars, all of which are filled and meticulously labeled. there was initially another room but the wall has long since been torn down, so the kitchen and sitting room are just very big. there's a wall in the kitchen with a door, through which one can access the back stairs. the only other room on the first floor is a bathroom, well-sized but not particularly impressive.

the big beautiful window right above the front door has a window seat; this is her library, with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled to the brim. there are two bedrooms on this floor, the largest of which astoria uses as her own bedroom. the ensuite bathroom is stunning, and spacious, and the only place in the main house that the cats don't go. the other bedroom is her office. the third floor has two more bedrooms, each with an ensuite bathroom, though neither are as big as hers. those are her guest rooms, and she's more than happy to have them available to anyone who wants to use them.

at the back of the house, through the door to her little greenhouse back porch, there is a third set of stairs. these (spiral stairs) go up two stories, to a workshop that only astoria can open, both with a key and with magic. this is where her witchery happens; it's her lab and her study, filled with increasingly weird shit from her great-grandmother's bones preserved in a reliquary to jars filled with curses. there are bloodstains and scorch marks in the floor that she couldn't get out, though she hardly minds. every inch of the walls is covered either by shelves or by notes she's tacked up so she can access them quickly, and the workshop is typically in a state of some disarray. to be invited into her workshop is the highest compliment she can give to someone; it means she trusts them not to take anything, or judge what they see. she has a table where she does alchemical experiments, another where she does more general spellwork, another where she deals with unraveling curses. she has multiple complete skeletons, some preserved organs, and three skulls, each of which is missing at least one thing. the cats don't come up here, either. one corner of the workshop is kept carefully tidied and otherwise untouched, with a small table and a comfortable chair that no one ever sits in; this is for the banshee (who also likes to hang out on the roof).

beside the house is a two-car garage where astoria keeps her sports car and her more practical car. it's one of the few modern additions. across from the house is a creek that flows into a larger river about a mile down; astoria owns a total of nine acres of land, most of which is given over to nature.

[edmturnmeon]

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[oldguardians]

for context:

my headphones can work either through bluetooth or a detachable aux cord. my piano is a digital keyboard with built-in speakers, but can also play the piano audio through my headphones if I attach the aux cord.

my phone also connects to my piano via bluetooth, so I can play audio from my phone through the piano speakers if I want (but the audio only works one way, I can't play something from the piano through my phone speakers)

so.

I was listening to music via bluetooth on my headphones when I sat down at the piano. I plugged the aux cord into the piano, then turned the piano on. the music on my wireless headphones stops playing.

weird. but whatever.

then I plug the other end of the aux cord attached to the piano into my headphones. glass animals' the other side of paradise starts playing through my headphones, which are currently connected via aux cord to my piano. my piano which I am not playing, and even if I was playing, I could not possibly be producing the sound I was hearing, since it would be moderately difficult for me to perfectly reproduce a full song with vocals and guitars.

what the fuck?

then I realize: the bluetooth on my phone connected to the piano, but because my headphones were plugged into the piano, the audio routed through my headphones.

which meant I had gone from listening to a song on my wireless headphones, to listening to the exact same song on the same headphones but needlessly routed through my piano. I was using bluetooth to listen to spotify. but also an aux cord. I had created Schrödinger's wireless headphones through the magic of bluetooth piano

the keyboard is technically portable, but only works if it remains plugged in to the wall. so I had turned my wireless headphones into a device that could play audio from afar, but only if I remained seated at the piano. which is the opposite of how that is supposed to work

just accidentally discovered how to turn my wireless headphones into the world's heaviest and least practical bluetooth listening device by routing the audio through my piano keyboard

[oreoambitions]

46 for agentreign please

Anon I'm sorry this took me a thousand years, but here you go. This gets wildly NSFW after the cut. Enjoy!

/// The first time it happens, Alex figures it's a fluke.

There are, after all, extenuating circumstances. She's not sure how many glasses of wine she's had because every time she turns around Sam has topped her off again, and maybe she should stop indulging but the wine is good and the company is better and this is the first day off off she's had for so long that it's hard not to let go a little. Kara's been keeping the showtunes coming all afternoon, a little louder than her old bluetooth speaker can really handle but it doesn't matter because Spotify is really just an excuse for Kara and Sam to sing at the top of their lungs. Alex is not participating, but she is appreciating. Appreciating because it's nice to see her sister laugh and smile like maybe things are getting better and maybe things are going to be okay. And also appreciating because, well, Sam. It's hard not to appreciate anything and everything Sam.

The activity of the afternoon is ostensibly the production of baked goods for a fundraiser related to Ruby's soccer team. Alex says 'ostensibly' because the reality is that it's been more than three hours and they haven't gotten the first batch of cookies into the oven yet. There's flour all over the floor, and she's pretty sure Kara got butter stuck to ceiling before Sam took the mixer away, but sometimes that's just the cost of a slightly raucous afternoon well spent, isn't it? And they'll have it all done in time anyway. In fact, Sam is just now finishing up the first batch of cookie dough in the confiscated kitchen aid when Alex, perhaps inebriated or perhaps just feeling emboldened by the domestic comfort of the whole affair, lunges for the beater.

This, it turns out, is either a mistake or the best decision she's ever made in her life. Her hand does contact the beater. She does come within a few seconds of pure raw cookie dough bliss. But Sam is faster, and in a flash Alex finds herself pinned between the counter and Sam's hips, one wrist wrapped up in Sam's fingers, the beater now soundly out of reach in Sam's other hand.

"Mine," Sam growls, but her eyes have dropped to Alex's mouth and for one disorienting moment Alex thinks she might be about to kiss her, thinks maybe the word 'mine' has nothing to do with the beater at all, that maybe they've crossed into some alternate dimension where there's a future for her and Sam that doesn't involve a lot of politely smiling and politely never mentioning one another's romantic entanglements or the absence thereof.

And the thing is, Alex thinks to herself, contemplating the heat of Sam's gaze and the fact that she literally cannot move beneath Sam's hips, this is... attractive. This is very attractive, in an immediate and throbbing sort of way that would be frankly embarrassing approximately half a glass of wine earlier in the afternoon. But that can't be right, because Alex doesn't like to be pushed around. Alex is the one who does the pushing. Isn't she? Sam's grip tightens around her wrist and Alex's lips part of their own accord and-

"Oh for heaven's sake," Kara says, snatching the beater out of Sam's hand. "It's mine, because you two are both being ridiculous." She rolls her eyes. "I hate being the only adult in the room."

It was a fluke. That's what Alex thinks to herself later that night when she wakes with a start from a just-dozing-off dream featuring the immovable nature of Sam's hips. They were drinking and it was a long afternoon and everyone was a little wound up and a little giddy and Alex has been single for a long time. That's it. That's all it was. That's all it has to be.

///

It's harder to write it off as a fluke the second time, but she manages.

James is in town and so it's game night. Not their monthly game night as scheduled, but an extra at-the-last-second game night, and Alex is on call. Which is fine. She can count on her fingers the number of times she's had to handle something in the middle of the night while on call for the DEO, and she's not particularly worried. But it's a problem because she can't be drinking, which means she's sober when Sam corners her in the kitchen.

It's been a long night. Not in a bad way. Just in the sense that things have been a little more risque than usual, what with Nia falling over herself trying to make it clear to Brainy that she'd like to sleep with him without actually making it clear, and Lena shooting those long smoldering looks at a characteristically oblivious Kara, and then there's Sam. Alex can't stop looking at Sam in that shirt where it sits a little too tight across the shoulders, can't stop tracing the line of that necklace to the place where it disappears just below her collar, can't stop following the meaningless movement of her fingers as she absently fiddles with a beer that wouldn't have an effect on her even if she drank the whole case. She wonders idly if it's for the aesthetic or if Sam just likes the taste of a craft IPA.

The trouble is that every time Alex catches herself looking at Sam, she also catches Sam looking at her. And so, upon dragging her eyes up once more from Sam's fingers to find Sam staring back at her, eyes dark and expression unreadable, Alex decides it's time for a drink after all. One beer won't hurt, even if the world decides to consider coming to an abrupt conclusion in the next hour or so and it turns out to be her responsibility. It's just that her mouth is suddenly dry, and the room is suddenly too loud, and she needs something to roll between her fingers the way Sam is rolling that IPA back and forth and back and forth and- Yeah. Just one beer will be fine.

She slips into the kitchen while Nia is yelling about how they should all do a TikTok together. It's quieter here, and a cool breeze through the window over the sink raises goosebumps across her arms. She pops the fridge open, pulls a beer at random, leans up against the counter. Maybe she doesn't want a drink after all. Maybe she just needs a minute.

"Aren't you on call, Ms. Danvers?"

Sam. Alex pouts. "What are you, the party police?"

Sam steps up close, takes the beer from Alex without so much as looking at it. "Aren't you the alien invader police?"

That's a dumb line and it doesn't remotely reflect Alex's actual job description, but she laughs anyway. "It's just one beer. Like 4%. I can handle it."

"I know," Sam murmurs.

Alex thinks she's forgotten how to breathe. Sam's eyes are on her mouth and those hips are pressing into her again and when Sam slips one arm around her waist and one hand into her hair a sound comes out of her that might have been a whimper. There's an inevitability to the way Sam leans in, to the way Alex's lips part as Sam tilts her head back with a firm tug. There's a moment of hesitation, a lingering, an opportunity to say no. Instead, Alex whispers, "Please."

Sam obliges. She kisses her slow, languid almost, holds her firm against the counter as she licks into her mouth and Alex is thinking that maybe she's going to come right here just letting Sam kiss her like this when Sam presses a thigh between her legs and she gasps, grinds down hard without meaning to.

Sam chuckles into her mouth, drags one hand around to her throat, traces feather light kisses along her jaw, tugs on her earlobe with her teeth. "Good girl," she whispers.

Alex isn't sure if it's the heat of Sam's breath, or the praise, or the way she's been casually immobilized, but she shudders, and Sam chuckles again, lips against her ear, and that only makes it worse.

"Fuck," Sam says. "If I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here."

Alex is pretty sure that would kill her. She's pretty sure just the thought of it is going to kill her. Just the pad of Sam's thumb dragging across her throat as she kisses her again, just the roll of those hips, that thigh pressing hard into her, that deep ache coiling tighter as Sam pulls back just far enough to meet her eyes and-

"Hey, Nia wants- Oh!" Lena stops short just inside the kitchen door. "I'll just." She plucks a bottle of wine from the counter. "Take this and tell her that you've uhm. That you're busy."

"We'll be right there," Sam says. She straightens Alex's shirt with a tug and a smirk. "Wouldn't want to miss the TikTok dance."

"Nope," Alex chokes out. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

It's a fluke. Alex takes a long shower when she gets home, and she takes care of the lingering ache that's now outlived not one but two TikTok dances, and she thinks about texting Sam. She falls asleep with her phone in her hand and if she has dreams about a tall, handsome, strong woman railing her against a kitchen counter, well. That happens sometimes. Could happen to anyone. Doesn't mean anything except that Alex has been single for probably too long . She downloads Hinge in the morning and considers explicitly mentioning in her bio that she's the one who wears the strap.

///

The Hinge profile lasts about three days. Alex scrolls through a ridiculous number of women, all of whom are... fine, before she comes to the conclusion that the problem is that none of them are Sam. She's sitting on this stupid app pedaling her stupid profile and all she wants is the woman whose attention prompted her to download a dating app in the first place. And she can't want Sam because it would never work. They're fundamentally incompatible. This bedroom ain't big enough for two tops. It's not going to happen.

But the words if I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here are as stuck in Alex's head as that Lady Gaga song Brainy won't stop playing over the speakers at the DEO. She can't stop thinking about it. Picturing it, even. Dreaming about it when her mind should be anywhere else, on anything else. And she'd just avoid Sam, just look the other way until her hormones sort themselves out, except that Sam is virtually impossible to avoid.

Kara doesn't make it any easier when she calls on Friday night to ask her about a movie night at Sam's apartment.

"Ruby's on a school trip, so it'll be just the four of us," Kara says over the phone. "I'll bring snacks, and we can order whatever you want for dinner. Please? Lena's never seen Star Wars; we have to do something."

Alex doesn't know how to say no. No, I won't come to what feels suspiciously like a double date movie night at Sam's apartment, because Sam's strap is at Sam's apartment, and I'm not sure that she isn't going to try to fuck me on the bathroom floor, and furthermore, I'm not sure that I don't want her to. Instead she says, "Any Star Wars? That's a crime. Which movie are we starting with?"

It's probably a safe bet anyway. Kara and Lena will be there the whole time; Alex and Sam will never be alone. All Alex has to do is make sure that she leaves when everyone else does and they can avoid the awkwardness altogether, and no that is definitely not anticipation she's feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she certainly does not spend an extra half an hour in bed on Saturday morning keeping herself busy with the thought of offering to stay and help clean up, of finding herself pinned against the refrigerator door while Sam takes her from behind. That absolutely does not happen because that would be ridiculous, undignified, untoplike behavior.

Alex is certainly feeling ridiculous, undignified, and untoplike standing outside Sam's door that evening, anxiously smoothing out her shirt with one hand, a case of that IPA from game night in the other. She's arrived a carefully calculated fifteen minutes late just to be absolutely sure Kara and Lena will get here first, but she didn't spot Kara's car outside, and so she isn't particularly surprised when Sam opens the door with a warm smile and welcomes her into an empty apartment.

"Kara and Lena?" she asks as Sam takes the proffered beer.

"Lena got held up at the office," Sam replies, already disappearing into the kitchen. "They're running late. An hour or so. Told them we'd wait. Do you prefer an IPA or a lager? I don't have any stouts in the fridge right now. Might be a decent sour in here somewhere."

Alex lingers in the entryway, that not-anticipation feeling thrumming through her veins. She could follow Sam to the kitchen. Kitchens do seem to be their Thing. But Sam returns with two lagers, her question unanswered, and nods her head towards the living room.

Well, now they're alone together after all and Alex is feeling awkward. She settles onto one end of the couch and tries not to read into it when Sam deposits the lagers on the coffee table and settles in next to her, legs folded under her, almost too close, instead of occupying the perfectly good cushion on the other end.

"Sam," Alex tries. They should talk about this. "We should talk about this."

"Hmm." A hint of a smirk flickers across soft lips before Sam schools her expression. "Talk about what, exactly?"

If Alex had bothered to rehearse this conversation in her mind, she still wouldn't have imagined it going this way. Her eyes drop to Sam's mouth and then she struggles to look elsewhere. The records on the shelf under the window. The blank television screen.

"I-" she starts, but the words don't want to come out. The lager on the coffee table. She doesn't reach for it. "I can't stop thinking about game night," she forces out, and then she looks back up at Sam to gauge her reaction.

Sam is smirking openly now, a hint of laughter in her eyes. She reaches out to tangle long fingers in the hair at Alex's nape, the same grip she used to pull her into a kiss just last week, and Alex's arousal is embarrassingly immediate. "Really?" Sam asks. "Game night, huh? You want to know what I can't stop thinking about?"

It's Alex's gaze that drops first, to Sam's mouth again, and this time she can't look away. "What?"

"Tonight," Sam replies, close enough that Alex's eyes flutter closed, close enough that she can almost feel Sam's answer on her lips. There's probably a coy response for this somewhere in the lesbian handbook but Alex is reaching and coming up empty. She presses a soft kiss to Sam's mouth instead and feels that anticipation - there's no denying now that it's anticipation - thrum again when Sam's tongue immediately presses into her, hot and demanding.

"What's so special about tonight," Alex mumbles as Sam kisses along her jaw to her neck.

"Mmm." Sam nips hard against Alex's pulse point, smiles into her skin when she gasps. "Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"Take your shirt off."

Alex hesitates. That isn't remotely the answer to her question, but now Sam is sucking on her neck and her capacity for rational thought is rapidly diminishing. She fumbles with the first shirt button, fingers trembling, and then the second. Three undone is enough for Sam to pull the offending garment over her head. The sports bra follows, and then Sam is tugging on Alex's hips to reposition her so that she's lying back on the couch, and Alex suddenly understands what everyone finds so attractive about kryptonians, because it's effortless the way Sam moves her. She has about a half second to be transfixed by the abs peeking out from under Sam's own blouse before Sam is kissing down her collarbone and over her breast, chuckling when Alex's hips jerk underneath her.

"You know," Sam says, "I was expecting more of a fight out of Alex But-I'm-A-Top Danvers."

Alex opens her mouth to let out a retort but Sam's tongue is working a circle around her nipple and rational thought is once again threatening to fail. "Is that what you want?" She manages, struggling to sit up. "You want a fight?"

"No." Sam pushes her back again, pins her arms over her head with one hand, brushes the fingers of the other across her ribs, frowns. "No, I like you better like this."

Alex flushes and has to remind herself not to squirm, not to look away as Sam studies her in silence, drops kisses across her shoulders, traces the lines of her hip and the inside of her thigh. And then Sam reaches under the couch for a box, the implications of which are momentarily as immobilizing as the hand still holding Alex's wrists down, because Sam planned for this, planned far enough in advance to stash supplies where they might be convenient.

Alex swallows hard when Sam's pants exit the scenario, and Sam's eyes flicker over her face as she opens the box.

"How do you feel about being strapped on the couch?" she asks.

It's such a blunt question that Alex flushes again. "Uhm. Okay?"

Sam stops with her harness halfway out. "Just okay? I'm gonna need a clear yes or-"

"Yes. God. Yes please," Alex says, flushing an even darker shade. She's going to let... this... happen, but she's not going to beg. Christ. Consent granted; please let's move on before things get awkward. Sam chuckles a little at her discomfort and presses a kiss to her brow.

"Okay. But if you want me to stop you just say the word."

Alex nods, not trusting herself to speak, eyeing Sam's fingers where they're tightening the harness. And then all at once she blurts out, "Kara and Lena could be here at any moment," which she hadn't realized might be a concern until it came out of her mouth but now she can't stop thinking about it, and how embarrassing that would be, and Kara can see through walls for heaven's sake, and-

Sam chuckles. "Baby," she says, sliding herself between Alex's legs, "You're not going to last long enough to be worried about that."

Sam is embarrassingly, excruciatingly not wrong. By the time the strap is working into her Alex is pretty sure she's wound tighter than she's ever been, and she'd crack some kind of joke about how it's clearly been too long since she's had anyone inside of her but this is really not the time. Sam is pressing inexorably deeper and it's all she can do to hold her breath because otherwise she's going to come altogether undone before they've even gotten started.

Sam gives her a moment when she's all inside, waits for Alex to exhale, waits for her nod before she starts to rock her hips, and the drag of the strap is so intense that Alex loses her breath and her self control in the same instant with a groan that only deepens Sam's smirk. Alex is kind of wishing Sam would give her back the use of her hands, but that's not in the cards. She squirms instead, hips bucking of their own accord, head thrown back hard against the cushion of the couch.

"Thought about this every night," Sam murmurs, and Alex thinks she'll say since game night but she says, "Since the day I met you," which is almost as mindblowing as the pleasure somehow, incredibly, continuing to build between Alex's hips. "Thought about how good you'd be under me."

Alex shivers at that and then comes, bucking hard into Sam to take as much of the strap as she can, half aware of Sam whispering something in her ear that might have been what a good girl you are if Alex had been cognizant enough to comprehend it. She comes back down to soft kisses across her face, and when Sam lets go of her wrists she wraps her arms around her and tries to remember how to breathe, how to pull all the pieces of herself back together, how to be a competent and capable, dignified and toplike partner.

Alex runs a hand absently through Sam's hair and hums. "Do you want me to return the favor?" she asks. She doesn't have a strap with her but, well, it's not like that was ever the best trick up her sleeve anyway. She opens her mouth to make a quip about how a good top is always prepared but Sam reaches out and casually tips an untouched lager onto her discarded shirt.

Alex splutters.

"Too late," Sam says brightly. "You'll have to ask me after dinner. Lena and Kara are here."

"Lena and Kara are what-"

And there's the knock at the door. The door not ten paces from where Alex is lying in a state of naked disarray on the couch where they are supposed to be watching Star Wars. There is a moment of absolute stillness before Alex begins to scramble for her clothes.

"Bedroom is the second door on the left," Sam says, sneaking in a last kiss while Alex reaches for the underpants peeking out from under the coffee table. "Clean shirts in closet. Do pick something nice; I've been dying to see you in my clothes."

Alex scurries down the hall in her socks quietly cursing and thanking every star in the sky. It's going to be a long night. If she's lucky.

[nickgerlich]

Tuning In, Tuning Out

I remember my first car. It was a 1979 Toyota Corolla, a very basic four-on-the-floor two-door model that had a heater, rear defroster, and AM/FM radio. It cost a paltry $4000, and it was hard to say which of those three amenities was the most important when it came to creature comfort and driveability.

I wound up rigging a cassette player under the dash, and external speakers on the rear windscreen deck. This allowed me to curate my own tunes, each cassette tape a Stone Age version of what we would today call a playlist. I had painstakingly filled dozens of blank tapes with music I had “ripped” (now there’s a term that did not come into play until 20 years later) from vinyl, conveniently done so with an impressive array of stereo components.

Skip forward to the present (and note I did not say “fast forward,” since that is sooo last century), and I am still curating tunes and playing them on my van’s audio system. It’s just that today I am pulling them from my Spotify, and thanks to the marvels of Bluetooth, beaming it directly from my phone to the stereo.

So when I recently read that Bluetooth is the most important feature for new car buyers, I chuckled. I get it. Just like when I was a young man, we want to bring our music (and podcasts) with us when we go on road trips.

That doesn’t mean that all other sources are dead. I get a lot of use from my SiriusXM service (which, for premium subscribers, has many additional channels you can also beam by Bluetooth). And apparently, AM and FM are still a thing, although I must say I cannot remember the last time I listened to either.

It’s a lot like the battle between streaming video and the old-school alternatives. The major networks are not yet at any risk of being pushed out, but the trend is pretty clear. In the long run, we may very well wind up with little or no over-the-air content, instead getting everything from the internet and then pushing it to the player (TV, audio, whatever) of our choice.

Essentially, our screen life continues to increase, as we are seldom ever far from one. Or three. We are either scrolling, tapping, or clicking something, channeling the content of our choosing through the medium most convenient at the moment. While we still allow ourselves to be entertained (or is it victimized?) by the choices of others, we increasingly want to be in control of the what, when, and where of the media we consume.

I wonder whatever happened to that old car. Last I heard, the person I had sold it to had hit 275,000 miles on it, but I suspect it met its demise long ago in the crusher. It was a very humble daily driver, but as in some things, you never forget your first time. It was a lucky day for me when, just like in the famous Steely Dan song FM, I was able to tune in with no static at all.

And those clunky cassettes were always coming unspooled and making a mess. I had to keep a pencil handy to fix that problem. Who would have thought then that a couple of generations later that instead of our car audio system being in control of us, that we would be in control of it?

Dr “Turn It Up“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[y0itsbri]

it's pizza night at the gallagher-milkovich household!

word count: 2k

usually they order a couple pizzas from some local joint: thin crust chicago supreme for ian and deep dish meat lovers for mickey, though they steal pieces of each others' all the time (even if mickey has to pick off all the onions from ian's chicago supreme.)

but tonight ian wanted to do something different. the tomatoes and bell peppers from the garden were finally looking ripe. ian, with his green thumb, had spent most of spring and summer nurturing a row of plants in the community garden of their apartment complex. mickey had thought it was boring as fuck at first when nothing seemed to be changing, but eventually seeing the plants shoot up and seeing ian excited about all the new growth gave him a paternal kick somewhere from deep inside him. he even found himself wondering how the plants were holding up after a particularly bad thunderstorm one night. for fuck's sake -- was he a plant dad now? when the fuck did this happen?

and if they were going to make their own pizzas with ian's fresh vegetables, they sure as hell weren't going to cut any corners with the store-bought dough. though mickey would never admit it, he was getting pretty good at baking, which was something ian was both a little jealous and very proud of. at this point, mickey was basically a pro specifically at making orange cranberry bread (which ian had become immediately hooked on for a few weeks after jill brought over a loaf as a 'sorry-my-boyfriend-pissed-off-mickey' gift) and also at his favorite peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (mickey has such a sweet tooth, and ian has no idea how he hasn't had more cavities.) surely pizza dough couldn't be too much different than the rest of mickey's pretty impressive baking skills.

after work wednesday evening, mickey emerged from the shower with just a towel wrapped around his waist. he peeked out into the living room expecting to see ian zombified on the couch with the usual two boxes of pizza balanced across his legs. however, mickey was thrown off a bit as he spotted ian behind the kitchen counter rummaging through cabinets, occasionally opening the fridge, and proudly wearing his "i like to get high (quality ingredients)" apron, which had been a very appropriate birthday gift from lip.

"what's with all the ruckus in here, big bang," mickey teased. ian's wild eyes calmed a beat after they had finally noticed mickey standing in the doorframe. he checked out his husband up and down once over as a mischievous smile blossomed on his face.

"it's a surprise, but i'm gonna need you to put some clothes on," ian announced, even though his darkening eyes were saying quite the opposite.

mickey was rather hungry and curious about the shitstorm of a mess in the kitchen, so he decided not to push his luck with ian's lustful gaze and instead obediently turned around to pull on some sweatpants while mumbling something about "can't be too good of a surprise if i have to put on clothes." ian smirked from behind him.

mickey swaggered back to the kitchen wearing one of ian's old rotc t-shirts, hoping it would get enough of a rise out of ian for him to enthusiastically take it off late in the night. as if ian needed a reason.

"alright, alright, tough guy. what's the big surprise?"

ian slid his arm around mickey's waist and pulled them flush together as they stared at the array of ingredients sprawled out.

"Pizza," he stated as if it were a simple fact.

mickey's brow furrowed. there clearly wasn't any pizza on the counter. "where's the fuckin' pizza? or did you get too high," he teased, poking at ian's apron.

"ha. ha. very funny, babe. just high quality ingredients, remember?" ian winked and mickey smirked, musing at his dork. when mickey didn't counter him again ian cleared his throat and continued, "no, but for real. ya know how i've been growing vegetables in the garden here?"

mickey nodded. as if he could forget.

"well, for pizza night i was thinking that we could make our own with some of the vegetables and i was hoping," he dragged out the word and squeezed mickey's waist, "that you would make the dough, seeing that you're the star baker of the house."

mickey rolled his eyes. he didn't know where ian got the impression that he was the next best thing to a professional baker when he would usually just take the easy way out. especially when he was hungry and it came to pizza night. but he was secretly very excited to try the food that ian had spent so much time cultivating.

"yeah, man, let's get it." mickey leaned over the counter to turn the bluetooth speaker on and connect his phone, 'wait by the river' by lord huron playing. he grinned as he allowed ian to slide his hand down his arm and lace their fingers as they swayed together for a moment before pulling away and promptly getting to work on food prep.

ian hummed while he washed and chopped the vegetables, occasionally making comments about how he can't believe how colorful they are or how they had grown from nothing. mickey entertained his comments while he made the dough, "well not quite nothing. there was the seed and the sunlight and the shitty ass soil and you watered it a bunch and stuff. all that love ain't nothing." ian warmly smiled at how casually his husband talked about all forms of love now.

once everything was cleaned and diced and the dough was divided into two equal slabs, they got to shaping their crusts. mickey, being the little shit that he is, had extra flour on his hands and wiped some across ian's cheek. he took off behind the counter and into the living room before ian was able to even get out an agitated "what the fuck, mick!" ian was soon on his heels though and tackled him into the couch, wrestling and straddling him and pinning mickey's arms above his head with one hand and smearing flour from his own hand across mickey's cheek as he struggled.

"payback's a bitch," ian teased through his fits of laughter as mickey's face was twisted up in utter disgust, "oh c'mon, mick, can't take it?"

"you know exactly what i can take, asshole," mickey wiggled his eyebrow as he grumbled lowly. ian's face dropped in complete shock as he was taken off guard, and his grip loosened. mickey used that moment of weakness to flip ian off of him and straighten up his shirt as he stood, no mind to the floured handprints placed haphazardly all over himself, and definitely not entirely from his own hands.

"great, so pizza, then?" he smiled over his shoulder at a disheveled ian as he went to go shape the dough, innovatively using a can of beans as a rolling pin.

ian joined him behind the counter and smacked his ball of dough. "hmm"ed and paused. mickey turned to investigate the curious glint in ian's eye when he heard and felt a similar smack on his own ass.

"oh my fucking god, ian. we're never going to get anything done. i'm fucking starving," he groaned.

"as if you didn't start it!"

mickey paused for a moment. sure, fine, yeah. ian had a point with this one, "whatever." he poked ian in the side and then turned back to his pizza. after they were rolled out enough, ian picked up the spoon to put sauce on.

"nah, man! what the fuck are you doing?" mickey snapped, more with urgency than actual agitation, "we gotta cook them for a little bit first before putting all the shit on there, ya know?"

ian put his hands up in innocence and slowly backed away from both the pizzas and the oven, "my bad, chef, carry on."

mickey flipped him off before slipping the two crusts into the oven for a couple minutes. while they waited, ian picked up mickey's phone and pulled up a youtube compilation video of gordon ramsay 'critiquing' his chefs.

"hey mick, this is you in the kitchen."

they watched for a couple minutes as ian laughed his ass off.

"oh fuck off, you'd burn the place down without me," mickey retorted, carefully pulling the crusts out of the oven. ian just rolled his eyes and resumed playing the music from a spotify playlist that mickey totally did not have named 'date night🥀.'

they took turns spooning sauce with chunks of fresh tomato onto their half baked crusts and then sprinkled on some grated cheese and pepperoni, which they had picked up at the farmer's market on their last trip with a couple of the women in their complex they had accidentally befriended.

as much as mickey ate like a broke college kid when he was left to fend for himself most days, he really didn't mind vegetables (except for fucking onions -- those could rot in hell.) despite this, ian still looked on astonished as mickey piled on the veggies just as much as his pepperoni. that was really saying something.

mickey glanced up, "what, popeye? like you're the only one that gets to enjoy the shit from the garden? i gotta taste for myself all the hype that went into this!"

a look of pure adoration flashed across ian's face as he laid a smooch on mickey's forehead. mickey's felt fucking butterflies in his stomach. he thought that being married to the guy would make those feelings simmer down, but as if it was even possible, the flames burned even stronger.

as they waited for their pizzas to cook in the oven for the final time, they giggled like lovestruck teenagers as they wiped the flour off of each others' faces, making an even bigger mess than they started with, as mickey's hair was now dripping wet. they then cleaned off the countertops and packed the extra ingredients in some blue-lidded tupperware set that debbie had recommended.

ian got two beers out of the fridge, "special occasion," he reasoned. mickey scoffed. as if they needed a reason to get fucking smashed.

soon the pizzas were done, and only slightly burnt at the edges, "adds flavor," mickey reasoned. as if anything mickey actually put effort into cooking would be less than perfect.

ian sliced the warm pizzas as mickey grabbed a couple plates, pausing in his steps to not-so-subtly stare at his husband's biceps flex with the force of the pizza slicer.

they didn't even bother to put on a tv show in the background as they ate. mickey's phone was still playing some chill, lowkey romantic music, and they were just excited to dig in. at this point mickey was fucking starving. mickey quite literally moaned as he took his first bite. ian snapped his head to stare daggers at mickey, watching his throat intently.

"shiiiit. that good, huh?" ian murmured.

all mickey could manage to do was nod as he swallowed.

"might have to do this more often," ian suggested as he took a bite of his own slice. shit. this was good.

"good job growing this shit, man," mickey praised through a mouthful. he swallowed, then added on teasingly, but actually oh-so-serious, "might wanna try growing some mary jane next year if you keep it up with your green ass thumb."

"sure, mick." ian took a sip of his beer. ian would agree to anything mickey would ask of him right now, tipsy on both his beer and his fondness of his husband. as if he could read his mind, mickey reached his hand out to rest on ian's thigh, squeezing once before resting it there for the remainder of dinner.

they finished off the beers and pizzas in bliss, leaving the dishes near the sink to be tomorrow's problem. they didn't even make it out of the kitchen before ian started to tug on the hems of mickey's shirt.

[jasminesgardens]

Preparation

Set Up

Musical Episode Mechanics

Conclusions and Links

Heavily inspired by the Buffy the Vampire Slayer Musical Episode: Once More, With Feeling, I put together a Musical Episode for my own players that went down beautifully and here’s how you can too!

Preparation: 

1. Have your players (whether subtly asked or not, up to you) send you a playlist of songs that relate to their character, their relationships and scenarios they’ve been through in the past. Sort through these songs into “Main Plot” and “Scenarios That Could Happen”. 

Prompt Examples from my Musical Episode:

Main Plot: Prologue/Opening Narration, First Song (Morning Sequence), The Whole City is Singing, Figuring Out What is Happening, NPC Karaoke Songs, Player Karaoke Songs, A Call to BBEG, Battle Songs, Reveal of BBEG, Revealing Deepest Darkest Secret, Aftermath, End Credits and After Credits.

Scenarios That Could Happen: Dream Sequences (What Ifs, Foreshadowing or Nightmares), Reflection on their Pasts/Families/Homes, Attraction/First Kiss/Getting Together/Examining the Relationship/WooHoo Moments, How the Party is Seen, Arguments/Make Ups, Praying to their Gods, Positivity/Negativity, Stress/Learning to Relax, Fight Training, Opening Up/Confessing Feelings (Romantic, Friendly, Truthful), Cheering Up, Anger/Protests, Celebration/Drunken Songs, Death Saving Throws and Continuing the Fight.

The playlist is public so just search up DND: The Musical Episode by Princess Jasmine Flies Away.

2. Ask your players, if you haven’t already, for their deepest, darkest secret. The secret they would take to their grave. A secret about their lives or a fear they have could be the prompt. (This is what will be revealed later to the whole Party!)

As I was heavily inspired by the Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s Musical Episode, I used the episode to dive board my idea of what my “Main Plot” would be and explore the themes of secrets, speaking your truth and aftermaths. So even after my Musical Episode, my players and their characters were still thinking of what was revealed and what to do going forward with their relationships and themselves. That’s what will make your Musical Episode fun but also thought-provoking and memorable.

Examples from my Musical Episode:

“I’m going to die in six months.”

“I fear I’m on the path to becoming my step-father.”

“I fear my mission from my Goddess is to simply be the sidekick.”

Set Up:

1. Curse your Party. 

Example (taken from DNDSpeak and tweaked, warning a little gruesome): I sent my party on a mission to rid the City’s Sewers of the Oozes and Slimes that lived down there as the previous adventurers sent had not returned. While giving hint, and a child NPC who asked them to look, that recently a lot of pets had gone missing in the area around the Sewers. 

With every Ooze and Slime encounter, a voice would call out asking the adventurers to leave, getting more and more angry, desperate and threatening as they approached their hiding place. 

In this evil Bard’s hidden lair, they discovered the Bard had been stealing pets and using them to make into instruments. Not allowing the Party to leave, they fought and the Bard lost but just before he did, the Bard cursed my party. 

The players killed the Bard with fire so all the set up and hints in his lair burnt with him but if they hadn’t, they would have gotten hints of his worship to a certain demon and how he was planning to give his instruments as a gift to them.

I let my party spend the rest of the day doing whatever they liked and waited until the next day for the curse to take affect (which I recommend).

2. Setting Up Music

As I DM on Skype, I used JQBX for everyone to be able to hear the songs at the same time live but you might find other platforms or just be able to bluetooth to the speakers and use Spotify as you play in person (lucky sod).

Then completely shock your friends by awakening them to a performance. Start with a dream sequence or a morning montage or a title sequence! Have fun!

Musical Episode Mechanics:

1. When to Sing:

After the initial shock of the Opening of the Musical Episode, the party will believe the Musical Episode is a curse inflicted on just them (If you’re like me, it isn’t. It’s the whole city because that’s hilarious.) but unaware of when they will start to sing again.

I recommend it every time a party member gets emotional, reaches a perfect opportunity for a scenario song or simply plot development. These songs hint towards characters’ feelings for themselves, other characters, certain scenarios and maybe even their deepest, darkest secret so every time it happens, play the song that incredibly reads them to filth and ask them to roll a constitution saving roll, needing to beat 13. If they fail, write a tally mark for which player and wait for your finale to reveal what for.

I rewarded my players with 10XP each song as it gave them confidence to perform, improv and just get silly!

2. BBEG:

Through researching into what this curse could possibly be, introduce the demon Kacophony the Musical. They’re dramatic, crave entertainment and force people to sing for them with fiery magic, which can lead some of their victims to become Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru in Star Wars: A New Hope. The party will know Kacophony is responsible as you’ll sprinkle in the hints of burnt victims after each Musical Number, the same amount of bodies as the tally marks you’ve been collecting.

Now in my Musical Episode, I put Kacophony the Musical in the place they were cursed. My players went earlier than I would have liked so don’t be afraid to say “not the right time” for Act 3 and help them circle back to there later, after a full day of singing and dancing.

Example: I had a singing woman lead the party back to the Sewers ominously after quite a hearty song.

When discovered, Kacophony is waiting there with their goons for the “cast of today’s musical”, revealing that the person who cursed them gave a huge sacrifice to troll the city with this ridiculous curse, give Kacophony a few souls and to embarrass the party.

Example: My Evil Bard offered all his gruesome instruments and his own life to Kacophony. 

Kacophony the Musical will reveal two things.

First, what all the constitution saving rolls have been for. Every failure (a roll under 13) has led to someone’s end aka the burnt victims they have seen throughout the day. Tell your players how many people they have each ended with their rolls and if your party is as morally good as mine, you will have people ready to fight. If not, embarrassing them through song is enough for one.

Which brings me to the second reveal, Kacophony the Musical is a Musical Demon (obviously). Musicals reveal what characters are really thinking to their audience; their hopes, their dreams, their deepest, darkest secret. 

Have your party fight this demon only to be unable to not say their deepest, darkest secret to one another (it’s up to you if its based on roll or unescapable), causing a ton of big reveals, suspense and tension, which Kacophony can use as a getaway. 

It’s up to you if you want the party to defeat Kacophony the Musical. I didn’t as I preferred the idea of Kacophony being a showman who hides behind their spells and goons, reads the party to filth and then just leaves when it gets boring, leaving them on the mind of the party long afterwards but if you do want your party to defeat them, then make it so. 

Kacophony the Musical’s Character Sheet: Inspiration from Rahadin from Curse of Strahd and Cantus by u/Jacknerik

3. The Curse and Aftermath:

Finally, the curse lasts for 24 hours, so when your players awaken the next morning, the curse will be gone but no one will forget how yesterday changed their lives and how flipping awesome your session was. 

In the aftermath, my players had a lot of role-play heavy conversations which led them to build up their relationships and their own storylines and a city of people who either were trying to remember the awesome lyrics they sang yesterday or are now afraid of music (possible Footloose inspired sequel adventure).

Conclusion:

Either way it was a lot of fun and certainly went down as one of my best sessions as a DM.

Thank you so much for reading, my name is PrincessJasmineFliesAway on everything else and my credentials in DMing can be described as Wizarding World 2.0, Shifting into the Star Wars Sequels and Barbie Mermaida the Campaign. Goodbye.

[peachy-wolfhard]

Sharing a spotify with Ben hargreeves

Warnings: yall be on that cute shit

Note: i am very tired and have a massive headache also i refuse to believe bens dead so hes noot also all the playlists im talking ab r ones i have

*i think we're alone now starts playing*

You guys have a shit ton of playlists

Imagine any situation ever

Boom! You got a playlist

Only 3 of them actually are listened to tho

He adds the songs and you name them

Cue super long and super specific names

“y/n, why is this one called ‘running through a cemetery at 4 pm on a sunday afternoon to scare old people’”?

“It be like that sometimes”

Sharing earbuds when you guys listen to music in public

Buying a bluetooth speaker to put in the shower so you guys can vibe

Bluetooth record player <3

You both decided on light blue and light tan

Making a new playlist every time you guys start reading a new book

The longest living playlist is the “daddy issues but its 3 am in the walmart parking lot and the existential dread hits”

^^^ thats for when shit be rEAL sad

Klaus steals all your playlist ideas

Knock off daddy issues playlist doesn't hit the same

Klaus gives up on making his own playlists and just likes your guys

Crying to Ribs by Lorde with Ben is a hc in itself

^^^ Xanny by Billie Eilish too

He adds MARINA to every single playlist

He also adds My Chemical Romance to every playlist

((still mad theres been no mcr in tua >:( ))

Cuddling while listening to soft music

Taylor swift having her own playlist simply titled “taylor swift making me love her for 1 hour”

Ok google play watermelon sugar by harry styles

This is so long already so thats it

[moonstruckholland]

Sober (t.h)

Word count: 1,918

Warnings: drinking, fluff, tiny bits of angst

A/N: The second oneshot for Cosmic Souls! I really hope y'all like this 💕 let me know what you think if you do and if you want, you can find the first oneshot in my masterlist 🥰 also, as always, shout out to the amazing @fangirlwithasweettooth for reading this over

It was obvious by the way you were dressed you hadn't originally planned on having Tom over.

Usually, you didn't care much for getting dressed up when you hung out with Tom at your place, opting for a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. Not that he ever minded, he loved that you felt comfortable enough to be yourself around him.

Tonight though you had on a pretty floral dress that complimented your skin and more makeup than you usually cared to put on, pops of color and shimmer on your lids that added to the natural sparkle in your eyes.

Tom thought you looked beautiful.

Though, to be fair, there hadn't been a moment since he met you three years ago, in the music history class the both of you were forced to take, where he hadn't thought you looked absolutely stunning.

"So, what exactly happened tonight, love?" He looked up to where you were sitting next to him on the couch, hoping he didn't seem too eager to hear your answer, "You were pretty vague with the details over the phone."

"Fuck, Tommy, it was horrible," you took a sip of your cup, that was mostly filled with vodka, scrunching your nose as the liquid went down your throat, "I had a date tonight with that dude I was telling you about the other day, from my child and family development class."

Tom felt a pang in his chest as he remembered exactly who you were talking about, recalling how you fawned over him while the two of you were having lunch together, mentioning something about wanting to jump his bones.

He felt just as jealous then as he did now, wondering if you'd ever noticed the fact that he would literally do anything for you.

"Not only was he almost an hour late, didn't even bother to warn me, by the way," you rolled your eyes, bringing your cup to your lips again, "He wouldn't stop talking about his ex the whole time, but I'm getting ahead of myself, let me start from when he finally picked me up."

You continued on, taking large gulps of your drink as the details of the story got worse and worse.

Tom followed in your footsteps, drinking more from his cup than he had originally planned when you first handed it to him, each sip helping him refrain from blurting out what he actually wanted to say to you.

It was safe to say by the time you were done talking, the two of you were definitely tipsy.

It was safe to say by the time you were done talking, Tom was definitely buzzed. You on the other hand were on a completely different level, taking shots in between drinks, going harder than Tom had ever seen.

You had just finished your third cup, already working on your fourth one, while Tom had barely taken sips of his third one, figuring it'd be best if at least one of you slowed down.

"How do you manage to find the worst guys to go on dates with?"

You sighed, "I don't know, I just want one actually nice guy to want me, that's it."

'I want you,' is what Tom's thoughts were begging him to say. Instead he gave you a sympathetic smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "You'll have that some day, darling."

You leaned back on the couch, sadness overcoming your features, "I wish there were more guys like you, Tommy."

He barely had time to register your words, his head fuzzy from the alcohol, before you distracted him with an awkward cough, mumbling something about it being too warm.

"Maybe you should take that as a sign to take a break."

Just like that the sadness washed away, replaced with a wicked smile, "I don't know what you're talking about, I'm only getting started."

Tom rolled his eyes, getting up from the couch with a groan and walking over to the fridge to get a couple of water bottles and the bag of chips on the kitchen counter, knowing you'd have the worst hangover if he didn't get some food and something non-alcoholic in your system.

He brought them over to you, handing you the bottle and putting the chips on your lap, "Eat something please, darling."

"Don't wanna eat," you shook your head stubbornly, "I wanna dance."

Before Tom could protest, you downed the rest of your cup before jumping up and grabbing his hand, pulling him up with you. "C'mon, dance with me, Tommy, please."

"But there's no music."

Tom expected you to do the easy thing and connect your phone to your Bluetooth speakers and play one of the dozens of playlists you had on Spotify, instead you caught him off guard by belting out the lyrics to What Makes You Beautiful.

He couldn't help the laughter that bursted from him as you started swaying and twirling while you sang.

It was totally ridiculous, but Tom found himself singing along with you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close so you could sway together.

After a while you stopped singing and put your head on his chest, making his heart hurt. He wished this was more than what it was, more than him comforting you after a bad date.

Tom tried not to dwell on his negative thoughts, deciding to just close his eyes, lay his head on top of yours, and enjoy having you close to him like this.

He got lost in you, the feeling of your hands in his and the way your body was pressed against him, so close he could smell the scent of your favorite perfume.

He'd been close to you so many times over the years, but something about this was inherently different, more intimate than you'd ever been before.

There was nothing he wanted more than to stay in this moment, in your embrace, for the rest of the night and honestly he would've if you hadn't somehow tripped over his feet, resulting in the two of you falling back onto the couch.

You landed on top of Tom, drunken giggles escaping your lips, "Are you okay?"

"I'm cutting you off for the night," he huffed, making you laugh even more as you attempted to apologize.

You rolled off of him after a moment, your chest rising rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. It took everything in him not to pull you back, his body aching for your warmth as soon as it was gone

"I think...it's time for bed."

"Good idea," Tom stood up, holding out his hand to help you do the same.

"Will you pretty please carry me? I have jelly legs."

Tom couldn't help rolling his eyes at you, "Jelly legs from what? You're the one that fell on me."

"Please?" You pouted, "Because you love me?"

'I really do.'

If he had wanted to, he would've put up a fight, but deep down he knew he would do anything you asked of him. You had him completely wrapped around your finger.

"Fine," he said, pretending to be annoyed, as if he hadn't already decided he would carry you the second you asked him to.

He hooked one arm underneath your legs, the other under your back, holding you close to his chest as he carried you to your bedroom.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Tommy," you said softly as he laid you down, pulling your blanket over you and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I'll always be here to take care of you."

'I'd do anything for you.'

He was about to leave your room and pass out on the couch, when you grabbed his arm, "Stay with me? Please?"

He nodded, wordlessly crawling under the covers beside you.

You turned over so you were facing him, your hands in between you, just barely touching Tom's, an unreadable expression on your features.

"What are you thinking about?"

You shook your head, "It's so dumb."

He gently nudged your leg with his, "Tell me, darling."

"I-fuck, okay," you looked down, suddenly very interested in the pattern on your blanket. "I swear there wasn't a moment tonight where I hadn't wished I was with you."

"After what you told me, I wish I was there too."

"No, Tommy, you don't get it," you chewed your lip nervously, looking everywhere but at him, "I don't just feel this way about this date, it's every date."

Your words weren't really clicking in Tom's head and he was starting to think the alcohol was having more of an effect on him than he originally thought.

"I want you to be the one to pick me up and take me to dinner. I want to hold your hand when we go to the movies," you voice got lower the more you talked and you shyly peeked up through your lashes to gauge Tom's reaction, "I want to kiss you and murmur how much I love you against your lips."

Tom's heart was beating hard against his chest, the sound so loud in his ears he could barely hear you.

He couldn't believe it. Were you really saying the words he's been wanting to hear since the day he met you?

If his head wasn't buzzing with a million different thoughts, he probably would've kissed you or at least said a few coherent sentences but all he could manage to blurt out was, "You love me?"

Something in you seemed to switch, your words stuttering and your eyes widening with shock as you realized exactly what you just said to Tom.

"Shit. I-I'm so drunk," you turned over, your back now facing him, "I, um, I'm tired. I need to go to sleep."

"Y/n-"

"No, Tom, it's okay. Please just Forget I said anything."

He laid there in complete silence, his eyes glued to your back as he contemplated what he should do, if he should say anything or do as you said and put tonight behind him.

'Don't be an idiot, tell her.'

"Y/n?"

You didn't say anything for a moment too long, making Tom's stomach clench. What if you were asleep and he missed his chance completely?

"Yeah, Tommy?" You said so quietly Tom could barely hear you.

"I love you too."

He felt like he was going to be sick as he waited for you to say something or just do anything to let him know you hadn't suddenly changed your mind.

Tom was starting to wonder if you heard him or maybe you just didn't care when you reached behind your back and grabbed his arm, pulling it towards you. You laced your fingers through his as you brought his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

He let out a breath of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding before hesitantly scooting closer to you, closing up the little space between you.

Once again Tom found himself in a position he'd been a million times, wrapped up in you, but the air had changed and it was almost like it was the first time.

In the back of his mind he knew there was a chance you were only saying this because of the alcohol in your system, but he pushed the thought away, and nuzzled his face into your hair before closing his eyes, hoping you'd still mean what you said when the sun came up.

Tagging: @fangirlwithasweettooth @bravest-at-heart @hollandsamor @constellatinq @aidiastyles @ravenclawmarvel @cosmicholland @sleepyhollands @devildisguiseasangel @fairytaleparker @hollandsosterfield @now-imagine @officiallyunofficialperson @stealth-spiderr @xxxxdelenaxxxx @its-the-aerieljeane @petersstarcadet @babebenhardy @antoouu @lovinnholland @kxrtwxgner @sleepybesson @awkwardfangirl2014 @brookeelee98 @nedthegay @petersmparker @parkeroffline @snjms02 @the-queen-procrastinator @tomhollandsumbrella @spideyosterfield @thollandx @styles-balor4eva @80sthottie @marvelobsessedteenager @marshyrebelcloud @sixwyrxstuff @itscaminow @tomshufflepuff @jillanaholland @howdyherron @undiadeestos @quaksonhehe @theslytherinwarrior @itstaskeen

[suckmysupernatural]

Weighted Blanket

Word Count: ~1900, Oneshot

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Panic attack, anxiety, medication, language, glass

Summary: Reader has anxiety and panic attacks, today is an off day and Dean helps the reader. Slight fluff

Author’s Note: Hi! I’m Sarah and this is my first fic! Let me know what you think of the fic, what I can improve upon, etc. Also feel free to give some fic ideas :) Thanks for reading my loves. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When I woke up, I knew that today was going to be another one of my bad days. There was nothing wrong or tangible that I could place the blame on. It had been a while since I had a bad day. At least I wasn’t waking up in some shitty hotel room or with a hunt planned for the day. Today I got to wake up in the bunker, in the bed that Dean and I shared. Rolling over, I saw that Dean wasn’t laying next to me like I had hoped. Sitting up my heart began to pound. Where is he? Is Dean okay? Where is he? My questions were answered quickly, with my phone buzzing on the nightstand. It was Dean.

Hey sweetheart. Sammy and I went out to town on a supply run, need anything?

Breathing a sigh of relief, I opened my bedside drawer. Grabbing my medication, I didn’t hear the familiar rattle of pills. Crap. During my last panic attack I had taken my last pill. I didn’t make a note on my phone or tell Dean and my mind would always get so foggy during and after a panic attack. It’s a good thing that Dean is already in town. Grabbing my phone, I type up a quick reply to his earlier question. 

 Yes, can you pick up my meds from the pharmacy? I’m all out. 

Putting my phone down to wait for a response, I climbed out of bed and stretched the overnight stiffness out of my muscles. About to head to the bathroom, I was interrupted by a familiar sound. “Faithfully” by Journey, my ringtone for Dean, started playing. Picking up the phone, I pressed the green button to answer the call.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to come home?” Dean blurted out as soon as I put the phone to my ear. The corners of my lips turned up in a smile. I was so lucky to have someone who cared so much about me. 

“Yes, I am okay. I just woke up feeling… off. I’m fine though. I just remembered that my medication ran out from last time, I need a refill just in case. But don’t worry. I’m going to take a shower and then make some breakfast. It’ll be done by the time you guys get back so don’t eat anything while you are out.” 

“Okay… Well if you need me to come home at any point just text. We don’t have many errands to run so it shouldn’t take long,” Dean said, trying to cover up the worry in his voice.

“Thank you. I love you, see you soon,” I responded. 

“Love you too, sweetheart.” Dean replied and then hung up the phone. I was still feeling uneasy but I’m not surprised. My anxiety didn’t simply go away when it should. There were things I could do to help, though. I grabbed my phone and made my way into the bathroom. Scrolling through Spotify, I clicked on the playlist that I had made for days like this. It was a compilation of gentle acoustic covers of classic rock songs. Listening to the originals made my heart rate go even higher, so I stuck to the more relaxing versions. I connected my phone to the waterproof bluetooth speaker I had put in the shower, letting the music fill the room. I turned on the shower and slipped off the T-shirt and cotton shorts that I had slept in. Hopping into the shower, I let the warm water cascade down your shoulders and back, releasing the tension. I lathered my hair with my favorite shampoo, inhaling the apple scent that I loved. “Dust in the Wind” by Kansas flowed through the speakers and I sang along while washing the suds out of my hair. Putting my conditioner in, I could still feel that my heart was beating faster than it normally did, but I accepted it and continued my shower routine. Once I finished rinsing out my hair, washing my body, and shaving my legs I turned off the shower as the water was slowly turning cold. I wrapped myself in the fuzzy white towel that hung on a hook next to the shower. I had stolen it on a hunt a few months back. A ghost was haunting a fancy hotel, which had been a nice change of pace from the usual dumps I stayed in. 

With one hand holding the towel up and the other holding my phone, I walked the short way back to the bedroom. I opened my closet, already knowing what I was going to wear. I grabbed the clothes that I always wore on bad days, it was the comfiest outfit I owned. The first item was an oversize, lightweight blue T-shirt. The material was extra soft and thin. I also had a pair of Dean’s sweatpants. They had become mine after I had stolen them once and realized how comfortable they were. They were old and grey, some might call them ratty. I slipped on the shirt and pulled on the sweats, rolling the waist of them so that I didn’t trip on them when I went to walk. Along with the clothes, I pulled out my teddy bear slippers. They were a gag gift from my sister a few Christmases back, but they were so soft and warm that I had to keep them. 

Feeling cozy and warm, I made my way into the kitchen. Reaching the threshold I stopped and closed my eyes. I could feel myself shaking, feeling antsy and unsettled. Not wanting to keep still, I made my way to the pantry and pulled out what I needed to make pancakes. I mixed up the ingredients and turned on the stove.

Flipping the last pancake, I heard the front door of the bunker open and close. Perfect timing, I thought smiling. The brothers’ voices grew louder as they got closer to the kitchen. 

“Hey boys! Just finished up. Make sure to put the fridge and freezer food in now. Then sit, you can unpack the rest after breakfast.” I said proudly. I was happy to provide for Same and Dean, whether it be breakfast or a hug when they needed it. They were always taking care of me and it was nice to return the favor every now and then. 

“How’re you feeling?” Dean said, snaking an arm around my waist and placing a kiss onto my temple. I inhaled his musky scent and sighed, leaning my head onto his chest.

“Not my best, not my worst,” I responded, pulling out three plates and piling pancakes on each.

“Need your medication? I got it,” Dean started to rummage through the bags that he and Sam had brought in. I placed my hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“No no, I’m okay for now. Sit down, time to eat,” I said. Dean listened to my request, moving to sit across from Sam. I walked over and put a plate in front of each man. Grabbing the maple syrup, forks, and my own plate, I sat down next to Dean. Handing each brother a fork, I sighed. I loved moments like these, in the bunker, where the three of us felt like a normal family. I didn’t have to worry about an apocalypse or stitching up one, or both, of the boys after a hunt. I could just sit here with my two favorite people and enjoy our time together. We ate breakfast and chatted until the pancakes were settled into our stomachs. 

Sam got up and announced that he was going to look for cases and read up on some lore. Dean and I stayed at the table with my head leaning on his shoulder. Dean’s face turned into my hair, kissing the top of my head. 

“Thanks for breakfast, it was tasty,” Dean said, rubbing his stomach and then standing up, stretching slightly, “I’m gonna take a shower, you going to be okay”

“Yeah, go for it. Be warned, there might not be that much hot water,” I smirked, hoping that the shower wouldn’t be freezing for Dean. I grabbed the plates and brought them over to the sink. I didn’t mind doing the dishes, actually finding them quite calming most of the time. First, I scrubbed the bowl and frying pan I had used to make breakfast. I picked up one of the plates when I felt the lump form in my throat. No, no, no I thought, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I knew that my anxiety was starting to bubble to the surface but tried to push through it. As I started to clean off the plate in my hand my head started to feel fuzzy. My breathing started to quicken to match my increasing heart rate. I took a step back as my vision started to blur from the lack of oxygen. Before I knew it the plate had slipped from my hands, crashing and shattering on the ground. I didn’t even hear the glass break because my ears were ringing. I was sinking into a panic attack. It was somehow overwhelming and numbing at the same time. It felt like the world around me ceased to exist, trapping me in my overactive mind.

Dean came running into the kitchen with his gun drawn and hair still damp from the shower. Seeing that it was only me, he put his gun down on the kitchen table. He approached slowly, trying not to startle me into stepping on the broken glass that surrounded my feet. My hands were still in front of me as if the plate was still safely in my grasp. Dean saw that my whole body was shaking and my breaths were short and rapid. 

“Sweetheart. I am going to pick you up, okay? There is glass all around your feet and I don’t want you stepping on it,” Dean said in a low voice, calm and collected. He knew that I currently didn’t have the ability to step over the glass. Seeing me nod slightly at his words, he moved closer. Dean placed one hand on my back and the other behind my knees, sweeping me up in one fluid motion. He could feel my body twitching against his as I relaxed my full body into him. He started to make his way to our bedroom, slowly in an attempt to help calm me. I opened my mouth, wanting to thank him. 

“Um… I… uh….” I stutter out, trying to fight the brain fog. 

“Shh sweetheart. It’s okay, I got you.” Dean whispered, laying me down onto the bed. He walked over to the closet, pulling out a weighted blanket and pulling it onto me. Opening the nightstand drawer, he pulled out the new bottle of medication, shaking a single pill into this palm. “Open up,” he said, knowing that my hands were too shaky to hold the pill myself. He placed it on my tongue before bringing a glass of water to my lips, tipping it slowly. Once I had swallowed the pill, Dean took off his shoes and slid into the bed. Wrapping his arm around me, he let me burrow myself into his chest as I attempted to match his slow breathing. Slowly, the pill started to kick in, my body starting to still. Dean softly caressed my hair with one hand, the other drawing small circles on my arm. 

“Thank you,” I whisper, my eyes starting to droop.

“I’ll always take care of you,” Dean whispered back. You gave him a soft smile before falling asleep, safe in his arms. 

[dinosaurtsukki]

TWICE fan!Atsumu

dino back at it again with hc’s that no one asked for <3 

something about him just screams twice fan for me (its probs the hair and overall attitude)

he was probably one of those guys who didn't get the appeal behind kpop groups and probably made fun of some girls for liking boy bands

"Ya can't even tell 'em apart except for their hair color!"

and then he was lowkey all 👀👀 when some of his guy friends started watching kpop girl group videos

atsumu probably snuck a glance at his friends' phones while they were huddled around watching 'Cheer Up'

and he kept thinking about it all day until he got home and was scrolling through his phone

'i mean its just some cute girls dancing and singing a lot of guys are into that'

literally just looks up 'kpop girls dancing' on youtube before he finally watches a Twice mv

and boy is he HOOKED

has the members names and faces memorized after a single night (atsumu ur in DEEP), ended up watching What Is Love five times in a row

our boy is officially a Once but he's too shy to admit it especially since his twin and his friends are gonna tease him about it

he always keeps his listening sessions on Spotify private and catches himself before humming a song out loud

his first comeback was probably FANCY and poor atsumu had to order his album and have it delivered to a fellow Once's house so that Osamu wouldn't see

BUT osamu's twin senses had been tingling lately and he knows a closeted kpop fan when he sees one (he likes Red Velvet)

so he devises a plan: invite atsumu out for drinks with their friends (probs the inarizaki team and some of the msby members) and get him drunk enough to dance when osamu asks the DJ to play a Twice song

aND IT WORKS

FANCY starts playing and this lightweight boy just starts dancing the choreo (which he memorizes by heart) along with some other Twice fans in the club 

bokuto dances with him but he doesn’t know the choreo he just thinks its cool. sakusa and hinata’s mouths are hanging open. osamu is catching it all on tape

if you look closely you can see suna in the background tapping his feet and mouthing the words but u didn’t hear that from me

the next day it’s all up on social media and atsumu has been exPOSED

surprisingly the only one who teased him a bit was bokuto but bokuto was just being himself 

“ATSUMU I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE INTO THAT??”

osamu’s just like ‘you couldn’t have stanned Red Velvet or something?’

and kita is very proud of him being open about the things he love even though atsumu was technically drunk

but now atsumu doesn’t need to hide anymore!!

which means he just goes full on ONCE

you’ll know there’s a Twice comeback when atsumu has his phone and ~~lightstick~~ out in the locker room and chanting

“IM NAYEON, YOON JEONGYEON, MOMO JJANG--”

sakusa: THEY CAN’T HEAR YOU FROM HERE !!

omg it must look so adorable though i love atsumu <3

he and osamu get into petty fights about whether Twice or Red Velvet is better 

atsumu: MORE PERFORMANCES EQUALS BETTER

osamu: ONLY IF THEY CAN HARMONIZE

atsumu: THEY DO HARMONIZE 

osamu: *plays Psycho to prove a point* 

they always make bets over who’ll win SOTY

atsumu also loves watching those ‘twice funny moments’ compilations and he’ll watch all these funny moments if he has to

atsumu: *watching a 15 min loop of dahyun yelling ‘BIBIMBAP’*

osamu: *bursting into his room* you’re connected to the fucking BLUETOOTH SPEAKER

but who are atsumu’s biases though??

my personal guess is tzuyu because he’s been in love with her since he saw that angel costume in ‘What Is Love?’

his bias wrecker is probably momo though because he loves a girl that can dANCE

he will also beat up anyone who hates a particular member or only likes a particular member in Twice

atsumu: TWICE !! HAS !! NINE !! MEMBERS !! SO !! YA !! SUPPORT !! ALL !! OF !! THEM !!

omgg if you date this boy and you’re ready to take it to the next level with him you better invite him to your place, be prepared to top, or just pay no mind to nine korean girls staring at you while you guys make-out

also when you guys are videocalling and he starts tearing up just a little bit, no it’s not because he misses you so much he’s just watching a video of jeongyeon putting other members before herself

when he’s being interviewed about his powerful serves in his games atsumu’s just like ‘i dedicate each of my serves to the very special people who are close to my heart’

bokuto and hinata are like awwwww because he thinks he means his teammates

his fans are like awwwww because they think he means them

but his closest friends all know that those very special people are everyone in Twice

it’s also bokuto who ends up spilling the beans about atsumu being a Once but atsumu is fucking proud of it

ngl one of his goals when it comes to becoming a pro volleyball player is so that he would be noticed by Twice

the first time he goes to a concert though is SUCH a huge deal for him, he’s so excited after buying his ticket

like, atsumu doesn’t care if he has a match the next morning he’s watching his girls perform

this boy has a front row ticket, probably a million more lightsticks, a humongous poster that he made himself, and his lungs ready to scream

he has to save up and wait a few more years to actually attend a fanmeet in Korea though but atsumu is DEDICATED

he even tried to learn a bit of korean and wrote and memorized an entire script for him to say when he finally meets the girls of his dreams

atsumu’s so nervous though like this is such a life-changing moment for him

and then finally he walks up to Momo first who’s seated at the edge of the table

atsumu: hi, i’m a fan--

momo: wait, you’re that Japanese volleyball player right?

atsumu: is deceased.

taglist (open to anyone who wants in):  @montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart@akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan@therainroguefanfiction@atetiffdoesart@stephdaninja@oikaw-ugh @charliefredb @dramaqueenweeb1469@tremblinghearts @applepienation​